Voices and posturings in these original poems are often not autobiographical, but fictional characters speaking…
Copyright 2022 nowdy.
MERELY
unfashionable to death
of the tide of the take
from the power doctor
instead his weak will
sacrificing and giving
merely for the joy of it
a will to powerlessness
and gratitude and hope
which merely falls asleep
to wake with no surprise
where accusatory illusions
killed in awe and humility
we remember the days
of his long wanderings
and homeless patience
without the push or prod
without the grab and gain
without the cruel brutality
missing him is growing
and his flowers opening
in spite of the gray skies
_______________
BULLY
ashamed of something
and particularly some thing
but i bet you wouldnt want
to be known anywhere
exclusively by the worst
thing youve ever done
so you get me im sure
when suggesting be careful
at selfrighteous bullying
that it might take years
or decades for you to recover
from the blood on your hands
most are born with propensities
toward putting another down
to feel superior and a tiny bit
better than the bullied one
and often realizing too late
ones own soul is dripping
_______________
MAMMON
jamie had a grandmother
who was ridiculed in the 70s
for being a nonworking bum
for living off her husband
with barefeet or houseshoes
and bonbon soapoperas
her grandmother fought
but never won with them
and watched their selfishness
morph into careerworship
and mammonworship
and spoiled grandchildren
who swear to the little god
they could never believe in
that theyd never bring a child
into this horrible evil world
this horrible evil world
run by spoiled grandchildren
_______________
BERGMAN
black and white bergman
took us down down the path
double down till crumpled over
head turned and ear to dirt
listening for the rumble of hoofs
or wheels or nothingness afar
as the skies were mere side sight
peripheral to the anticipated dust
here it comes like the sound near
a cloud to cover the bodies
of what contained our soulless
minds going nowhere for no reason
________________
FLOATS
it is not like yesterday
nor is it like forever
it’s just complicated
how that day floats
floats in this tiny room
where i smell the metal
and the ink and the musty
scent of a 40’s typewriter
the typewriter my mother
used in college for her
first degree which was
in homemaking and entertaining
entertaining included generals
and presidents but also cooking
on the tiniest budget imaginable
and still eating healthily
healthily clean and proper
on her first job with dress and heels
knocking on the doors of welfare
recipients while the other watched the door
the door in the back and if a man
ran out the recipient would lose
her welfare and how my mother
once walked in and was invited
invited to sit on the couch with hens
after the recipient shewed them away
and my mother gracefully sat down
knowing it would soil her new dress
dress she never got the stain out of
but it proved to me my mother cared
about the feelings of the recipients
of welfare and hated to offend
offend she did not do for kindness
moved through her years of birthing
me and sister and substitute teaching
and her master’s degree in counseling
counseling the addicted and abused
and also caring about their feelings
but not to much to lie about the obvious
truth the lies got em into the mess
mess like broken trust and marriages
and children who would hate them
for a while and eventually not so much
and watching my mother get divorced
divorced and depressed by example
and how i was with her near the end
after her third stroke and her tapping
foot to okie from muskogee until
until the reference to moonshine
and she scrunched her face to say
to me in her witty way to never
never drink since i was ten years sober
sober from escaping too and watching
her catch back up tapping her toe
and fully convinced that heaven
would have some oklahoma waiting for her
_______________
SUMMIT
he being bored and lonely
escaped to the mountains
to climb to conquer to kiss
but reaching the summits
of each he held back tears
fully meant to direct him
instead he sought higher
and higher so went further
and further from personhood
he found nothingness above
looking down at nothingness
for things are things are things
the speck that he was we saw
up in the snow with binoculars
he never waved not once
_______________
MEAL
theres a room for you
with a voice calm and
collected and yet its
responding to you
in such a unique way
you dont apologize
or feel the need to
and in that room for you
is a meal saying i noticed
or i remembered or happy
birthday super early or late
or perhaps youre choked up
and have to wait but its okay
for in that room for you
you are sad from the past
when you wondered why
a time limit cut you off
when others body language
spoke just like clockwork
perhaps you can forget
because things are better
and hindsight is an enhancer
exclusively for the gratitude
and perhaps comparison
makes it greater still
_________________
SMOKE ROOM
workers sitting quietly
factory dirty and too tired
to notice stray ashes
floating like feathers
after careful flicking
the vast majority in trays
stray flakes independent
and nonconforming
sometimes out of ignorance
of being new and unfamiliar
of the terrain or custom
or faux pas of breakrooms
charlie speaks and steve
sings and amy dances
as the fan blows them
across the dark room
into a cluster of sand
and clods of dry mud
when the bell rings
they will not move
not be noticed for days
until someone brooms
them into their open grave
with others just like them
________________
DANIEL
daniel hates like atheists
hate god but its evolution
with its promises of better
and other such opioids
which calm the ignorant
daniel sees the children
so much healthier most say
but glued to glass screens
and with lonely desperate
boredom in their cocked armpits
daniel smells more death
last century from evolution
and the fittest like wasps
stinging tens of thousands
civilians and flying away
daniel hates haters who
claim he’s the only hater
and the offended who
always assume theyre
on the right side of history
daniel leaves his house
with ancient ideas of life
having meaning and purpose
regardless of productivity
which scares him for jason
jason enters the house
with help and restroom
with help and cant speak
to say please dont kill me
but daniel suspects his end
daniel is content finally
because hes heading home
tomorrow without a suitcase
and he will be proven
right or wrong within minutes
______________
DEEP
deep are the words the colors
the sounds from the feelers
those few who felt everything
we hadnt yet from inside
and outside and beyond
deep is the transference
the transcendence felt now
by those who slowdown
and feel now from windowpanes
and wet streets and breakrooms
deep beneath the places we dwell
and work and play and vacation
to the last feelings communicated
from a battlefield or hospice bed
or gravestone or our first memory
we are today often losing ourselves
in glitter and honking horns or mufflers
or strobelights or likes or pleasantries
or papermoney or claps or trophies
that we miss our deep predecessors
once a river stopped and we watched
and listened and astonished we cried
to see the bottom of mud with tiny fish
flapping flapping flapping in the sun
waving final goodbyes with their bodies
________________
WEEPING WILLOW
I was the only one
who asked where the joy had gone
and knowing it could return my
in one simple gesture,
I stepped through the threshold
and left the politics in the burning house
and instantly watched my black&white movie
morph into color before my very eyes
and let’s say you were there
before me in your bright flowered dress
with the bluest sky and mountain range
behind you and I forgot how to say hello
and you leaned-in to whisper
and it all came-back-to-me
but I felt no need to say the new obvious
and you took my hand and guided me
to the willow and broke a switch off
and tied a bow in it after removing the leaves
and I couldn’t even remember sitting down
with you but there we were and suddenly
our faces were eye level to the ground
and waving our flattened hands
midair the few inches between
the ground and tips
of the dozens of hanging limbs
and laughing for no reason
except that neither of us
had ever noticed that our whole lives
before that moment.
CLARA’S DREAM
Perhaps drifting to sleep
I happened to notice
the car veering to the right
but instead of compensating,
I happened to go-for-it,
with an even harder right
till I was upside-down, rightside-up,
for a few times and landing
outside the windshield in the pond,
I swam to the surface and then to shore
and sat on a large rock
and rested with a confidence
unexplainable except to say
I felt a love of life unknown before.
FORCE TO BELIEVE
It just happened, I was told,
and I was nearly forced to believe
on the authority of scholars
and media and branches of government
and I mean ‘nearly forced’’ because
it took a few minutes of reflection
to realize I had a choice
and authenticity required more than
succumbing to peer pressure
and threats of torture
against my natural desire
for security and significance,
since no creature of power
can compete with a creator.
ONE’S OWN HERO
What’s the point in living
if you don’t live anywhere
not even one time
and what’s the point of dying
if in a dream you attend
your own wedding
and you are both
the bride and groom
or preacher and singer
or florist and janitor,
simply put,
put-out from never getting
to rest from your labors
and what’s the point
of being your own hero
if you are the only admirer
on the last island
with paper and no pen
or an uncharged smart phone
or a case of empty water bottles
surrounded by the most beautiful
ocean one could imagine?
_______________
SALVADOR DALI
Aimee awoke shouting prophetically,
It will absolutely happen tomorrow
Just as the movie said it would
Except the clouds won’t be clouds
And the bicycle won’t be the bicycle
And the box with clothes laid out
And the ants from the holey hand
And the grabbing and squeezing
And the woman’s unshaved underarm
And the grand piano and cow heads
And priests all tied and pulled, all of it
Won’t be as it will appear but exactly,
Exactly like the movie is saying it will.
And when Aimee finished, I asked
If she needed a hug but instead,
From the sand, we posed goodbyes.
___________
THE CLOWN
the unedited poem
is hiding and ashamed
waiting for forever’s rescue
waiting four minutes or
until the clown appears
colors are that way
catching corners of the eye
regardless if the blue or green or
brown should be reserved
exclusively for the iris of the soul
but the clown is still a clown
with or without make-up
self-deprecating moves
of flash played humbly or
clueless during a political
season of promises and hype
like the pregnant asked
how pregnant she is
or guitars without strings or
who’s on first at the art gallery
________________
DAYS
it is obvious about the stars
how we name them claim them
as our own with our own names
and we never claim the days
with what now eight billion people
and not enough days for each
we can see the stars feel them
i suppose some would say
but not me i feel the days
and now forced for conscience
sake to go back in time and think
hard of which day has my name
_______________
EINSTEIN
love is unknown to me
in the ontological sense
if pushed to answer
not love of family or friend
or god or thing or idea
or music or art or hobby
but love by spousal mates
though i tried i failed miserably
and thus i might be einstein
but the real heroes are flying
above us in space risking life
so ignore my marital advice
other than maybe this my friend
to love her more than the bottle
or work or status or comfort
_______________
TIME
time has a way with words
edging us on to discontentment
if i only was older or younger
or whatever or whenever
and it’s no use fighting back
cause he always gets the prize
wins the argument and lays
us out flat in his due time
_______________
PROCESS
there was a cave i created
in my minds eye when eight
and standing beside her
at the state park’s lake
we would swim to the bottom
of the inlet beyond the tents
and campfires and swim up
under everyone and breathe
and it ended because nothing
else was needed whatsoever
not a treasure chest or tea party
because only the process mattered
_______________
CHORD
em7b5 is the jazz chord
just before f major the root
and i always played it
on my guitar with the four
middle strings and muffling
the upper and lower two
but it never seemed correct
because muffling seemed
like cheating and cheating
seemed inauthentic and
even though the untrained ear
wouldn’t notice i did
_______________
FRIDAY
who doesnt appreciate friday
at five pm when work is done
is probably heading home
to what is really not a home
but a place worse than work
and yet theres no pay for it
which to me starting my car
makes me both sad and grateful
_______________
EXCUSE
the only justifiable
excuse would
seem to be
the excuse
for making
the excuse
_______________
DOOR
door you block me
with brazen harsh authority
though thin shallow
and flimsy to the tree
you once were long ago
which insiders say is dead
not killed by saw or ax
but by flesh and blood
and now you block me
with no humility whatsoever
but i know your true status
not higher than a wooden toy
so your claimed autonomy
and rulemaking are frail
for we screwed you to hinges
by voting you temporary power
and we who venture outside
see a tree which you never will
_______________
QUIET AND WE CAN HEAR
quiet and we can hear
the crickets and rainfall
never quite together
in one whole rhythmic song
ignoring the other
literally tuned out
as if the other dead
and if we are quiet
i mean really silent
we could see us in it
the legs and the water
the violins and drums
and if the reader now
will stop and consider
this is all about you
and I and not lovers
we can weep if inclined
but I doubt it for both
we adore our genres
till our night is eaten
by the dry sober sun
_______________
WE ARE BIT AND BRIDLE
we are bit and bridle
to the horse’ned earth
yanking it, kicking it
closer to the cliffs
but soon rain and night
and false forgetfulness
will not be hidden
from the campfire
and half-sleeping horses
because our cowboy songs
have layers to be revealed
mostly about our first fire where,
as children, little bratty pyros,
we lit whittled sticks
and waved the smoke
into the night like cursive
words we had yet to learn to read
_______________
THE DOOR OPENED FOR THE WORKER
the door opened for the worker
and he entered willingly but boldly
as if a fist was about to be created
and the desk was going to be pounded
the boards were ready as were the nails
and the hammer lifted and aimed
but missed everything but his knee
which bounced in a sarcastic laughter
it was the first time we watched one
walk to the time clock and punch-out
within the first hour of the day and
that’s why it was worthy to be a poem
_______________
THIS BOAT SAILED ACROSS THE SEA
this boat sailed across the sea
and you said it was incredible
and i said you were right
but the sea was not its friend
and the boat hated the sea
though they both are forgiving
then we pointed simultaneously
at the seagull overhead diving
the swimming fish are food,
we noticed, as she arose
sometimes people help too much
and hold dead fish to the sky
and sometimes air and water tell
two stories at the same time
_______________
DO YOU REMEMBER JIMMY
do you remember jimmy
skinning the mouse and
sewing it into a glove
for one single finger
i cried and you called me
weak and i never forgot,
so asking, you apologized
when fifty years had passed
you know why i cried
but fifty years is a long time
a very very long time
and jimmy is still alive
_______________
THE PICTURE I SEE IS BEAUTIFUL
the picture i see is beautiful
yet you are unfocused often
enough for a reassessment
we tried to agree on curtains
for the prisoners though
they escaped with promises
now we are fishing sideways
casting like those who flyfish
with our waists in weighters
tomorrow i will bring my glasses
and you will be well enough
to be appreciated in the river
_______________
THE GREAT REDFINITIONS HAUNT SOME
the great redefinitions haunt some
like monsters as they wait in silence
for the hand on the shoulder
and the required turning to look
which exposes the revealed
expressions which we fear
mine is the longing for more
than life offers in this life
yours could be the superiority
above my inferiority with words
but regardless we must turn-in
our lent keys every night and hope
_______________
BELLS RING FROM THE SQUARE
bells ring from the square
music in another language
streetlights above feral cats
running slow enough to be hit
i could be more than my name
but chose to walk and wonder
as scrutiny from the past
sheds it’s light on what was
but not what is now now now
and yet wait and see and you’ll see
if i speak of a winter’s coat shed
and gentle are my new name
_______________
HOW I WONDER CAN BOTH BE TRUE
how i wonder can both be true
the one issue which matters
so much to me politically
above all else
and is the litmus test
but at the same time not care
or feel responsible to change minds
_______________
THERE ARE SURELY REASONS BEYOND
there are surely reasons beyond
what my mind has conceived
thus far and yet alone i sit
with nothing that seems probable
as an explanation nor do I sit well
with the ambivalence stinking the room
to high heavens and leaving me alone
in my rollercoaster seat of emotions
knowing that it might not go well for me
people are counting on me this time
and do you think i have time for this
do you really predict my decades
when days could be and time ticking
do you remember my heart attack
almost a decade ago and me dying
and coming back and yelling what
as a question when my heart
was not beating per the doctor
i seem to recall what i don’t recall
is perhaps your wish for my recollection
but instead i am working on the letter
which you are saying i must present
and you will grade it to determine
my status in acceptability and love
but my sadness is not for me as for you
and your suffering and confusion
today as it is still called today
_______________
FOR MANY MOONS I HAVE LOOKED
for many moons i have looked
for you knowing its a means to an end
knowing that for it to be an end
is the worse ending of a destroyed movie
to fall in love with self & the end
so sad sad it would be this island
discovered & loved & worshiped
mirror kissing madness
_______________
TEN DAYS TEN DAYS TEN DAYS
ten days ten days ten days
as if in my mind on repeat
& now its here surrounding me
dancing & singing & splashing
night melting into it & im sobbing
cause for miles no one is around
for me to embarrassment
day two still putting it off
day three will i stop really stop
thats tomorrow & four decades
is a long freaking time to smoke
& suddenly pass back the peace pipe
with honest intentions to not take back
& my bare feet are tanning on top
as the trees give but a glimmer of fall
wind blowing outside potted plants
horizontal & eight are fallen
& cant get up come help me
but i will be as yall are soon
trying to grow gracefully
waiting for the sun to rise again
_______________
THE CREATURE FOLLOWS US
the creature follows us
being of night & growling
over our head & looming
under our feet & rumbling
she shifts secretly soiling
bringing bats beyond boiling
all & all & all that she was
to become the fed & feeder
the bed & breakfast breeder
the pot & potter pleaser
she said she said signing
hands hand
_______________
NOT BELIEVING IT WAS ME
not believing it was me
my car hit two animals
within twenty-four hours,
an already limping dog
on a four lane in the dark,
and a slow armadillo
on a country curve at dawn
and though i eventually
confessed the truth to myself,
that i was the one driving,
i felt more miserable
shameful and psychopathic
than in over a decade
for both my lie and feelings
proved their priority
over the pain of the ones
i so accidently hit
and if it said I was below the speed limit
_______________
JODY SAW ME WRITING A LONG POEM
Jody saw me writing a long poem
in the coffeehouse, again, but this time
he gave me an opinion’s earful.
Said I should write about the homeless
who come to small-towns from big-towns.
He meant ours. There’s Samantha who
I knew who he meant, but I didn’t, really.
He went into detail: names, stories and…
opinions. His. I had nothing, especially
not opinions safe enough to publish.
Jody said to write about Samatha
who yells at people as she walks
the middle line of the street,
how she’s not allowed in more than
half of the stores on the square
and was arrested seven times last year.
He said she had the attention of a family
visiting and she forgot and let go and
right when she was waving her arms
her pants fell to her ankles and nothing
but a…and Jody stopped and told, instead, the parents reaction. The mom
spun the kids in a 180 and the dad took
his belt off and gave it to Samatha.
He showed me a picture of her smiling
and I recognized her. And then there
we’re five men in rapid order. Each had a common name. Each he said were scammers and I stopped him, saying clearly I wouldn’t dare write that.
_______________
HERE, THE LAST MINUTE OF LEAP YEAR
Here, the last minute of leap year,
Is a bizarre time and place to start,
Yet one ontologically appropriate for
Those who hear green mice in the attic and
Free thought beside correction officers
Who’s keys make them lean sideways and
Freedom of belief and expression and laughs
Below the executioners scaffolding-stare
Of nietzschean control dreamscapes
Yes, appropriate because I am leaping
Across creeks and rivers and oceans and
Even galaxies and modes of non-being
Beyond thought and feeling and doing
To the objective relation we try to deny
Namely, that I am not my own,
Haven’t nor am creating myself and
Yet am also not alone, never alone
Lies thru airwaves and screens and
Any new method or old method can not
Fool me to believe that I am alone
Fool me to attach prematurity to substitutes
No, I will, perhaps but not for fear
Of being alone but to overflow
As a cup already filled, fulfilled, overflowing.
_______________
LAST NIGHT I DREAMT
Last night I dreamt
Of a contest it seemed
But it was it an interrogation
Where each poem flinched
When poked and prodded
Blood was in the laboratory sink
And white lab coats being removed
The time clock was punched
The backdoor was locked
After the lights flicked-off
The poems hiding in the back
Of each of their cages cried
In unison they wailed for release
Some cried for maternity’s memory
While others for modernity’s gloved hands
Anything was better than being alone
Within the cold cold cages of abandonment
Night moved into night and shed darkness
All over the drying floor and gray walls
No one sang or moved for hours
While the clock ticked and ticked and ticked.
_______________
WHO CAN HEAR HIS PAIN
Who can hear his pain
Between the walls of misery
To stay is pain
To leave is pain
And nothing distinguishes light
From darkness when the tiger
Is silently prowling and he knows it
Is but time he receives as reward
___________________
WE STARTED A NEW LIFE
We started a new life
Crossing the line
The three of us forgot the past
Repressed it, the mean accuse
Buried it, the gentler say
It was dead, we watched it die
Crying out in pain but no use
And we vowed to not let
The past identify or rule us
___________________
DEEP IN THESE WOODS I SEE
Deep in these woods I see
friends I have known
in moss or limbs or leaves
their faces and bodies
saying something to everyone
as they sleep or work or play.
But, in my dream they awake
with more extravagant personalities
than I remembered coming out of them
and I say, chill, but it does no good.
___________________
THERE IS LESS TIME
There is less time,
This time, she said
And the bird overhead
Intentionally sang a song
Neither recognized
As if to say
We can not look backwards
So not to be rude
In appearance or reality
We looked upward in gratitude
But the bird did not look downward
Probably because it did not sing
For us but for the moment present
And also without pretense of applause
The sun rose and fell
And in pitch black
We fed the birch
Until it reached the bird
_________________
OWING MY LIFE TO ANOTHER
Owing my life to another
Because he saved me
From falling to my death
Dangling above unforgiving
Concrete arm-in-arm hanging
As if one extension of the same
Is not a burden or a slavery
But gratitudinal acquiescence
And if I wait for it I sense
More not less admirable honor
Voices and posturings in these original poems are often not autobiographical, but fictional characters speaking…
Copyright 2022 nowdy.com