Monday, May 13, 2019

How Butterflies are Made

First there is a pupae
in the depth of its potential
inherently beautiful
yet eminently vulnerable
to vagarous corruption.

Upon reflective rapture, in spring,
Narcissus longingly swooned
at a watery illusion of self,
vaguely represented in a fleeting
reproduction of reality.

Down the runway, the model commanded
her audience with an apery of conviction
while secretly starving for esteem
from this shallow self, easily strangled
by powder, elixir and depravation.

Longing for approval from a father
who had never seen the boy,
nor the man, through his own insecurity,
his orphan soul curled validation
with stretching sinew and plumping muscle.

Foundations in perception
substitute for sterner principle
where scavengers desperately feed
on flitting, wispy, wild-eyed dreams
and no blueprint for action.

Eschew the misleading mirror
and look more deeply, in practice,
for a reason to love your purpose
and pursue the production
of value within and without.

Self is something more solid
than the silvery shower of saliva-slime laden,
derogatory invective, thoughtlessly hurled
at the productive, with bratty conviction
and blind jealousy by glittery slugs.

Beauty is on the surface a look,
but more deeply a way,
which metamorphosizes
in a chrysalis of confidence
to emerge as a butterfly.


Saturday, March 16, 2019

reflection on the passing of W.S. Merwin

even as melancholy swoons
within lines of sacred elegy
this poet a man whose influence 
showed me how to listen to my own 
voice through his shall be missed

Sunday, March 10, 2019

But Smile

You are very smart aren't you
And very proud of your intelligence
You wear it like a mask,
But smile, I see through your mask
To the sniveling insecurity
Of your scornful soul.

Some of the others may be fooled
By your self-righteous dog and pony
With the floppy shoes and
The big red honking nose as you
Feed me your disdain by spoonfuls -
But I am immune. Bless your heart,

As I once heard it said, lest some
Part of it survive the rot that is
Your brain, after the maggots
Complete their scavenge, I assume
Was meant in polite company.

This malice you serve is petulant,
So portions of service I return,
But I have known more maligned
And stared directly into bleaker eyes
Cold and dark and thoughtlessly mean,
So say what you must, But smile
As I do, amused by naivete.

Sunday, January 27, 2019

Apprentice in Verse

with respect and reverie
sincerity in vaunted regard
eyes scanning the published pages
of cherished editions from
the featured bookshelf in my
living room and my voice
volunteered in homage to give
tempo and resonance to the exercise
reciting out loud the word patterns
established through the skillful
discipline of their observations

recitations judgments and valuations
scribed for posterity and offered
up to the foggy and precise
alike kept indefinitely shelved
at the congressional library numbered
and collecting dust while in
bookstores amusing teenagers
with designs on seeming erudite

if only fleetingly who then
exit the places where books live
and enter the spaces of animals
men and things known and
unknowable armed only with
mimicry and those still sharpening
implements of intellect those

originally mentioned emotional assessments
that persistent hunger to explain
the world to one’s self and record it
share those findings and emerge
perhaps a shade wiser
for the journey every bit
as much as the destination

but first let us herald
those masters who paved the way
traveled evermore haltingly
by each erstwhile and eager
apprentice in verse
so that standing upon the shoulders
of giants we might feel

momentarily like giants ourselves
and then if Fate might
shine her narrow beam
some fortunate few souls
touched by grace may dare
indeed to live the dream

making Eros jealous of Hermes
baton in hand passing proxy
a sliver of ageless ancient
wisdom along the conveyor belt
of history with the
ceaseless arrow of infinity

before bowing out to the
newly foolish genuflectors
at his stupefyingly
incongruous altar

psshaw as if

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R93UKMFQm58

Sunday, January 20, 2019

One Night Stand

Well, well, well, well
Well, well, well, well
What am I gonna do about you?

You come into my life
               Like a thief in the night
I can’t believe my eyes
               My lord what a sight
You sashay across my room
               Like a fashion revue
My chest starts to pound
               What am I to do?

You put me under your spell
               With your sultry charms
Make me feel like a beggar
               Grasping you in my arms
I know this can’t last forever
               Even before it starts
Because you’re that kind of woman
               Who will break my heart

Well, well, well, well
Well, well, well, well
What am I gonna do about you?

I cannot walk away
               And I will not run
I’m out of control
               And under your thumb
Before you slip out of my life
               Without making a sound
Let’s enjoy this moment
               As we roll around

You came for my body
               You teased my soul
I’m kissing you softly
               Like waves on a shoal
There’s a pearl in the oyster
               Deep under sea
But the prize is our love
               So stay with me

Well, well, well, well
Well, well, well, well
What am I gonna do about you?

In the Echo Chamber

In the echo chamber
Every man can hear himself,
But no one can hear
Most anybody else.
What is fair and balanced
In the eye of the beholder
Once seemed so obvious,
But shifts as I get older.
Entrenched and intractable
Just doesn’t seem so practical.
Some clutch confirmation bias,
Though mutability is more tactical.
Sometimes you’ll need to squint
When you’re browsing through,
Because the issues as they’re stated
Are not the story true.
It’s all about the messaging
For those they claim to serve,
But if you discover their real motives
You’ll be aghast they have the nerve.
“Read between the lines,”
That’s what my father said.
You’ve got to vet your sources
And curate ideas inside your head.
Critical thinking isn’t always easy,
And integrity can seem like a chore.
There are liars in light and shadows,
Meal worms and maggots scour the floor.
These times may seem uncertain
When we don’t know who to trust,
So we seek out peace of mind
Because we know that we must.
There must be some place of certainty,
Some place beyond the fear,
Where rhetoric is not so cloudy
And veracity rings clear.
So you shout out to the webbed world
“Please relieve my worrisome distress!”
Then return a cacophony of voices
All clamoring to impress.
Who will you believe
As you judge from preconception;
Those who already share your opinion,
Or those who challenge your perception?
Do your principles pass muster
Is the quest that you must mount.
Only when you prove how you know
Will what you know truly count.
Emotion is no foundation
Though it provides guidance of a kind.
Reason is the true progenitor
Of a thoughtful, justly mind.
In the echo chamber
Where reason lays to rest,
Dare to bang the walls
And rouse your slumbering guest.
If you want to trust your mind
And drown the din of strife,
The truth will set you free.
That’s and imperative for life.

If Your Soul is Restless

If your soul is restless
Come spend the night
If your soul is restless
Don’t put up a fight
Let your hair fall down
And baby, shut the light

Right now we’re going hungry
And our prospects aren’t too fare
There’s nothing in the cupboard
And the fridge is also bare
But we’ve still got each other
So darling I don’t care

Just wrap yourself around me
And we’ll vamp beneath the sheets
Just wrap yourself around me
And we’ll share our body heat
We’ll be working up a lather
Then rinse and repeat

Your love is a wild thing
With both hard and dulcet tones
Your love is a wild thing
It howls and it moans
And that’s the only thing I want
To have and call my own