With a Following Wind

When odds, genes and insight combine

To call for action,

I blame my reluctance to risk

On fear of flying.

I view my frequent unwillingness

To look carefully at inconvenient options

As intellectual timidity and a cynical nature.

A deadly combination.

I’ve little doubt that being in the right playground

Has kept my failures in check,

Allowing for a life not without some crapshoots,

And the occasional success.

Different parents with other priorities,

Slower reflexes and a nation,

Unlike mine, offering less opportunity

To walk, run or fly, would have ended my chances.

So, before I grow more skeptical

I will salute America, while expressing my concerns.

I am one of the lucky ones,

With most boxes checked and the freedom to screw it up.

After the Doom

What had happened?

Last night’s “disaster” was merely a ripple.

No confrontations followed

And I was left with an apologetic-looking smile.

Was there something of value to be gleaned?

Probably, but without the pain of abject failure

I don’t know where the energy will come from

To squeeze the lessons there for the milk.

Someone will draw the 80 to 1 winner.

Humility, in the moment of victory,

Was the pronouncement whispered

In the ear of the conquering general.

Surely the blessing of a perceived failure,

Reversed by whims of chance,

Might allow for that miracle:

A moment of genuine clarity.

But the gods will have their say,

And amusement is their utmost desire.

So we will recognize our overarching wisdom,

And gain as little as possible from the experience.

Old Bearded Man

At the waters edge,

Dragging his small dingy ashore,

The old guy looked exhausted.

Mel suggested he needed help.

Approaching the wizened stranger,

I offered my 75 year-old body to help move his dingy.

Bent forward and leaning inland

He pointed to where the boat should rest.

Thanking me profusely, he settled

Into the sand to watch my progress.

Mel, twenty feet away, remained an interested spectator,

As I dragged the small craft as best I could.

Driven by guilt, and noticing my very limited progress,

Mel and his equally ancient body joined me in the ankle-deep water,

And between us, with the old guy giving directions,

We got the dingy into place.

Parting from the old bearded one,

We wished him well

And asked his age.

Turns out he was 66!

The Salon

I should have anticipated the vitriol.

When a shibboleth is threatened,

Bad things happen.

Leaving my tribe means losing comfort.

Communication is harder,

A nod is something else to some one else.

None of the presenters were Americans,

And they offered views that conflicted with

My beliefs.

They suggested my enemy was malleable,

Devaluing its history of hate and murder,

Inferring that I was rigid and unreasonable.

I reject their claims

And wonder if they have an agenda.

That would weaken my position?.

Now I have my back covered.

I have the guns and the options,

But not forever.

Ode to the Self-righteous

At three in the morning the epiphany landed:

I have beliefs that are essential to my self-definition.

They are safeguarded by a surrounding barrier

That radiates warning signals far beyond any danger.

I will stand my ground and defend my property,

Won at gunpoint from an invading army.

Soft voices, in an attempt at seduction,

Whisper of peace and understating.

Those same voices had been harsh,

Calling for my death

When they thought victory would be theirs.

They were wrong.

Do they wish to die for Allah, or virgins?

Good, I will assist.

We are not of the meek, 

Pacifism has been replaced by righteousness.

A Matter of Principle

My car was hit,

Or I hit something with my car.

Damages are not insignificant,

And might not be noticed by a casual observer.

Repair cost of $1500.

Need for correction 0

Desire to get work done 0

Internal self monitoring pressure 50% and rising.

I am cheap.

What is my comfort level with my car looking like

An orphan in need of new front teeth?

A problem.

I know the world will not whisper

“Jerry is too cheap to repair his car”

Friends’ sleeping habits will not change.

I will not be expelled from my poker group.

Whence my self-image problem?

I am a fraud. I flagellate  materialism at every opportunity,

Yet, I’d consider standing in front of the indented bumper,

By way of hiding the damage.

A Cats Life

Someone hit the wall and bounced.

Safety instructions, available in several languages,

Recommend avoiding large intransigent objects;

It could lead to a severe headache…or death.

And I thought about something, I think.

It might have been important, I’ll never know.

Coming home from a lunch meeting.

Traffic held steady at 65 miles per,

I do remember a scraping sound.

What the hell was that?

An epiphany!

I was riding up the low separation wall on U.S. 5.

The car in front of me, not climbing any wall,

Was awfully close.

Why was he driving so slowly?

Wait: I had to get the tires back on the road.

Easing down, I moved cautiously to the right,

Getting off 5 at the first exit,

Safely parked, I checked the cars left side.

Not much damage.

I could now consider what had happened:

No alcohol at lunch,

I was very lucky this time,

Get yourself home!

Often I imagine a green eyed

Black Persian cat.

Always a he, with an unemotional attitude,

Watching for another of life’s options to pass.

A World At Peace?

Here is the answer:

We can create a world at peace.

Of course we will dictate the terms,

But they will be fair and balanced.

With little human involvement

A new, improved, miniature drone system 

Will reshape human behavior.

Casualties will be minimal.

Guns will be replaced with sound and light projections.

Two inch or smaller drones, 

Perhaps as many as 100,000, 

Will be launched in low orbit.

These fiendish little beauties 

Will act as relays,

Forwarding sound or light transmissions

Into misbehaving factories, homes, offices and people.

They will relay visual images in color

To Bubba One, located in a very secure, excruciatingly secret location.

Copies of the photos will be available on line,

Instantly if not sooner, for a nominal fee.

Those fees will help fund the contractor

Who will be providing our Armed Forces

With this superb system.

We expect to have the whole operation profitable within two years.

Bubba One will be suggesting targets for the system

To the congressional joint committee on human safety.

Errant behavior patterns, reviewed by a team of psychologists,

Will aid in the selection of potential enemies.

While final details are being exhaustively reviewed,

We are now able to confirm the sale of shares in World At Peace,

At $.99 per share, with a maximum of 200,000,000 per person.

Our operators are standing by.

Smelling of Marijuan

A day’s suspension seemed about right.

Trayvon just smelled of the stuff.

Half the teachers won’t go into the john,

Enough said.

He might have been guilty of rape, burglary,

Drug running, auto theft and masturbating.

He might have been a good kid.

He is dead because he is black.

Can we hold the thought and deal?

Have we reached the point where economics,

The result of a flattening world, is the next best hope?

Where a better idea will preclude a racial statement?

If so, the irony will be perfect.

From the “Invisible Man” that we refuse to see

To the invisible man hidden behind the algorithm,

Too clever to be ignored.

What of the ideology that encourages 

Confrontation over negotiation?

That prefers “Stand Your Ground”  

To a considered response.

Must we wait for Evolution’s answer,

Knowing that change does not denote enlightenment,

And that imprisoning the “other” for his skin-tone 

Makes us keepers of slaves, and slaves to fiction.

Tuesday's Lunch

Can you present the best case?

Does the result matter?

Or are you merely going on record

To make it known you cared?

Fred would change his schedule to be there,

Because being there was important to him.

Jerry was not immune to friendship

And missing a Tuesday lunch would be a loss.

Consider: they had traveled to the place of free desserts,

Like the gambler who gets comp accommodations

By virtue of time spent on location,

Our heroes had paid their dues.

Lunch was an hour devoted to women and baseball,

Or so the billing said.

Camaraderie dictated the cover,

But sometimes a truth might flow, only slightly abridged.

Friendly conversations between Fred, Jerry and Ray

Occasionally morphs into thoughts less varnished.

From the safety of a sympathic home team performance

Into a statement of belief or regret.