I think. Therefore, I am confused. Fill your eyes, ears and mind with thoughts, rantings, historical references, stories, quotes and music. Read. Absorb. Learn. Grow. It's a daily experience. Learning concepts, ideas, and principles that make meaning in your life, is a spiritual quest. Wasting time on senseless crap like useless social media postings, stupid video postings and other mindless crap wastes your time, your mind and your soul. Enrich yourselves with all the world has to offer to make you a better person and make our communities better, safer places.
These original poems reflect my many years from the emo teen, twenty-something sexual exploration and identification, Marxist rebellion, lost love, parenthood, aging without grace, pre-mid life crisis, post-mid life crisis, and my coming death. Nothing wrong with emotional, mental, sexual, and spiritual upheavals. We are put into situations that make us think deeply. It is that thinking that brings on our depression, at times, our mental instability but also our artistic purges. I think, therefore, I am utterly confused.
Buried Alive
1983
Entasis
masks the frail mind.
Rage
vitrifies the ideas.
Sharp and clear,
in his thoughts
he disappears.
Cities
1983
Six cities.
One sin.
Dynamically decomposed.
These streets
our streets.
where the wolves meet.
Ready for the hunt
beer and blunts,
getting pumped
like dumb ass chumps.
Standing among debris
blowing from the alley
to the curb,
young ones invade
from the suburbs.
Parents drop them off
far from home
to disrupt the city hoods
while they get stoned.
They pass the hours
into the wee night
in the Dunkin lot
starting fights.
Parents return to get the hordes
after the kids are all bored.
Time to return to the safety
of your big homes,
with lush green lawns
and good schools.
When Friday returns
you will escape the boredom
to wreck havoc
in our grimy neighborhood.
Four in Nine
1995
In the land of gods
and wailing voices,
brought down the walls
of Jericho.
He can find
no silver lining.
Everywhere he sees
hopelessness and fear.
It's six a.m.
and the Number 18 burns.
It's six a.m.!
In the land of gods
and wailing voices,
brought forth by the prophets
of Judea.
He can find
no silver lining.
Everywhere he sees
blood and tears.
It's six a.m.
and the Number 18 burns.
It's six a.m.!
In the land of gods
and wailing voices,
brought down by the guns
of Jerusalem.
He can find
no silver lining.
Everywhere he sees
pain and despair.
It's six a.m.
and the Number 18 burns.
It's six a.m.!
Date Night
February 2024
I relive
the night
over and over and over again.
I felt
so angry, so tense
so filled with a sense
of loss.
Then you held my hand
and it all went away.
We sat and watched the show
from the balcony above.
The whole time I felt
a longing for love.
I cried.
You hugged.
I never wanted to let you go.
The music,
your touches
freed my soul.
On the drive home,
the deejay played my dedication
calling our names.
I felt no shame
in announcing my love for you
over the airwaves.
My Only Love
We ended in painful tears,
holding each other.
I would do it again
because there is no other
but you.
My Only Love
Last Meal
1998
I must pay my dues and wonder
while left behind bars of steel
what shall I have for my last meal.
You call this justice
when you seek revenge
sticking me with a syringe.
Give me
yak stew,
papyrus salad
and a polar ice cap brew.
Give me
monkey tongue
in boiled dragon blood
topped in broiled dung.
Give me
mammoth steak
cream of rhino husk,
centipede legs deep baked.
Give me
mash leopard claws,
plankton soup
with fried macaws.
Take away my appeals.
Throw away the key.
Never want me to be set free.
A new prison nation
with a super max solution,
mocks the consitution.
Rotting on death row
while you get tough on crime.
Latest polls show you shine!
Give me
steamed spiced mandrill,
chocolate magpie,
and pickled porcupine quill.
Give me
my last meal.
I am in no hurry,
got no more cards left to deal.
The Other Shoe
1998
I could be old.
I could be young.
It's a frame of mind.
I could be hated.
I could be liked.
It's a way of life.
You could be green.
You could be purple.
It's a shallow thing.
You could hate tomatoes.
You could love ketchup.
It's a personal choice.
I could be you.
You could be me.
Let's try the other shoe.
I could like you.
You could like me.
Try the other shoe.
We do not have to agree,
perhaps just listen
to understand to some degree.
There is always
always there is,
a way for everyone.
A special thanx to many high school teachers in my youth. Ms. Soelter encouraged us to find ourselves in the written and spoken word. She inspired me to write, to think deeply about the mysteries of life, death, spirituality and the universe. Mr. Kulieke, showed me an appreciation for science and how the universe and nature work in harmony. Ms. Maslow, amazed me with the beauty of numbers and mathematics. All these enriched my soul, made me think, gave me reason to question and led to many years of therapy. Still, I search for meaning, answers and purpose in the final stage of my life.
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