Fifth Option 1/15/12
She came when I called...
After checking, like a good NFL quarterback,
Her four preferred options:
Sandy Beach, Birds, other Dogs and landscape.
Rose wasn’t argumentative.
She simply knew what mattered.
Her piece of the bed might vary,
But always included encampment against my knees.
A 44 pound mutt, should not be difficult to move,
But there was some kind of moral imperative
Blocking the obvious alternative,
To laying with legs frozen in place for seven hours.
Somehow Rose had gained an absolute right
To sleep in a position that forbade me comfort.
Why should she have options
That were not afforded me?
I can imagine Rose replying:
“I don’t get to walk whenever I want,
I don’t get to eat chocolates,
And you can drive without me.”
OK, her logic is somewhat superior to mine.
I never suggested she was stupid.
But fifth option is insulting.
For christ-sake, she could show a little respect.
Monday, January 23, 2012
What Matters?
What Matters ? 1/16/12
I ate a seedless tangerine this morning.
It is not obviously a world changing event.
No clash of civilizations arise
To defend or capture a seedless tangerine.
If we were to discuss the creation of a seedless tangerine,
It would be essential that we consider the science involved.
What happened to the seed?
What are the ramifications of such an accomplishment?
Can we imagine life without seeds?
What about seedless artichokes
Or elephants and whales?
We must be careful.
Can we make tall blond haired people
If genetic seeds can be eliminated?
Will the biblical injunctions against homosexuals
Need modification if reproduction is seedless?
Clearly, however innocently created,
My seedless tangerine suggests grave prospects.
I do not relish the return of that despicable seed,
But we can see the need, for the seed matters.
I ate a seedless tangerine this morning.
It is not obviously a world changing event.
No clash of civilizations arise
To defend or capture a seedless tangerine.
If we were to discuss the creation of a seedless tangerine,
It would be essential that we consider the science involved.
What happened to the seed?
What are the ramifications of such an accomplishment?
Can we imagine life without seeds?
What about seedless artichokes
Or elephants and whales?
We must be careful.
Can we make tall blond haired people
If genetic seeds can be eliminated?
Will the biblical injunctions against homosexuals
Need modification if reproduction is seedless?
Clearly, however innocently created,
My seedless tangerine suggests grave prospects.
I do not relish the return of that despicable seed,
But we can see the need, for the seed matters.
Two Parking Spaces
Two Parking Spaces 1/18/12
Like the man said “The fault -- is not in the stars”.
I have an adequate garage
So the problem is not mine,
Unless I chose.
My neighbor uses her car rarely,
But leaves it parked so that
What is a two car space
Can hold but one.
It may be her apparent wealth
That argues for special privileges,
Her newest Mercedes could get bumped.
Some day she might have a guest car needing parking.
Other folks on the block,
Many not having a parking space
End up parked blocks away.
Of course, they might recognize the affront.
In truth I’m not sure anyone but me
Is aware of the outrage being perpetrated.
I could post a notice on the curb side trees,
Pointing out the address of the evil doer.
At least theoretically, there is a higher calling here.
My neighbor has usurped a neighborhood asset.
Am I not called upon to attempt to pursued the woman,
And, if nicely done, might it not end happily?
But as I said, I have an adequate garage.
Like the man said “The fault -- is not in the stars”.
I have an adequate garage
So the problem is not mine,
Unless I chose.
My neighbor uses her car rarely,
But leaves it parked so that
What is a two car space
Can hold but one.
It may be her apparent wealth
That argues for special privileges,
Her newest Mercedes could get bumped.
Some day she might have a guest car needing parking.
Other folks on the block,
Many not having a parking space
End up parked blocks away.
Of course, they might recognize the affront.
In truth I’m not sure anyone but me
Is aware of the outrage being perpetrated.
I could post a notice on the curb side trees,
Pointing out the address of the evil doer.
At least theoretically, there is a higher calling here.
My neighbor has usurped a neighborhood asset.
Am I not called upon to attempt to pursued the woman,
And, if nicely done, might it not end happily?
But as I said, I have an adequate garage.
I Am the Keeper of the Word!
I Am the Keeper of the Word! 1/18/12
I am a righteous man.
God’s word is the supreme authority
On all matters.
I study and follow his commandments.
Even though the eight year old girl
Did dress most inappropriately,
Insulting God’s message,
I should have not spit on her.
Her parents are to blame,
Mostly her mother.
Debra, the mother, is a failing believer.
How else to explain the daughter’s despicable school dress.
Of course, it was important that
Both mother and daughter understood our distress.
If we were to allow such a scandalous display
We could expect the Lord’s punishment.
How badly might our young, righteous, men
Drift from their studies,
If confronted by a brazen harlot?
We must be vigilant and unswerving.
I am a righteous man.
God’s word is the supreme authority
On all matters.
I study and follow his commandments.
Even though the eight year old girl
Did dress most inappropriately,
Insulting God’s message,
I should have not spit on her.
Her parents are to blame,
Mostly her mother.
Debra, the mother, is a failing believer.
How else to explain the daughter’s despicable school dress.
Of course, it was important that
Both mother and daughter understood our distress.
If we were to allow such a scandalous display
We could expect the Lord’s punishment.
How badly might our young, righteous, men
Drift from their studies,
If confronted by a brazen harlot?
We must be vigilant and unswerving.
And the Crowd Cheered
I was eighteen once.
At least the chronology is there,
Despite a retrospective glance
That suggests I spent the year hiding.
Eighteen is an age of war.
Hormones and your country’s enemies
Form an amalgam top heavy with sex,
And games devoted to super-sizing latent heroics.
While I masturbated as a feeble alternative
To actually risking contact with girls,
Many of my betters had mastered the games,
And concluded Ayn Rand had it right.
Fortunately, they saw themselves as John Galt,
Not the people who would be led to the promised land.
Unfortunately, many did not turn nineteen,
And continued to believe that gravity is optional.
Today, those senior eighteen year-olds
Still talk of kicking butt
And believe the “golden rule”
Is promoted by blood sucking socialists.
Tomorrow they will rule,
And discover that gravity is stubborn;
Compromise is essential,
And that they have been played.
At least the chronology is there,
Despite a retrospective glance
That suggests I spent the year hiding.
Eighteen is an age of war.
Hormones and your country’s enemies
Form an amalgam top heavy with sex,
And games devoted to super-sizing latent heroics.
While I masturbated as a feeble alternative
To actually risking contact with girls,
Many of my betters had mastered the games,
And concluded Ayn Rand had it right.
Fortunately, they saw themselves as John Galt,
Not the people who would be led to the promised land.
Unfortunately, many did not turn nineteen,
And continued to believe that gravity is optional.
Today, those senior eighteen year-olds
Still talk of kicking butt
And believe the “golden rule”
Is promoted by blood sucking socialists.
Tomorrow they will rule,
And discover that gravity is stubborn;
Compromise is essential,
And that they have been played.
Walks
Walks 1/21/12
Andy walks every chance he gets.
Running stopped when the back surgeries began.
If there was a guinness record for back surgeries
He would own the sucker.
I am 5’6”, Andy’s 5’3”
And five years my senior.
My expectation is that
I will always be able to look down on Andy.
He is my only friend that is shorter
And this makes him special.
He is also a reader and doer,
Both traits I admire, along with my being taller.
Accompanied by my dog, Rose,
Ours is a beachside walk,
Where our assigned roles
Reflect over and underlapping sympathies.
Andy tends toward the tutorial
While I lean in a Brooklyn direction.
It is a rare stroll that fails
To be stimulating and convivial.
I have come to consider our 45 morning minutes
Something of a treasure.
Like me, I suspect Andy, does not want agreement,
Rather, if there is an objective, it is friendship.
Andy walks every chance he gets.
Running stopped when the back surgeries began.
If there was a guinness record for back surgeries
He would own the sucker.
I am 5’6”, Andy’s 5’3”
And five years my senior.
My expectation is that
I will always be able to look down on Andy.
He is my only friend that is shorter
And this makes him special.
He is also a reader and doer,
Both traits I admire, along with my being taller.
Accompanied by my dog, Rose,
Ours is a beachside walk,
Where our assigned roles
Reflect over and underlapping sympathies.
Andy tends toward the tutorial
While I lean in a Brooklyn direction.
It is a rare stroll that fails
To be stimulating and convivial.
I have come to consider our 45 morning minutes
Something of a treasure.
Like me, I suspect Andy, does not want agreement,
Rather, if there is an objective, it is friendship.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
In the Shade
Walking across a small green park
I approached an invalid
Sitting in a motorized wheel chair
In the shade of a Japanese Maple tree.
I asked if he needed assistance.
Able to speak, but with control
Only of his eyes, finger and mouth
He assured me he was OK, but could use some water.
I held up my empty hands and replied “sorry”.
I did not mention I lived just off the edge of the park
And could get him some water
With little difficulty.
Rose, my black mutt led
As we crossed the street
And entered my house.
I did not see the wheel chaired guy again.
With bottles of water in the frig
It would have been easy, so easy,
To walk back to the park.
I thought then, and think now --why?
I approached an invalid
Sitting in a motorized wheel chair
In the shade of a Japanese Maple tree.
I asked if he needed assistance.
Able to speak, but with control
Only of his eyes, finger and mouth
He assured me he was OK, but could use some water.
I held up my empty hands and replied “sorry”.
I did not mention I lived just off the edge of the park
And could get him some water
With little difficulty.
Rose, my black mutt led
As we crossed the street
And entered my house.
I did not see the wheel chaired guy again.
With bottles of water in the frig
It would have been easy, so easy,
To walk back to the park.
I thought then, and think now --why?
Panic
Why did the son-of -bitch stand?
I need to keep pushing,
Just another foot
And I’ll reach the overhead storage.
Didn’t I say “excuse me”?
I’ve got to get passed these morons,
All these people now standing,
Blocking my path.
OK. Nice of this young guy to help.
What now?
No room to put the luggage down.
No one deplaning.
Am I claustrophobic?
I remember this feeling.
Train door closing,
Space by the door... jammed.
My daily waking nightmare.
In the center of the subway car I see a space.
If I push a little more I’ll reach Nirvana
A quiet place with a pole to grip.
Jets have no quiet place,
Unless you remain seated.
Why not wait for the others to pass?
Next time I’ll do that!
I need to keep pushing,
Just another foot
And I’ll reach the overhead storage.
Didn’t I say “excuse me”?
I’ve got to get passed these morons,
All these people now standing,
Blocking my path.
OK. Nice of this young guy to help.
What now?
No room to put the luggage down.
No one deplaning.
Am I claustrophobic?
I remember this feeling.
Train door closing,
Space by the door... jammed.
My daily waking nightmare.
In the center of the subway car I see a space.
If I push a little more I’ll reach Nirvana
A quiet place with a pole to grip.
Jets have no quiet place,
Unless you remain seated.
Why not wait for the others to pass?
Next time I’ll do that!
I’m the Good Guy
I have taken the remnants
And made the structure whole.
Where there was no direction,
There are now a mission and believers.
Yet I am called out,
My motives questioned.
I hold to the need for process
But am seen as trivializing.
I have never looked for honors
Or Hosannas to reassure my acceptance.
Yet good people misunderstand me,
Thinking I wish to remain first citizen.
How sure am I that they are mistaken?
Am I hiding behind a mask,
Unaware that I have drifted
Into a defensive posture?
When did reason go out of fashion?
Or is that another ego trip,
Absolving myself from lost insight?
Is there time to recover?
My enemies are many
And sense weakness.
They deride my proposals.
Compromise is not on their agenda.
This is war
And I have wasted too much time
On self pity and good intentions.
Now I must draw blood, or concede.
And made the structure whole.
Where there was no direction,
There are now a mission and believers.
Yet I am called out,
My motives questioned.
I hold to the need for process
But am seen as trivializing.
I have never looked for honors
Or Hosannas to reassure my acceptance.
Yet good people misunderstand me,
Thinking I wish to remain first citizen.
How sure am I that they are mistaken?
Am I hiding behind a mask,
Unaware that I have drifted
Into a defensive posture?
When did reason go out of fashion?
Or is that another ego trip,
Absolving myself from lost insight?
Is there time to recover?
My enemies are many
And sense weakness.
They deride my proposals.
Compromise is not on their agenda.
This is war
And I have wasted too much time
On self pity and good intentions.
Now I must draw blood, or concede.
I Can See Clearly Now.
If the world has changed to brown
Its been a subtle evolution.
Daily changes go unnoticed
Until confronted by a new revelation.
These pants are too tight.
Why has the quality of my newspaper diminished?
Possibly the shrinkage lies elsewhere.
I can’t recall the world not being brown.
After my surgery the world was less brown.
Rumors of ships beyond the immediate sea-line
Became a reality,
Along with a whitewashed palette.
What must I do with this transformed Earth?
I can store my magnifying glass,
But can’t I do more with this gift?
Is this not second sight?
I am awash with a clarity
Of vision that needs expression.
What once was the Rose has gained
A far broader spectrum.
My paradigms no longer suffice,
Not when I am informed
Of this alternative
Arrangement of my universe.
I know I shan’t remain in this euphoria,
My exploding world of colors,
Not seen in memory,
Will settle to this new standard.
But for this moment
I see as a new-born,
With wonder,
Though I have no way to hold fast to the colors.
Its been a subtle evolution.
Daily changes go unnoticed
Until confronted by a new revelation.
These pants are too tight.
Why has the quality of my newspaper diminished?
Possibly the shrinkage lies elsewhere.
I can’t recall the world not being brown.
After my surgery the world was less brown.
Rumors of ships beyond the immediate sea-line
Became a reality,
Along with a whitewashed palette.
What must I do with this transformed Earth?
I can store my magnifying glass,
But can’t I do more with this gift?
Is this not second sight?
I am awash with a clarity
Of vision that needs expression.
What once was the Rose has gained
A far broader spectrum.
My paradigms no longer suffice,
Not when I am informed
Of this alternative
Arrangement of my universe.
I know I shan’t remain in this euphoria,
My exploding world of colors,
Not seen in memory,
Will settle to this new standard.
But for this moment
I see as a new-born,
With wonder,
Though I have no way to hold fast to the colors.
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