Being Cut Some Slack

Every now and then, you get thrown,
End-over-end, through the air, by a
Dried, disinterested hand, a bone...
Something to chew on while you
Contemplate, those options known
To be viable, the future draft picks,
Who, would reap what you have sown,
All of it, hesitant and provisional,
Pending proof of what you really own...

Seen, Several Times, At The Mall

She chose to wear spandex
Obviously not thinking
It would accent her parts
Too fatty, or sinking...

Obesity + tights does
Not equal cool,
Casual provides no cover,
There ought to be a rule...

Naval War College

Fading warriors, gathered in a bone yard
Of a place, distant from national tensions,
Writing essays no one reads, they publish and
Pontificate to supplement their pensions,
Navigating academic battle space, they never
Really prevail, despite their best intentions.

Survivor

The purple weed soaks up
Winter sun, spreading, pliantly,
On the cold brown ground, growing
By exception, almost defiantly.

It All Adds Up

Random acts of kindness,
No matter how small,
Add up into a happiness,
Sometimes shared by all...

Nexus

I feel the center of my being is my
Stomach, not my brain or heart,
Thoughts often less satisfying,
Frankly, than a good belch or fart.

Birth Of Haiku

He kneels on the tatami mat,
Preparing his ink, and brush,
Remembering, listening, then,
Poem words written in a rush...

演歌

I had to go catch the big fish,
Leaving my woman, and my
Luck, behind, I'm left to wish,
Out here off of wintry Cape
Matsumae, for a safe return
To her waiting arms, I keep
The lethal winds astern,
Chasing the black tuna and
All the treasure it will earn,
To survive, doing the best I can,
Out on the frigid Sea of Japan...

ポーク ジョイ

The ship worker contemplates
The origin of the pliant skin,
Of the pig, which made the
Gloves his hands are in...

Bride Of War

Fifteen years old, and full of the
Brave ideas assumed to be true,
As preached by an angry prophet,
She decides she must go through
It all, to Syria, and become a bride
To some random holy man, who,
Doesn't even know she will arrive,
Her virgin trajectory into chaos,
From which she might emerge alive...

Armageddon, As It Unfolded

The end of the world, as viewed
When it happened, from parking lot
Near the McDonald's on 40th Street,
Big Macs and fries, all for naught...

(Photograph by Geoffrey M. Hamilton, 1955-2011)

漁業

The fisherman sprinkles salt
On the stern of the ship,
For luck against the assault
Of the blue-green waves,
Pours rice wine on the
Capstan, hoping it saves
His crew from the sea,
Which will reward them,
Or kill, as the winds decree...

Her Love Radar

Like an owl's ears, one above the other
Below its eyes, enabling the wise one
To triangulate, target, using sound,
Her heart is specially wired and run
With off-set sensors parsing the volley
Of come-ons, promises, attractions,
To find happiness, vice melancholy.

Silver Days' Rhythm

The old woman, bent, cane-in-hand,
With the soft short steps arthritis allows,
Goes out slowly into the no-mans-land
Of her neighborhood, her small adventure
To get to the butcher and vegetable stand,
And then make it back to the empty nest,
And another day of remembering, and rest...

Young Mercenary

Following an inability
To settle down, due to
Turbulence within,
I quietly bid adieu
To suburbia, traveled
All the hard way back,
To what would never
Let me go, in bloody Iraq.

A Shepherd's Power

The knife the terrorist holds in his hand,
As he looms over the doomed hostage,
Seems too short, and I can't understand
How it would be used, except that the
Terrorist, once, in a different land
And time, herded the sheik's goats,
Then when tribal feasts or sacrifices
Required it, would slit their throats...

Golden Gai 新宿ゴールデン街

The tiny bar, off the narrow alley,
Only seats six, or maybe eight,
Presided over by Mama-san and
Bottles of sake, lined-up straight,
Next to an eight-track tape
Karaoke box, which I activate
With one hundred yen coins,
And start singing all the great
Oldies, songs so distant from
Tokyo and its metabolic rate,
Yet, here, in this Golden Gai
Corner, good times reverberate...

Cat-Sitting

The kitchen door, closed last night,
To keep the curious cat contained,
Now has been opened, and the cat's
Location must be ascertained,
Quickly, before it springs out in
Furry ambush, claws unrestrained...

Lost Opportunity

Too often, unaware of
The chances we lose,
Through the promises
And handshakes we refuse,
We settle, for what smaller
Happiness may infuse...

Existence

What am I, but a bundle
Of worries and fear,
Yet, somehow
I persevere,

Day after day,
Year after year...

Black Ships Starbucks

Ancient culture of tea
Now percolating into
The flavor of coffee

What You Know When You Are Old

See how things repeat,
Recognize the patterns
Which mix and meet
Over and over again,
Sense it's all recycled
Anyway, now and then.

Out Of The Cage

Powerful, like a gorilla,
A metric word-flow,
Beefy, hairy, steaming,
The best words I know,
Fly, like bullets, into
Colors dreams bestow,
In thousands of ways...
Healing the cold curse
Of burdened banal days,
My gorilla-power verse...

(Thanks to Bobbo and InfoE for the inspiration)

Home Work

At my desk, Teleworking,
Trying hard to show,
I can write clear syntax,
Despite the Merlot...

= = = = = = = = = =

"Teleworking": /ˈtɛlɪˌwɜːkɪŋ/

noun

1. the use of home computers, telephones, etc, to enable a person to work from home while maintaining contact with colleagues, customers, or a central office.

= = = = = = = = = =

TGIF

Friday afternoon, headed home,
Leaving the workplace behind,
Intent on drinking Guinness,
Till I go out of my mind,
Obliterate, and cast it far
Away, for a Monday to find...