How to Become Popular & Rich
Jeff,, 97 pounds of bone.
A high school sophomore,
A little guy with few friends.
Was there a cure?
3 players 6 hit,
That was the answer!
No, it did not change his weight,
But changed his status.
The piece of history,
Or love of the game,
That drove him to a most excellent idea
Is lost in time.
Monday morning home room,
Once quiet, especially at his desk,
Changed its polarity and popularity.
10 guys crowded his space.
“Betcha”, 3rd behind “fuck” & “shit”
As a high school pronouncement,
Particularly in matters of disagreement,
Resolved most issues.
Perhaps it was the word,
Or whimsically checking the odds,
Our hero took a few friendly bets.
3 players, 6 hits.
At 9 to 1 it looked pretty good to the bettors,
(8 to1 if the batters were on the same team)
Odds on winning? 20 to 1,
Four more guys wanted to play.
“The hulk” the nickname given our 97 pounder,
Got a slip of paper & the money.
You bet today, you win or lose today.
All losers day one.
At weeks end 12 bettors,
A week later 20 regulars.
Hiding the slips from Mom was getting tricky .
“Jeff, where did you get all that change”?
Betting was very cool,
25 cents, a buck, nothing big.
“Nobody gets hurt”
“Betcha” was in vogue.
Too many would be bettors,
Crowded Jeff’s, desk every morning.
Time to expand.
Jeff put other feet on the floor.
Hiring runners, 10% of the bet,
Spread the joy to happy suckers all over the school.
At 100 betters a day and growing,
He reached out for insurance.
How could he handle days
When the majors went nuts,
20-25 guys with two hits or more?
He didn’t have the loot to cover.
Jeff, now with 6 runners and
Two rich kids providing insurance,
For a small cut,
Had a thriving business
Month three started great.
Got a 4 eye to keep the books
Business up 80%, all bases covered.
Well. almost all.
One of his runners was caught
And suspended for a week.
Jeff’s fate would be a one week hanging,
Followed by an audit. Closing time.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Colors
A straight grey man,
He believes in discipline.
Before the accident he was measured,
Now he is firm.
Not as self controlled,
Recovering from a buried husband
She entered with children and issues,
Eyes that easily, often, turned red.
He seemed frustrated.
No joy from stepsons,
No all American family here.
Could I be wrong,
And this is that red, white, and blue family?
He had lived through a spinal injury
That robbed him of diving and running.
Each day planned around his wheelchair,
A black and white, binary, existence.
He’d accepted wife and her children,
Assumed straight talk, without imposing his
Gold bars, to convey his rank and power
Would yield a harvest of family.
For her part this different man,
Needing care and understanding
Not a white grey mist of confusion.
This was not her dream or savior.
Both struggle with depression,
A black presence, makes its home
In the cracks, presses to drive deeper.
A quintessential American story.
He believes in discipline.
Before the accident he was measured,
Now he is firm.
Not as self controlled,
Recovering from a buried husband
She entered with children and issues,
Eyes that easily, often, turned red.
He seemed frustrated.
No joy from stepsons,
No all American family here.
Could I be wrong,
And this is that red, white, and blue family?
He had lived through a spinal injury
That robbed him of diving and running.
Each day planned around his wheelchair,
A black and white, binary, existence.
He’d accepted wife and her children,
Assumed straight talk, without imposing his
Gold bars, to convey his rank and power
Would yield a harvest of family.
For her part this different man,
Needing care and understanding
Not a white grey mist of confusion.
This was not her dream or savior.
Both struggle with depression,
A black presence, makes its home
In the cracks, presses to drive deeper.
A quintessential American story.
The Rise & Fall of Tina
She lagged well behind,
Disassociating, I think,
From the old tutor
Who mentored her each Tuesday.
He was uncomfortable with the separation.
Often she walked a pace off his lead.
Today the spread was much greater,
Tiny was fading
Entering the small room, they often used,
He cleared the desk, of bric-a-brac,
Moved the two folding chairs into place
Turned on the portable, floor heater.
Seven year old Tina, with quiet reluctance,
Seated herself opposite him.
The old man sensed something, caution?
Looking at Tiny he felt his stomach sink.
It had taken only 4 weeks
For this failed 2nd grader,
Unable to add 2 digit numbers,
To multiply 9 by 7.
He wondered at the change,
But had no idea of the cause.
Certainly, he had not seen such a leap
In10 years of mentoring.
Not given to ethereal interventions,
He knew his efforts, on her behalf
Were perhaps helpful,
Yet, did not explain the metamorphosis.
For 2 weeks after the math display,
That had catapulted her, to star status
Tiny wanted nothing more than to solve arithmetic problems.
He had witnessed an epiphany.
The old tutor was elated.
When had he seen such an awakening?
Never!
He did not believe in miracles.
Could such a possibility be spread?
Could others achieve this transformation?
Ill equipped, by books or experience,
He prepared to enter the world of the perplexed.
He’d done no research prior to today’s session.
There were questions he would ask,
But she was particularly withdrawn this morning,
Something was not right.
Tina was not interested in reading or spelling,
So he turned to math, again she shook her head.
Persuading her to try,
He began with 9 times 2.
She began counting on her fingers.
He was watching his world implode.
A god he rejected was laughing.
Barely containing his shock,
Trying to appear sympathetic,
Dumfounded by the change
He recalled others’ failed epiphanies.
Gone, all gone.
In Tina’s seat sat a sadly familiar child,
The one he’d helped years before,
Or was it just weeks.
Disassociating, I think,
From the old tutor
Who mentored her each Tuesday.
He was uncomfortable with the separation.
Often she walked a pace off his lead.
Today the spread was much greater,
Tiny was fading
Entering the small room, they often used,
He cleared the desk, of bric-a-brac,
Moved the two folding chairs into place
Turned on the portable, floor heater.
Seven year old Tina, with quiet reluctance,
Seated herself opposite him.
The old man sensed something, caution?
Looking at Tiny he felt his stomach sink.
It had taken only 4 weeks
For this failed 2nd grader,
Unable to add 2 digit numbers,
To multiply 9 by 7.
He wondered at the change,
But had no idea of the cause.
Certainly, he had not seen such a leap
In10 years of mentoring.
Not given to ethereal interventions,
He knew his efforts, on her behalf
Were perhaps helpful,
Yet, did not explain the metamorphosis.
For 2 weeks after the math display,
That had catapulted her, to star status
Tiny wanted nothing more than to solve arithmetic problems.
He had witnessed an epiphany.
The old tutor was elated.
When had he seen such an awakening?
Never!
He did not believe in miracles.
Could such a possibility be spread?
Could others achieve this transformation?
Ill equipped, by books or experience,
He prepared to enter the world of the perplexed.
He’d done no research prior to today’s session.
There were questions he would ask,
But she was particularly withdrawn this morning,
Something was not right.
Tina was not interested in reading or spelling,
So he turned to math, again she shook her head.
Persuading her to try,
He began with 9 times 2.
She began counting on her fingers.
He was watching his world implode.
A god he rejected was laughing.
Barely containing his shock,
Trying to appear sympathetic,
Dumfounded by the change
He recalled others’ failed epiphanies.
Gone, all gone.
In Tina’s seat sat a sadly familiar child,
The one he’d helped years before,
Or was it just weeks.
Jake
“Oh shit! Here comes that son of bitch” Jake thought.
“Yeah, I aint pitched perfect,
Don’t mean I gotta be pulled.
Christ, its only the 3rd inning.
“This guy gotta be the worst manager, ever.
Sure, they got a coupla cheap hits,
Yeah, I walked a few guys,
I know, I know, the homers hurt.
“Dimwit is asking for the ball,
Screw him
So we're down 7 zip,
Not my fault our guys aint hitten.
I’ll just take a short walk around
My 5 buddies standen here.
Stop asking for the ball will ya
I’m just getting started, for Chrissakes.
“No I’m not given up the ball
Till I finish this inning.
Will ya stop followen me?
I get the next 3 yokels, I give you the ball.
“Ya think I don’t know I’m leaven the show?
Bozo, you walk faster, I walk faster.
At least the crowd aint booin no more-
There fuckin laughin, hysterical
“You crazy or somethin?
Got my buddies hoisten me off.
I’m up against it, the traitors
I’ll sue your asses, you wait, put me down”.
“Yeah, I aint pitched perfect,
Don’t mean I gotta be pulled.
Christ, its only the 3rd inning.
“This guy gotta be the worst manager, ever.
Sure, they got a coupla cheap hits,
Yeah, I walked a few guys,
I know, I know, the homers hurt.
“Dimwit is asking for the ball,
Screw him
So we're down 7 zip,
Not my fault our guys aint hitten.
I’ll just take a short walk around
My 5 buddies standen here.
Stop asking for the ball will ya
I’m just getting started, for Chrissakes.
“No I’m not given up the ball
Till I finish this inning.
Will ya stop followen me?
I get the next 3 yokels, I give you the ball.
“Ya think I don’t know I’m leaven the show?
Bozo, you walk faster, I walk faster.
At least the crowd aint booin no more-
There fuckin laughin, hysterical
“You crazy or somethin?
Got my buddies hoisten me off.
I’m up against it, the traitors
I’ll sue your asses, you wait, put me down”.
Ed
We are 2 days short of departure.
Ray & I will travel north,
Checking out the Golan.
Tuesday Ed heads home
Ed is my favorite milkman,
(Granted, not a very competitive position).
This volunteer gig has not met his expectations.
I’m not sure what he imagined.
A decisive man,
At an additional cost of $400.
He will leave today,
Rather than wait 2 days.
Leaving at 8 PM for an 11 O’clock flight,
Returning at midnight.
His flight had left 12 hours earlier,
Smiling sheepishly, accepting his error graciously.
We had met years earlier,
Sharing a love of tennis.
What I most like about Ed
Is his refusal to embrace bad news.
He is a unique person,
Bringing an ebullience
I’d never experienced,
And a belief that things will be great, or at least better.
Neither his demanding work,
Nor life’s share of woes
Had dulled the brilliance of his smile.
Ed is truly glad to meet you.
There is no hesitation in his handshake,
You have to prove your unworthiness.
I saw him awaiting word on a serious surgery,
We hadn’t been in touch for years.
He was genuinely delighted to see me.
Ray & I will travel north,
Checking out the Golan.
Tuesday Ed heads home
Ed is my favorite milkman,
(Granted, not a very competitive position).
This volunteer gig has not met his expectations.
I’m not sure what he imagined.
A decisive man,
At an additional cost of $400.
He will leave today,
Rather than wait 2 days.
Leaving at 8 PM for an 11 O’clock flight,
Returning at midnight.
His flight had left 12 hours earlier,
Smiling sheepishly, accepting his error graciously.
We had met years earlier,
Sharing a love of tennis.
What I most like about Ed
Is his refusal to embrace bad news.
He is a unique person,
Bringing an ebullience
I’d never experienced,
And a belief that things will be great, or at least better.
Neither his demanding work,
Nor life’s share of woes
Had dulled the brilliance of his smile.
Ed is truly glad to meet you.
There is no hesitation in his handshake,
You have to prove your unworthiness.
I saw him awaiting word on a serious surgery,
We hadn’t been in touch for years.
He was genuinely delighted to see me.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Keeping Ahead
Keeping Ahead
Merging traffic, long lines.
No one coming on the right.
No insidious soul looking to sneak past,
I am on “alert”.
Wait! here comes a villain,
Speeding down the shoulder,
Looking to avoid the line,
The line I am defending.
I must decide quickly.
Should I move and block him
Or remain in my position?
Hatred is rising, I must decide.
Do I violate the conforming acceptance,
Or ignore the rule while defending it?
I must decide.
NOW!
I can’t stand it.
I can’t let the bastard pass me.
I charge into the narrowing shoulder,
Force my way in, 5 car lengths gained.
KING OF THE ROAD!
Merging traffic, long lines.
No one coming on the right.
No insidious soul looking to sneak past,
I am on “alert”.
Wait! here comes a villain,
Speeding down the shoulder,
Looking to avoid the line,
The line I am defending.
I must decide quickly.
Should I move and block him
Or remain in my position?
Hatred is rising, I must decide.
Do I violate the conforming acceptance,
Or ignore the rule while defending it?
I must decide.
NOW!
I can’t stand it.
I can’t let the bastard pass me.
I charge into the narrowing shoulder,
Force my way in, 5 car lengths gained.
KING OF THE ROAD!
Morning Dove
Morning Dove
She didn’t seem to care,
Our presence, the latest of so many others,
Was harmless, perhaps annoying,
But necessary to fill her table.
Her feast, our crumbs.
A metaphor for survival?
Our kayak guide’s girlfriend keeps 19 cats,
Her house has no rats.
Could I come home to 19 cats?
There lies the dilemma.
Every form of life, from ameba to whale,
Calls for acceptance of the unacceptable.
Man is allowed to reject.
In doing so he joins innumerable
Life forms, perhaps sooner than necessary,
That chooses satiation over survival.
The dove continues to ignore us,
Irritated by our occasional swipes,
That should tell the silly bird
It’s time for her to find a worm.
She seems to counter,
“I’ve certain rights to these crumbs.
My life is devoted to this table.
I want you to leave”.
She didn’t seem to care,
Our presence, the latest of so many others,
Was harmless, perhaps annoying,
But necessary to fill her table.
Her feast, our crumbs.
A metaphor for survival?
Our kayak guide’s girlfriend keeps 19 cats,
Her house has no rats.
Could I come home to 19 cats?
There lies the dilemma.
Every form of life, from ameba to whale,
Calls for acceptance of the unacceptable.
Man is allowed to reject.
In doing so he joins innumerable
Life forms, perhaps sooner than necessary,
That chooses satiation over survival.
The dove continues to ignore us,
Irritated by our occasional swipes,
That should tell the silly bird
It’s time for her to find a worm.
She seems to counter,
“I’ve certain rights to these crumbs.
My life is devoted to this table.
I want you to leave”.
Saving the World
Do you remember leaving your ego behind,
Having no need to defend the minds “I”?
It often happens when your back,
Not your brain, triumphs.
We three volunteers, joined 15 others,
Performing chores,
If just for 3 weeks,
That might have meaning.
Something happened day one.
I counted 9 non-jews, 9 women
And nine people over 30.
18 Zionists out to save the world.
OK, maybe not the world,
Possibly, not even Israel.
As back up replacements for warehouse soldiers
We performed such high risk functions as blanket folding.
Before dismissing our efforts,
Honestly rendered,
Consider an army without folded blankets
One shudders.
Finished by 3 PM,
We tended to settle into small groups,
Based not on age, economics, sex or academics.
Rather we found one another through humor and beliefs.
Not religious beliefs but humanitarian ones.
For most this wasn’t their first volunteer effort.
We quickly were family, siblings,
Sharing histories, bullshit and causes.
Joining us in the final week
A member of our sponsors New York office
Brought his perceived role with him.
We did not let him in.
He existed with us, but not of us.
His presence allowed us to see
How we had joined hands.
Not forever more, but for this occasion.
Having no need to defend the minds “I”?
It often happens when your back,
Not your brain, triumphs.
We three volunteers, joined 15 others,
Performing chores,
If just for 3 weeks,
That might have meaning.
Something happened day one.
I counted 9 non-jews, 9 women
And nine people over 30.
18 Zionists out to save the world.
OK, maybe not the world,
Possibly, not even Israel.
As back up replacements for warehouse soldiers
We performed such high risk functions as blanket folding.
Before dismissing our efforts,
Honestly rendered,
Consider an army without folded blankets
One shudders.
Finished by 3 PM,
We tended to settle into small groups,
Based not on age, economics, sex or academics.
Rather we found one another through humor and beliefs.
Not religious beliefs but humanitarian ones.
For most this wasn’t their first volunteer effort.
We quickly were family, siblings,
Sharing histories, bullshit and causes.
Joining us in the final week
A member of our sponsors New York office
Brought his perceived role with him.
We did not let him in.
He existed with us, but not of us.
His presence allowed us to see
How we had joined hands.
Not forever more, but for this occasion.
Lost Dreams
Vinny went to Rome.
Stayed at a hotel out of town.
He enjoyed the comforts and space he wanted,
And failed to see Rome.
To experience requires involvement,
Abandonment of comfort in favor of uncertainty.
I will not find lost dreams
By standing in a good light.
Stayed at a hotel out of town.
He enjoyed the comforts and space he wanted,
And failed to see Rome.
To experience requires involvement,
Abandonment of comfort in favor of uncertainty.
I will not find lost dreams
By standing in a good light.
Suspending Belief
Kaua’i announces itself in slow motion.
Weather is part of it,
Roads require it
And Kamaanina’s* live it.
Haoles*can’t abide the pace.
Driving behind cars moving under the speed limit
Is a wake up call,
If you’re listening.
Homogenized western fundamentals
Find resistance from a local attitude
That moves slowly toward
Recognition that 60 seconds make a minute
Now before the second and minute hands
Crush the inchoate sense of time,
You can today, not tomorrow,
Slow the gears, and cautiously, exhale.
Chances are it won’t work,
Much effort spent defending “I”
Does not allow slack-key-guitars,
And roaring down the highway at 25 miles an hour.
*Haoles = mainland Caucasians
Kamaanina’s = locals
Weather is part of it,
Roads require it
And Kamaanina’s* live it.
Haoles*can’t abide the pace.
Driving behind cars moving under the speed limit
Is a wake up call,
If you’re listening.
Homogenized western fundamentals
Find resistance from a local attitude
That moves slowly toward
Recognition that 60 seconds make a minute
Now before the second and minute hands
Crush the inchoate sense of time,
You can today, not tomorrow,
Slow the gears, and cautiously, exhale.
Chances are it won’t work,
Much effort spent defending “I”
Does not allow slack-key-guitars,
And roaring down the highway at 25 miles an hour.
*Haoles = mainland Caucasians
Kamaanina’s = locals
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