Ted is dead.
Don’t chew know he died in his sleep,
Drunk as a lord,
A nasty bastard, no one will weep.
I fir one feel no loss,
The slimy bum stole me money
There was a trick, he said we’d do.
Turned out I’m the trick, not very funny.
I’m sure the good father will offer a sermon,
But it best be short, with no time wasted,
Fir the flock will be dry, anxious to leave,
Begorra! by one they’ll want to be pasted.
Yep, Ted’s gone, he’ll near be missed
He’ll hold up no building, lie in no puddle,
No cursing from him, no screaming or shouting.
Ted was nothing, if not very subtle.
I think the crook would laugh at the end,
Watching fathers and mothers,
Looking sternly at his passing coffin.
Above all, he prized the discomfit of others.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Jed
Jed is dead,
I heard it from Ted.
He got it, he said,
From the church notice he read.
Will miss ol’ Jed.
Died in his bed,
From a cut in his head,
I’d rather Jim had died instead.
A rumor, spread by Ned,
Said Jed had just bled and bled
His blanket all red,
From the cut in his head.
Jed’s coffin seemed made of lead,.
Of course he was very well fed,
Always eating a very big spread,
How did he get that cut in his head?
A drive with Jed
Filled you with dread.
Never slow, he always sped.
As though from something he fled.
Maybe that’s how he got the cut in his head?
I heard it from Ted.
He got it, he said,
From the church notice he read.
Will miss ol’ Jed.
Died in his bed,
From a cut in his head,
I’d rather Jim had died instead.
A rumor, spread by Ned,
Said Jed had just bled and bled
His blanket all red,
From the cut in his head.
Jed’s coffin seemed made of lead,.
Of course he was very well fed,
Always eating a very big spread,
How did he get that cut in his head?
A drive with Jed
Filled you with dread.
Never slow, he always sped.
As though from something he fled.
Maybe that’s how he got the cut in his head?
Palms
Locked in an epic struggle.
Either I hit the back of her hand
Or she best me and scurries to safety.
Her hands rest on my palms.
Intense concentration Is written in her eyes.
(If only she bestowed it on her math!)
Time suspended, her next movement critical.
8 years-old, with dark brown eyes,
An olive complexion, and long deep brown hair,
Absent is her usually hair twisting.
She must maintain contact while considering her move.
A troubled child, from a broken family
She retains her innocence.
Or am I too old to see the cunning?
Smiling, Emily fakes,
Starts to lift her hands, but retains contact.
Is there a comfort in our touching hands?
Or is she merely following instructions?
I’m fast.
She will barely lift off
Before I hit the back of her hands,
Maybe I’m foolishly over-confident?
I would light a candle in prayer
That Emily’s world
Will allow wonders.
Either I hit the back of her hand
Or she best me and scurries to safety.
Her hands rest on my palms.
Intense concentration Is written in her eyes.
(If only she bestowed it on her math!)
Time suspended, her next movement critical.
8 years-old, with dark brown eyes,
An olive complexion, and long deep brown hair,
Absent is her usually hair twisting.
She must maintain contact while considering her move.
A troubled child, from a broken family
She retains her innocence.
Or am I too old to see the cunning?
Smiling, Emily fakes,
Starts to lift her hands, but retains contact.
Is there a comfort in our touching hands?
Or is she merely following instructions?
I’m fast.
She will barely lift off
Before I hit the back of her hands,
Maybe I’m foolishly over-confident?
I would light a candle in prayer
That Emily’s world
Will allow wonders.
Battle on Olympus
“Back off!” I said.
He had definitely gotten in my space.
Tensions were climbing.
A brawl was about to start.
One day back after the hike up Olympus
And this guy wanted my pail.
My child’s pail, strainer and tiny shovel,
No way Dud!
In the brawn part of an archeological study.
“Had glaciers existed on Mt Olympus?”,
We grunts measured and tested
Circes on the top, and residue on the bottom.
That day we were charged with
Collecting small sea shells from the Aegean,
A task that called for wading into
A warm, clear sea, in search of past glaciers
Our task required taking a child’s pail,
Filling with sand and walking to the waters edge
Strain the sand, save shells & dump the remainder,
Momentarily discoloring the blue. green water.
Locals watched, and concluded we were a danger,
Both to the sea, and the small rise
Where the sand had resided.
We were undermining the mountain
They demanded possession of shovel, strainer and pail.
We could be terrorists,
Bent on destroying Mount Olympus
Along with the entire Mediterranean.
We had to be stopped.
Take my pail? Not likely.
I loved my pail.
No, I would fight to retain it,
Until the neighboring Neanderthals
produced palm sized throwing rocks.
Welcome to 25,000 BC.
He had definitely gotten in my space.
Tensions were climbing.
A brawl was about to start.
One day back after the hike up Olympus
And this guy wanted my pail.
My child’s pail, strainer and tiny shovel,
No way Dud!
In the brawn part of an archeological study.
“Had glaciers existed on Mt Olympus?”,
We grunts measured and tested
Circes on the top, and residue on the bottom.
That day we were charged with
Collecting small sea shells from the Aegean,
A task that called for wading into
A warm, clear sea, in search of past glaciers
Our task required taking a child’s pail,
Filling with sand and walking to the waters edge
Strain the sand, save shells & dump the remainder,
Momentarily discoloring the blue. green water.
Locals watched, and concluded we were a danger,
Both to the sea, and the small rise
Where the sand had resided.
We were undermining the mountain
They demanded possession of shovel, strainer and pail.
We could be terrorists,
Bent on destroying Mount Olympus
Along with the entire Mediterranean.
We had to be stopped.
Take my pail? Not likely.
I loved my pail.
No, I would fight to retain it,
Until the neighboring Neanderthals
produced palm sized throwing rocks.
Welcome to 25,000 BC.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Helping
Most concern themselves with fairness,
Some with responsibility,
Others remain indifferent
Fewer still, offer help.
Fairness, the cry of the poor,
And the demand of the rich,
Rends faux arguments,
And asks for equivalents.
“Why me?, or why not me?
Where is the justice in all this?
Must I go without?
My burden is too great”
Countered by comments like,
“--- bootstrapping”, “lazy”
“blood suckers” “dumb”
“taxpayer dollars” played on a clichéd editorial.
Responsibility, home of the righteous,
Looks for the innocent and guilty,
Seeks to assess blame,
And demand redress (If only that were possible).
“It is not my problem” states the indifferent,
Unless the death of a child
In a rat infested apartment,
Intrudes on his reverie.
How rare the helper
Sharer of food and smiles,
Whose existential calling
Allows a sliver of hope.
Some with responsibility,
Others remain indifferent
Fewer still, offer help.
Fairness, the cry of the poor,
And the demand of the rich,
Rends faux arguments,
And asks for equivalents.
“Why me?, or why not me?
Where is the justice in all this?
Must I go without?
My burden is too great”
Countered by comments like,
“--- bootstrapping”, “lazy”
“blood suckers” “dumb”
“taxpayer dollars” played on a clichéd editorial.
Responsibility, home of the righteous,
Looks for the innocent and guilty,
Seeks to assess blame,
And demand redress (If only that were possible).
“It is not my problem” states the indifferent,
Unless the death of a child
In a rat infested apartment,
Intrudes on his reverie.
How rare the helper
Sharer of food and smiles,
Whose existential calling
Allows a sliver of hope.
Lifeline
I can’t take these lines,
Keepin me from my youngest,”
She thought, inching closer
To the window and money.
“Every week the same bullshit
Then the groceries and smokes,
That shitty apartment wit
No AC, no nothing”.
“Scary to get home after dark.
Christ, it’s scary before dark.
And that fuckin elevator,
Smells from piss and shit.”
“When I get to the window,
That sonofabitch clerk, gonna look at me,
Thinkin “get a job”.
Right, if you look after the kids.
“Jesus H. Christ, it’s hard.
My Pete, a good man,
Wouldn’t hurt nobody,
Makes 250 per week.
“They take out the fuckin taxes,
Leaves enough to stay hungry.
Jesus, if I’m not livin my mother’s life.
Runnin hard, goin nowhere”
Keepin me from my youngest,”
She thought, inching closer
To the window and money.
“Every week the same bullshit
Then the groceries and smokes,
That shitty apartment wit
No AC, no nothing”.
“Scary to get home after dark.
Christ, it’s scary before dark.
And that fuckin elevator,
Smells from piss and shit.”
“When I get to the window,
That sonofabitch clerk, gonna look at me,
Thinkin “get a job”.
Right, if you look after the kids.
“Jesus H. Christ, it’s hard.
My Pete, a good man,
Wouldn’t hurt nobody,
Makes 250 per week.
“They take out the fuckin taxes,
Leaves enough to stay hungry.
Jesus, if I’m not livin my mother’s life.
Runnin hard, goin nowhere”
Welfare
Welfare robs the recipients of dignity
Creates a culture of dependency
Wherein these siphons of tax payer money
Can be caste as larger versions of Pavlov’s dog.
With compassion, we must show the poor
The advantages of middle class virtue:
Finding a decent, well paying job,
Having a home in a good neighborhood.
No longer should we tolerate those
Cadillac driving, baby producing sponges
Who force, productive working people
To shoulder an onerous burden.
Enough of these brutes and lay-abouts!
Time for them to recognize the American dream,
To pay back the investments our proud real Americans
Have made to those who pose as victims.
Do these parasites not flood our hospitals
Making it problematic that Americans,
God fearing Americans, can receive
The care they surely deserve?
Towns and cities can no longer
Look past the slums welfare has created.
When will we state our righteous claims
Cleanse the system of these parasites?
With charity and prayer we will assist
Our fallen brothers and sisters.
Put them on a road to maturity and prosperity
So we may join hands and move forward
Creates a culture of dependency
Wherein these siphons of tax payer money
Can be caste as larger versions of Pavlov’s dog.
With compassion, we must show the poor
The advantages of middle class virtue:
Finding a decent, well paying job,
Having a home in a good neighborhood.
No longer should we tolerate those
Cadillac driving, baby producing sponges
Who force, productive working people
To shoulder an onerous burden.
Enough of these brutes and lay-abouts!
Time for them to recognize the American dream,
To pay back the investments our proud real Americans
Have made to those who pose as victims.
Do these parasites not flood our hospitals
Making it problematic that Americans,
God fearing Americans, can receive
The care they surely deserve?
Towns and cities can no longer
Look past the slums welfare has created.
When will we state our righteous claims
Cleanse the system of these parasites?
With charity and prayer we will assist
Our fallen brothers and sisters.
Put them on a road to maturity and prosperity
So we may join hands and move forward
Working on Welfare
“I had a dream,”
That I could help.
30 years later,
The dream I shared with Martin
Has morphed into something else.
I followed that dream out of the ghetto,
Through high school and college
Into the savagery of years spent
Seeking for a way to subdue shame.
Helping brothers and sisters escape
The inexorable, gravitational pull
Down, to where crippled egos
Fought waves of ennui and collapse.
They came demanding alms,
Needing to find sunshine.
We spoke of escape
From the labyrinthine maze.
We might meet on a bench
Adjoining a park engulfed
By giant buildings housing
Caves of the rich.
From the derelict dying bench we could watched
Chauffeured chariots.
Their size bespoke
A need to dominate and hid.
Now I know welfare is a cheap fix,
Waiting for someone really clever,
With an antidote for despair,
Indifference and poverty.
No longer do I sit at my desk,
Or visit the homes of victims.
Now I can surface,
Unburdened of anger and angst .
That I could help.
30 years later,
The dream I shared with Martin
Has morphed into something else.
I followed that dream out of the ghetto,
Through high school and college
Into the savagery of years spent
Seeking for a way to subdue shame.
Helping brothers and sisters escape
The inexorable, gravitational pull
Down, to where crippled egos
Fought waves of ennui and collapse.
They came demanding alms,
Needing to find sunshine.
We spoke of escape
From the labyrinthine maze.
We might meet on a bench
Adjoining a park engulfed
By giant buildings housing
Caves of the rich.
From the derelict dying bench we could watched
Chauffeured chariots.
Their size bespoke
A need to dominate and hid.
Now I know welfare is a cheap fix,
Waiting for someone really clever,
With an antidote for despair,
Indifference and poverty.
No longer do I sit at my desk,
Or visit the homes of victims.
Now I can surface,
Unburdened of anger and angst .
All Praise to Allah
Commissioned by Allah, I am the peacemaker.
I preach of redemption, vengeance & amp; God,
Love of tribe, and eradication of nonbelievers.
Do you fear me? If not, your thinking is clouded.
I do not make guns, only war,
Sadly the only road to peace.
Redemption comes through vengeance.
Many crimes cannot be forgiven.
Poets, builders and thinkers
Did we bring to Spain ---and will again
After we’ve cleansed the people.
Those who understand.
Israel, an abomination, must cease to exist.
Jew lovers must be obliterated.
America must be conquered.
These things I have sworn to Allah.
I believe, all praise to Allah,
I will know the martyrs deliverance,
The peace that transcends peace.
I preach of redemption, vengeance & amp; God,
Love of tribe, and eradication of nonbelievers.
Do you fear me? If not, your thinking is clouded.
I do not make guns, only war,
Sadly the only road to peace.
Redemption comes through vengeance.
Many crimes cannot be forgiven.
Poets, builders and thinkers
Did we bring to Spain ---and will again
After we’ve cleansed the people.
Those who understand.
Israel, an abomination, must cease to exist.
Jew lovers must be obliterated.
America must be conquered.
These things I have sworn to Allah.
I believe, all praise to Allah,
I will know the martyrs deliverance,
The peace that transcends peace.
Auction
Only 5 bidders on the courthouse steps,
It would be over quickly.
Lenders had lost patience with homeowners
Leaving bottom feeders to scavenge the remains.
Loans made in a surging market
Were no longer sound.
Potential buyers are hesitant,
Prices are falling.
People who became rich 2 years ago
Now faced foreclosures.
Speculators fall first,
Followed by more sympathetic souls.
Borrowing for retirement, fast cars
And college tuition,
Collided with the domino theory
Equaled disaster for many.
“I can’t buy your house
If I can’t sell mine,” they lament.
Gloom, spread by vultures,
Facilitates the accelerating decline
The auctioneer, disabused of dreams long ago,
Moves quickly, going through his list,
Without pause.
This is simply business.
Addresses viewed with detachment,
Numbers on a computer page,
No children dispossessed along with their parents.
No need to reflect on the victims
It would be over quickly.
Lenders had lost patience with homeowners
Leaving bottom feeders to scavenge the remains.
Loans made in a surging market
Were no longer sound.
Potential buyers are hesitant,
Prices are falling.
People who became rich 2 years ago
Now faced foreclosures.
Speculators fall first,
Followed by more sympathetic souls.
Borrowing for retirement, fast cars
And college tuition,
Collided with the domino theory
Equaled disaster for many.
“I can’t buy your house
If I can’t sell mine,” they lament.
Gloom, spread by vultures,
Facilitates the accelerating decline
The auctioneer, disabused of dreams long ago,
Moves quickly, going through his list,
Without pause.
This is simply business.
Addresses viewed with detachment,
Numbers on a computer page,
No children dispossessed along with their parents.
No need to reflect on the victims
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