I felt unclean,
Having volunteered to give a job interview training class
to 11 attendees, wounded in Iraq. All marines.
Ed, lost a leg to sniper fire.
Larry, Nick and Buddy suffered hearing, sight and voice damage respectively
In cross-fires while on patrol.
Marcia had lost her hip to an IED,
Chuck and Tim suffered brain damage in a similar event.
Mike lost a hand in a motor pool accident,
And Leroy an arm to “friendly fire”.
Two guys did not want to discuss the issue.
Not one of these marines was over nineteen when disabled.
All volunteered for combat.
Each thought they had defended our shores,
Would die, if necessary, for the soldier on his right or her left.
Most will never surrender their belief that the war was necessary,
Despite their resentment of all things Iraqi.
Yes, I had marched and protested against their war.
I resented these marines, who would justify our country's insanity.
Yes, these were the volunteers sent to “kick butt”,
To free the Iraqi’s, and bring Democracy.
They became part of an occupying army, that has killed tens of thousands.
These kids had gone to “do good”... or beat the other team,
And paid dearly for it.
Softening as the day wore on. I reached out and offered my help.
Theirs lives were very far from easy and they wanted what most Americans want.
May they find a good job, and with it, happiness.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Man with Dog Cookie
He came at me bearing a cookie for Rose.
A friendly smile and a “bottled water “ flyer
Completed his accoutrements.
Handing me both the cookie and the flyer,
He suggested I check out the water.
We shook hands and he departed.
Certainly the dog treat looked benign.
Yes it looks OK, but was it?
How could I know it was harmless?
By the same reasoning
Could I know a 200-pound safe
Would not fall from the sky,
Intent on ending my life?
“I am ridiculous, one too many
Scary news reports” my brain shouted.
“Yes, but its close to Halloween,
Poisoning little children and animals
Is an epidemic right NOW.
OK! OK!
This internal dialogue suggests
A need for immediate psychiatric intervention.
With mixed emotions I discarded the cookie.
Probably saving my dogs life.
A friendly smile and a “bottled water “ flyer
Completed his accoutrements.
Handing me both the cookie and the flyer,
He suggested I check out the water.
We shook hands and he departed.
Certainly the dog treat looked benign.
Yes it looks OK, but was it?
How could I know it was harmless?
By the same reasoning
Could I know a 200-pound safe
Would not fall from the sky,
Intent on ending my life?
“I am ridiculous, one too many
Scary news reports” my brain shouted.
“Yes, but its close to Halloween,
Poisoning little children and animals
Is an epidemic right NOW.
OK! OK!
This internal dialogue suggests
A need for immediate psychiatric intervention.
With mixed emotions I discarded the cookie.
Probably saving my dogs life.
A Silent Face
Expecting to see the child in the man,
I was stopped by his silence.
His eyes gave nothing away.
There is a celebration in the
Ten faces behind him.
He does not give himself away.
What dominates his thinking?
I am reminded of a tree
Whose naked winter calm
In the motionless air
Mocks our need for expression,
And creates a sense of permanence, without purpose.
Our protagonist, though accepted by the celebrants,
Could be placed in another setting,
Perhaps one less incongruous?
No threat or dominance
Bars his placement in the photo.
Neither hands nor lips speak of disappointment.
I am unsettled by his quiet.
He has, I think, assumed this aspect before,
Incredibly, exquisitely, neutral.
What might he be protecting?
Or am I rushing to fill the void?
I was stopped by his silence.
His eyes gave nothing away.
There is a celebration in the
Ten faces behind him.
He does not give himself away.
What dominates his thinking?
I am reminded of a tree
Whose naked winter calm
In the motionless air
Mocks our need for expression,
And creates a sense of permanence, without purpose.
Our protagonist, though accepted by the celebrants,
Could be placed in another setting,
Perhaps one less incongruous?
No threat or dominance
Bars his placement in the photo.
Neither hands nor lips speak of disappointment.
I am unsettled by his quiet.
He has, I think, assumed this aspect before,
Incredibly, exquisitely, neutral.
What might he be protecting?
Or am I rushing to fill the void?
Out Patient
Standing beside the bed, I look down at Sam.
Surgery to start in 15 minutes.
The anesthetic drip was taking him away.
He is not an “out patient”.
Pre-op was filling, all but 2 of 30 beds occupied.
White, blue and green uniformed staff
Moving at differing levels of responsibilities.
Whites might have rank, but blues ran the show
And greens did the work.
All, except the patients, wore sneakers
Each road leading us closer to the hospital
Increased our separation from those going elsewhere.
I wanted to stop and ask,
“Where are you going, could we exchange destinations?
I know your today will be easier than mine”.
(Maybe that’s not true, but I hold to the idea.)
How young some of the drivers look.
If Sam’s operation is successful,
He will buy a few months.
How many minutes and seconds is that?
Don’t trivialize by suggesting it is infinite,
I want no sophomoric philosophy.
I wish to feel the pain, not the separation that tells me I am safe.
Sounds good sitting in the IC waiting room.
No risk, book on my lap, no scalpels on my horizon.
Two hours later I’m told of success. (Why the hell does that word have duplicate letters?)
Post-op has a less hectic feel, less whites, more greens.
A short visit with Sam. He’ll be dopey ‘til tomorrow.
Home is silent, even with the TV on.
I speak with friends, but don’t record a word I hear or speak.
Tomorrow Sam will be alert. We’ll make plans.
Surgery to start in 15 minutes.
The anesthetic drip was taking him away.
He is not an “out patient”.
Pre-op was filling, all but 2 of 30 beds occupied.
White, blue and green uniformed staff
Moving at differing levels of responsibilities.
Whites might have rank, but blues ran the show
And greens did the work.
All, except the patients, wore sneakers
Each road leading us closer to the hospital
Increased our separation from those going elsewhere.
I wanted to stop and ask,
“Where are you going, could we exchange destinations?
I know your today will be easier than mine”.
(Maybe that’s not true, but I hold to the idea.)
How young some of the drivers look.
If Sam’s operation is successful,
He will buy a few months.
How many minutes and seconds is that?
Don’t trivialize by suggesting it is infinite,
I want no sophomoric philosophy.
I wish to feel the pain, not the separation that tells me I am safe.
Sounds good sitting in the IC waiting room.
No risk, book on my lap, no scalpels on my horizon.
Two hours later I’m told of success. (Why the hell does that word have duplicate letters?)
Post-op has a less hectic feel, less whites, more greens.
A short visit with Sam. He’ll be dopey ‘til tomorrow.
Home is silent, even with the TV on.
I speak with friends, but don’t record a word I hear or speak.
Tomorrow Sam will be alert. We’ll make plans.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Man Without Doggy Bag
I caught the s.o.b. in the act.
His dog had just pooped on the neighbors lawn.
I was there, not merely to witness the man’s indifference
To the mess he was leaving,
But ready to take decisive action.
I should have reflected upon his uncertainty when I handed him a doggy-bag.
(Never mind what the hell I’m doing, sans dog, with a doggy-bag).
I should have noted his inability to position the bag.
What was I thinking when he walked across the street
Looking right and left, then re-crossed?
I was busy being righteous.
I slept well that night,
Satisfied that I had helped maintain the street,
And by extension the universe,
Only to awaken to a less righteous epiphany.
His dog had just pooped on the neighbors lawn.
I was there, not merely to witness the man’s indifference
To the mess he was leaving,
But ready to take decisive action.
I should have reflected upon his uncertainty when I handed him a doggy-bag.
(Never mind what the hell I’m doing, sans dog, with a doggy-bag).
I should have noted his inability to position the bag.
What was I thinking when he walked across the street
Looking right and left, then re-crossed?
I was busy being righteous.
I slept well that night,
Satisfied that I had helped maintain the street,
And by extension the universe,
Only to awaken to a less righteous epiphany.
Last Flight
Walking through the caverns of Lindberg airport,
Resting place for the world's most popular bird,
My footsteps echo in the quiet
That precedes the last arrival for tonight.
Soon the day’s dissipating energy
Will briefly surge, then fall silent ‘til dawn.
Boarding in one world, arriving in another is routine.
Passengers treat the change as axiomatic.
They fly over the sometimes foreboding,
Sometimes magnificent, Earth
Without experiencing the cold of Greenland or the immensity of the Sahara.
For the travelers will not touch them,
Or be touched by them.
Flying is an elevator ride. Enter here exit there.
Better a boot, boat, car, or train to carry us
At a speed and elevation
That does not preclude “being there”.
Better , interaction with the people and places on your journey,
Better, the trials and small generosities of man and nature at ground level.
If life is the journey how can we fail to embrace it?.
11:07 and the last bird has landed.
Should I recant and offer the thought
That, for the passengers, their journey has just begun?
No! I’m not feeling that generous.
Resting place for the world's most popular bird,
My footsteps echo in the quiet
That precedes the last arrival for tonight.
Soon the day’s dissipating energy
Will briefly surge, then fall silent ‘til dawn.
Boarding in one world, arriving in another is routine.
Passengers treat the change as axiomatic.
They fly over the sometimes foreboding,
Sometimes magnificent, Earth
Without experiencing the cold of Greenland or the immensity of the Sahara.
For the travelers will not touch them,
Or be touched by them.
Flying is an elevator ride. Enter here exit there.
Better a boot, boat, car, or train to carry us
At a speed and elevation
That does not preclude “being there”.
Better , interaction with the people and places on your journey,
Better, the trials and small generosities of man and nature at ground level.
If life is the journey how can we fail to embrace it?.
11:07 and the last bird has landed.
Should I recant and offer the thought
That, for the passengers, their journey has just begun?
No! I’m not feeling that generous.
It Happens For A Reason
On a warm and sunny September morning,
A sadistic joke of a day, not dissimilar to 9/11,
20 people where gathered at the cemetery.
Little Michael had been hit by a speeding car.
His 4 year old body now enclosed in a child’s coffin,
Was lowered into a grave not much larger than him.
Reverend Carl’s attempt to console the parent
Was predictably unsuccessful.
To Stephen, the boy’s father, the words,
“Know that God wanted Michael in heaven for a Reason”
Pierced his mind, inflamed his heart.
Everyone would leave soon, too soon.
Stephen sobbed uncontrollably, mumbling self deprecations
And pleas for a different reality.
Pain turning to anger reached for purchase,
“WHAT REASON?” he screamed at Reverend Carl.
Aware of the unseemliness of his outburst,
Stephen immediately turned to the other mourners
To apologize, only to stop
And bellow, “WHY ?WHY?”,
Reverend Carl, a survivor of hundreds of funerals
Knew not to offer another suggestion.
Maybe later Stephen would accept God’s wisdom,
Or perhaps Stephen will demand, like Job,
An answer that will not be forthcoming.
A sadistic joke of a day, not dissimilar to 9/11,
20 people where gathered at the cemetery.
Little Michael had been hit by a speeding car.
His 4 year old body now enclosed in a child’s coffin,
Was lowered into a grave not much larger than him.
Reverend Carl’s attempt to console the parent
Was predictably unsuccessful.
To Stephen, the boy’s father, the words,
“Know that God wanted Michael in heaven for a Reason”
Pierced his mind, inflamed his heart.
Everyone would leave soon, too soon.
Stephen sobbed uncontrollably, mumbling self deprecations
And pleas for a different reality.
Pain turning to anger reached for purchase,
“WHAT REASON?” he screamed at Reverend Carl.
Aware of the unseemliness of his outburst,
Stephen immediately turned to the other mourners
To apologize, only to stop
And bellow, “WHY ?WHY?”,
Reverend Carl, a survivor of hundreds of funerals
Knew not to offer another suggestion.
Maybe later Stephen would accept God’s wisdom,
Or perhaps Stephen will demand, like Job,
An answer that will not be forthcoming.
Chickens
As a child I knew that Negroes kept chickens
For some kind of demonic ceremony.
We ate chicken once a week. I never associated those birds
With the stretched neck variety that hung in the butcher shop.
I wasn’t sure where scrambled eggs came from,
But I was assured it was not from chickens.
On a weekend upstate, which means beyond The Bronx,
I fed some chickens. They were loud, very loud.
I broke an egg & immediately heard of the devastation
I had caused in the chicken community.
Here are a few incredible insights into “chickaneri”
There are over 100 breeds, which come in different flavors.
There are an estimated 25 billion chickens in the world.
Placed end-to-end they would circle the globe 12 times.
(Homeland Security might consider using them
To suffocate incoming missiles.)
If chickens could organize they’d still be stupid.
Everyone who was not raised in Brooklyn has a chicken story.
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THEM!!
For some kind of demonic ceremony.
We ate chicken once a week. I never associated those birds
With the stretched neck variety that hung in the butcher shop.
I wasn’t sure where scrambled eggs came from,
But I was assured it was not from chickens.
On a weekend upstate, which means beyond The Bronx,
I fed some chickens. They were loud, very loud.
I broke an egg & immediately heard of the devastation
I had caused in the chicken community.
Here are a few incredible insights into “chickaneri”
There are over 100 breeds, which come in different flavors.
There are an estimated 25 billion chickens in the world.
Placed end-to-end they would circle the globe 12 times.
(Homeland Security might consider using them
To suffocate incoming missiles.)
If chickens could organize they’d still be stupid.
Everyone who was not raised in Brooklyn has a chicken story.
I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THEM!!
Losing Thanksgiving
At the start, nobody intended to steal
A strictly American holiday.
All celebrants, black, white, red and yellow,
Marked the innocuous feast.
Atheists and believers
Sat down to dinner.
(Vegetarians substituted for turkey).
Thanks given for a seat at the table.
As a family and friends event,
Without the need for religious blessings,
Recognizing our good fortune,
Knowing it could have been otherwise.
Good feelings spread far
Beyond those gathered.
For many, maybe most,
It speaks of a plentiful harvest.
Merchants understand the meaning.
Time to replenish our dreams.
Soliciting our participation
To share the bountiful offerings.
Gleaming palaces of marble and glass
Offered color, song and trinkets.
We recognize they spoke of our worth
Not realizing they spoke of our worth.
A strictly American holiday.
All celebrants, black, white, red and yellow,
Marked the innocuous feast.
Atheists and believers
Sat down to dinner.
(Vegetarians substituted for turkey).
Thanks given for a seat at the table.
As a family and friends event,
Without the need for religious blessings,
Recognizing our good fortune,
Knowing it could have been otherwise.
Good feelings spread far
Beyond those gathered.
For many, maybe most,
It speaks of a plentiful harvest.
Merchants understand the meaning.
Time to replenish our dreams.
Soliciting our participation
To share the bountiful offerings.
Gleaming palaces of marble and glass
Offered color, song and trinkets.
We recognize they spoke of our worth
Not realizing they spoke of our worth.
Sabbath Goy
I didn’t believe.
It made life easier.
Autumn was full of 3 and 4 day weekends.*
Maybe not a miracle, but very nice.
September was baseball,
Especially if you believed... in the Dodgers.
In my Brooklyn apartment house 2 things were given;
All the tenants were Jewish and all were Dodger fans.
All the guys were Bar Mitvahed.
None were religious,
Yet none would turn on a light
Or a TV on the Sabbath.
Well almost none.
In the opinion of this 14 year old
A god that thought watching a ball game was OK,
As long as you didn’t turn the TV on, was meshuga.**
After all it wasn’t much work, push a button, maybe 2.
After which, I would rest and watch the game.
Except the front doorbell kept ringing.
First Marty, then Herbie, Harvey, Bert and Al.
All regarded me as a condemned sinner.
All admonished me, saying God would not be happy.
Yet all found a place to sit, watch and enjoy,
While the Sabbath Goy turned on a bathroom light
* Jewish holidays added to weekend length.
** meshuga = crazy.
It made life easier.
Autumn was full of 3 and 4 day weekends.*
Maybe not a miracle, but very nice.
September was baseball,
Especially if you believed... in the Dodgers.
In my Brooklyn apartment house 2 things were given;
All the tenants were Jewish and all were Dodger fans.
All the guys were Bar Mitvahed.
None were religious,
Yet none would turn on a light
Or a TV on the Sabbath.
Well almost none.
In the opinion of this 14 year old
A god that thought watching a ball game was OK,
As long as you didn’t turn the TV on, was meshuga.**
After all it wasn’t much work, push a button, maybe 2.
After which, I would rest and watch the game.
Except the front doorbell kept ringing.
First Marty, then Herbie, Harvey, Bert and Al.
All regarded me as a condemned sinner.
All admonished me, saying God would not be happy.
Yet all found a place to sit, watch and enjoy,
While the Sabbath Goy turned on a bathroom light
* Jewish holidays added to weekend length.
** meshuga = crazy.
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