I had a verbal duel this morning
getting the kid out of his bed.
“Dad, you’re such a Giant Dick!”,
were the words he said.
He challenged me in his anger,
“Make a rhyme with that, dickhead!”
I thought a moment about my reply,
wondering where this morning led.
“They do not rhyme that much is true,
But poetry is more than that.
Consonance and meter are but a few
and I suspect that’s where it’s at.”
“No, son, Dad and Dick don’t rhyme,
but they do exhibit consonance
And they even become synonymous
when meeting sleepy Ass-son-once!”
At this point I fled the room
with my son not far behind
vowing to inflict my doom!
“Good Morning, Son! Rise and Shine!”
I stepped out, this Autumn morn
to greet a glorious day.
Trees in coats of many colors
splendid in their way.
Glancing up, I gazed upon
a dome of perfect blue,
not a single blemish there.
A most rare sight, I knew.
Not Cirrus, Stratus, Cumulus, Nimbus,
not even contrail to behold.
Nothing to disrupt that blue,
Luminous, yet cold.
I felt this flutter in my gut,
a curious sense of growing dread.
What could it be, this odd unease,
that’s building in my head?
It struck me then, just like a fist,
the source of this disquiet!
When last I saw a sky this clear,
unblemished, pure, and even,
were in those first few wretched days
just after 9-11.
We slid into them
Again last night, those old and
Battered, worn out shoes.
Slipped them on and in we
Tumbled, battle once again.
Nothing new. Same old retread.
There must be secret woman jujitsu
A form of linguistic aikido.
It makes us do what they want us to
And often we don’t even know
That some mystic blow was struck
Until we’re doing what we wouldn’t do!
Some guys seem to have all the luck,
A kind of mental immunity,
That lets them seem not to give a fuck
And act with apparent impunity!
Or perhaps there was a vaccine found
And given out to them, but not to me!
A twist of thought, a bend of mind,
And my own desires, I can not find!
After ten years dry,
Deceiver says, “Just try one.”
Ego says, “Why not?”
Honor cries, “Oh no you don’t!”
Ego listens one more day.
All’s well, until tomorrow.
A perfect world, we
may not have or even can
conceive, but work to
build a better one is not
wasted nor naive.
It is a task both great and
noble, or so I believe.
Today we pay the butcher’s bill
for what Deceiver names
a moment’s indiscretion.
But Honor takes the higher ground
and speaks harsh truth to Ego,
fixing his attention.
For Honor knows Deceiver’s ways
And how he plays to Ego’s
hope for recognition.
And truth be told, the event, we know
was part of ancient pattern not
bred in isolation.
Grok the message we’re receiving?
It doesn’t bear repeating!
A never ending
journey loses its luster
long before the day
the eternal nature of
the trek becomes apparent.
~ ~ ~ ~
Trying to step off
of the moving carossel
bears inherent risk
that may exceed, and by far,
any price that can be paid.
The struggle goes on
As I continue to seek
A new path to peace.
“Now don’t be hasty” to surrender
To some great, ethereal “Will”.
You have tools, and strength, and wit,
Intellect, and other skills.
Use these first, to solve your problems
Like your parents taught you to.
Go to “Will” when there’s no answer,
Dare I say it? A Kobayashi Maru?
“Thy will be done” is not the answer
To every situation faced.
We have free will and we must use it
To surrender that, is pure disgrace.
As in all things, there is a season,
Time for every purpose under heaven.
What can I say when people ask
About the nature of her “Feast”,
When I don’t know If she served him
What some may call “The Full Buffet”.
She sure did feed his Giant Ego!
Of this I’m sure, at the very least.
In the end it doesn’t matter
What people ask or what I say.
The die is cast. The damage done.
The sun has set, and in the East!
It doesn’t get more done than that!
It is over. No “Remains of this Day.”
Even if she didn’t feed him against his little will,
I am here to tell ya, she will not give us the bill.
For 15 years, you lived your dream
Enamored with your weaselly word
A haughty, callous, evil scheme
To help yourself to someone’s hoard!
Did ya know with every word, you lied?
Or was it simple self-delusion?
Someone, soon, will turn the tide,
Perhaps, your Pal in this collusion?
Ya done gone killed the golden goose!
Ya ate’m up like common birds!
No more golden eggs for you!
All that’s left are egg shaped turds!
Ya called us greedy, is what we heard
But time will show that’s just absurd!
In case you have been wondering
What sparked my recent burst of verse,
It wasn’t random maundering
It was something far, far worse!
I came across my towel
And I began to think,
“Am I prepared for that hour
When all of this goes in the drink?”
I pondered Kirk’s and Spock’s reply
To this exquisite paradox
And decided I had better try
The advice of Zaphod Beeblebrox!
I Rhyme to please some future Vogon,
since I’m twice as old as Logan!
Holy Crow! He found his voice!
He chose the path he feared to take!
He spoke right up and made his choice
For good or ill, that’s no mistake!
Despite the odds of his worst fear
He chose the path that led to life!
He took a knee and called her near
And asked her if she’d be his wife!
Awaiting horror and broken heart
He held his breath for her response!
As candles guttered in fit and start
He got his answers all at once!
Because I’m cruel, I’ll let you wonder
Is his heart whole, or rent asunder?