What Happened?

50 years without improvement!

Is that possible?

Only if you live in a different universe,

One with flexible time.

How can a 43 year old be a 50 year problem?

Only if you’re really bad at math,

Or the gears are wearing down

And the engineer doesn't remember how to change them.

It's kind of funny,

If you’re observing from a safe distance,

Say the other side of the room,

Less humorous if you’re the engineer.

Observing aberrant calculations 

When it's your blackboard and chalk,

Attests to a certain fragility of process

And suggests giving up chess for checkers.

There is nothing wrong with checkers.

It uses the same board as chess.

Of course the pieces are not as diverse

But it's a nice way to idle away a day.

Stand Your Ground, The Mind of a Racist

I believe that marriage is reserved

For heterosexuals.

Homo’s can live together,

But that should be conditional.

It strikes me as perfectly reasonable

To expect that the flagrant sinners,

Who choose to live in moral decadence,

Conduct themselves with utmost decorum.

Certainly it is not too much to expect

A quiet, reserved, disposition from people

Who have shown such disregard for normalcy.

I have personally observed some very nice Gays.

Still there are always belligerents

Intent on making trouble:

Parading, holding cities hostage,

While they display themselves in a most disgusting manner.

I don't know if homosexuality is curable.

I do know that their sexual behavior

Resulted in the AIDS pandemic that still endures.

Why don’t they recognize God’s disappointment?

   

Compensation

I offered Jim a job.

He was to manage our Sunnyvale store.

Jim wanted more money,

Explained his living costs.

I was unmoved.

I thought the job was worth my offer.

His costs did not change his worth.

My offer did not change.

His choices had not been good,

Take the job or remain unemployed.

Perhaps I could have been more generous,

But there was no need.

Everyone shared in bonuses

That were based on store sales.

Owners did not share,

But received 75% of the profits.

With hindsight (the only game where losing is not allowed)

I’m not sure I’d have handled employee wages differently.

Strange that I negotiate with myself so many years later.

Guilty conscience?

Dining Out

It was probably my casual attire,

(OK, no one has labeled me fashion sensitive)

That suggested he needn’t rush.

He continued folding napkins and ignoring us.

I had in mind to suggest

He stuff the napkins up his ass,

Instead I offered myself a warning:

Don’t let the sucker ruin your dinner.

How nice, look at this; 

Giving up napkins & a view of the bar TV

Just to give me a seat in his restaurant.

Christ, Jerry back off.

We walk past empty tables

To get to the back of the place.

 And will you look at that:

Table set for twelve two feet from ours.

I could have worn an upscale jacket.

That might have gotten me better service.

I can change jackets, 

Skin tone will take longer.

Toast

When Ray arrived we paused,

Raised our glasses,

Saluted Oscar,

Then dealt the next hand.

I remember all those people

With tributes to Oscar;

His grace, wit and humanity.

A very good man.

Eight guys socializing around a poker table.

It’s a no-harm game,

Chances are the big winner 

Will clear enough to cover gas cost to get here.

I don’t see these guys during the month,

But for the next three and a half hours

Tiny truths, safe and respectful,

Offered as humor, float over us.

Did I mention Oscar had a great voice,

Resonant and mellow?

Here’s to you, my man.

You wont know this tribute, but I’ll remember.

Reading Poetry in the Park

It looks safe.

A small inconspicuous shady patch,

Reserved, once a month,

For an hour’s worth of poetry.

I hope to hear thoughts that transcend

My closely held view of yesterday and tomorrow.

Someone may offer another universe

Made accessible via some other poet's verse.

We six intrepid writers,

Accompanied by four spear carriers,

Approach the poet’s art

From mutually alien planets---

Therein lies our potential:

How close to honesty will we stray,

Trusting our audience to allow

For thoughts possibly repugnant, or incomprehensible.

Halfway through our one hour journey

I feel comforted by the ease

With which we avoid explanations,

And attend only to the spoken word.

A Vote For Civility

Before the moderator was introduced,

Before the debate could begin

A cautionary note was inserted by the host:

Tell us why we should vote for you.

Do note spend this limited time

Assailing the opposition.

You are tasked with relating a story

That will persuade us you are a viable candidate for the job.

To my surprise the two candidates followed the admonition.

Questions proffered by the moderator 

Received relevant responses.

The audience of 50 heard rational and reasoned answers.

Each candidate presented a closing argument.

A vote for an endorsement of either candidate fell short.

All told a good, if microscopic, day for democracy. 

Come the Revolution

We give subsidies to the needy.

Corn, oil, corporate farmers, come to mind.

Given the time and place I would kill them all.

It is in the nature of revolution: mercy killings.

I have not gotten mellow.

There is no point in expecting improvement.

Sorry, I failed to include five members of the Supremes.

They really should be first, and I apologize for my oversight.

To be willingly law-abiding finally requires belief,

Or recognition that the price of noncompliance can be high.

I suppose the church fathers took the same view.

No doubt they support the evil they created.

Does your burden feel too heavy?

Do you envy the man who steals your bread?

Not enough: You must cut his tongue out

And rewrite the law he has thrust upon you.

I don’t expect the revolution to succeed,

It probably is nothing more than

Hoping to end a very boring show

That has gone on endlessly.

How to start:

Do not pay your taxes.

When the nice looking lady in the back seat of the limousine

That, with indifference, blocks your path

Open the back door, pull her out & smash her face.

Only then should you shoot the driver.

BUT WHERE’S THE LOVE?

Dead for lack of oxygen, crushed under the wheels of the private jet.

Mud In Your Eye

Wow!

That miserable, creepy son-of-a-bitch 

Threw that book at me.

What do I do with this?

I’ve been teaching for 12 years

And have a stack of letters and awards

That speak to my teacher/student relationships.

Now this.

Yeah the kid was not doing well.

No doubt he holds me responsible.

Yeah, I figured that out

When the book sailed past my nose.

Come Monday does he assault my classroom?

Do we put the school in lock-down, increase security?

No, I didn’t see it coming.

Yes, the school and the police have been notified.

I should see a psychologist.

I could carry this one a long, long time.

Does the kid get tossed? Maybe get a criminal charge?

Do I need to move, wife, dogs and all?

One minute I’m explaining next week’s final exam.

Next, the bastard throws a book.

This is America, where there are more guns than people.

Christ, do I get a bodyguard?

My mind is racing. I’m a mess.

Get a grip! Right!

Later I’ll look at how I ahandled this.

Now I want to be safe.

A Distant Walk

Dad loved walking.

Had he lived in my town,

Where the terrain is gentle,

He’d surely have stepped out every morning.

He would have loved the changing personality

Of the Pacific Ocean on the coastal reaches

And the boat traffic

On the bay side of the island.

Striding past the multicolored roses

That bloom nine months a year,

And bikers who’d leave the sidewalk

To the senior strollers.

Mom would have frowned,

But my picture would be incomplete without a Lab

Named Ace bouncing at Dad’s side,

Or settled at his feet when Dad stopped for coffee.

It’s nine and the light morning fog will lift,

Bringing another brilliant blue sky,

Obviating any need for a light sweater.

Lets make it a low-trafficked Saturday morning.

Yes, he’d have a favorite bench,

Probably by the ferry landing.

Dad rests, witnesses tourist disembarking,

And smiles to himself.