Thoughts That Would Make Me a Pariah On Social Media: The Fall Tussle

Thoughts That Would Make Me a Pariah On Social Media: The Fall Tussle: The Fall Tussle Fall, let us discuss the ways I loathe thee first we can look at what has become of my magnificent tree al...

Pig

                                                Pig                                 

                                    We are not an island
                          independent of one another
                If we were, would it make a difference?

     Rather, we are a web
        Much like Charlotte of yore spun
                   in an attempt to save a single pig
                            before sending forth her progeny
                                              to live in the world beyond

                                                      The one that we have inherited
                                           The one that we will wreck?
                               A delicate balance must be struck
                    Between what is need
           and what is want
Sans guilt
    Looking always towards a brighter future

                                    Find your pig
                                     ...and save it

Green, Brown, Gold

Shimmering sentinels mark the days
as the doomsday clock marches on
Abundance in one hand, death in the other
The proletariat battle for orts
not realizing the bounty
just beyond their purview
unable to comprehend
the exigent metamorphosis
They fail to see the bounty of Canaan
             that is theirs by right
Complacent by nature
they contend as they always have
     one foot in the grave

Spring Hope

Now that MLB's Spring Training is nearly a full month in, I felt it an opportunity to go back to the archives and share a poem of hope.  As a fan of the Boston Red Sox, it may be the last chance I have so:

             Each year
thirty collective dreams
encompassing millions of wishes
begin anew
hope runs rampant
that the year
may finally be here
that the summer months
may be filled with joy
and the hometown boys
might bring home the pennant
thoughts of where the local nine
may reside come September
are not entertained
for now there is
thoughts of Spring and Sun
and days are filled with Dreams

Dear Summer

From March 16, 2011, but it seems necessary with the weather that has been harassing MA of late:

Dear Summer
Please return fast
I promise not to waste days
as I have in years past

even when drops of rain
should fall

they will be celebrated

your recall is correct
that I have long berated
puddles that gather
when there's a game
that I'd rather see completed

but I'm desperate
so I promise
there'll be no complaints
if only you'll save me
from this snowy hell

beautiful days
under bright blue skies
shall be met with
thunderous applause
as I spin myself in to
a heat-induced haze

I long for nights
when I can laze about
and watch stars
plummet from the sky
granting wishes
with their descent

and if random hail and lightning
should befall us
I shan't hold you responsible
and will accept it as one of those things

even if it's a day at the beach
or a barbeque interrupted
I shan't lay blame at your feet
but will instead chalk it up
as thing that sometimes occur
whilst looking forward to the next day
knowing that it should be resplendent

Dear Summer
I miss you so
please return to me
pronto

Corporate Slave

Tethered to this desk
held back by life's burdens
the question remains
How to break free?

Who among us is really free?
No one comes the resounding echo
We are all slaves in this world
Controlled by inner impulses

The proleterian pretend to

        have a choice
The ignorant assume that they do
The truly brave admit their faults
and thus relinquish their bonds

Christmas *Poem* 4

Following in the footsteps of *poems* 1, 2, & 3, here is the final iteration in this grouping:

Christmas 4

If Christmas does nothing else
it provides us with a reason
to express to those who are closest
how much they truly mean
it may be in word or in deed
it's not necessarily 'bout
the biggest box under the tree
Not that there is anything wrong
with shiny paper and pretty bows
they help stir our emotions
but those feelings, much like the contents
are temporal by nature
friendship and family last a lifetime
and provide for us the cause
to celebrate the most wondrous season

Christmas *Poem* 3

Following hot on the trail of *poems* 1 & 2, here is the 3rd edition of a Christmas poem that I have written:

 

Christmas *Poem* 3

As Santa Claus
heads on in to town
I can't help feel
that we've let him down

As he makes his way
o'er the big city
can his heart be filled
with anything but pity

I stop and wonder
if he has taken
the time to ponder
how we went so wrong

If he stops to think
what has become of Christmas
and how the people he visits
no longer do it justice

Does sweet Virginia
run through his memory
along with the hubbub created
when she asked if he might be

the fact that we've turned
from all that made the day pure
does make any less
its historic lure

Piloting his sleigh
with Rudolph at the helm
all the thoughts that would weigh
a mortal man down

Must be lost in the sky
'cuz he still has that
same ol' twinkle in his eye

Optimism unseen
by those down below

Waiting on the day
when many more
will still Believe

Christmas Poem 2

Following in the footsteps of my first Christmas "poem", here is my second attempt:

Christmas Poem 2

With the world still at war
we all head to the store
in search of the perfect gift
to make Christmas right
all through the night
the children huddle with fright

uncertain that Santa
will find their door

the images they see
while watching their t.v.

death and destruction
rule the tube
and we all wonder
who is the rube

that has this
as a master plan

the world filled with dread
as we count all the dead
the number continues to rise
as tears form we close our eyes
and pray for a better day

a star in the sky
a star in the sky
fighting to be seen
through fog and snow
trying to tell us
what we should already know

no matter the terror
in spite of any tragedy
there is a lesson to be learned
by both you and me

our leaders in name
they aren't always sane
they look for a reason
even during this
most magical season

leaving the onus on us
to do all that we can
every last one
to help our fellow man

if we all were to help one
what a wonderful world
we could make

then last but not least
remember to leave
a glass of milk
and a big plate of cookies

Because Santa always has room
for one more

A Christmas "Poem"

Several years back, I got it into my head that I would become the Charles Dickens of Christmas poems.  It turns out, Dickens was a wicked good writer.  I'm a hack.  Enjoy, anyway:

Christmas

Rudolph with your nose so bright
and Elvis way up in the sky
Be beacons to us on this most holy night
lift our spirts and keep them high

keep in our minds the reason
that we are able to be so merry
let joy and peace reign this Christmas season
Oh Santa! I pray that you hear me

and for the little ones who wait
their beliefs not yet sullied
lying awake in a frenzied state
listening and listening ever so patiently

These starry-eyed children
who still can't sleep
huddled under blankets
listening for a peep

or a scrape
the dragging of a hoof
surely that was Santa
up on the roof

loaded down with presents
what toys might he bring?
for all the girls and boys
Oh! how they'll sing

Christmas morn', finally here
anticipation so thick, it fills the air
parents sit watching through worn out smiles
while ribbons and bows fly everywhere

perhaps family is the true reason
for each and every holiday season

Fall

the air has chilled
summer once again fading away
there's still hope though,
because none of the leaves
have thought to fall
to the ground
yes, the leaves are now plotting on their own
holding onto the branches as tightly as they can
trying to extend the life they have
clinging to the hope
that it may be true
that summer doesn't have to end
that dreams can come true
and life can be eternal

The Fall Tussle

The Fall Tussle

Fall, let us discuss

the ways I loathe thee

first we can look at

what has become of my

magnificent tree

all summer long

it stood proud and green

you turned its leaves brown

now they fall to the ground

leaving it stark naked

and adding to my toil

do not think that this salvo

    goes unnoticed

truly you are the most

fickle of seasons

one moment a warning

of what is to come

the next a reminder

of glorious summer

that has departed

your nights consume

     our days

to the point

that the sun

becomes a stranger

this will not stand

there are those

who choose to

     defend you

  by comparing you

favorably to spring

but I never buy that line

spring comes with

the promise of summer

   and better days

you serve only

as a harbinger

for winter

and all that

may entail

you bring with you

      football

but take from me

      baseball

laughing at me

as if to suggest

this might be

a fair exchange

it is not

but rather is

another example

of the warped

sense of humor

you choose to employ

I am not amused

no, not at all

in my head

I conspire against you

plotting ways to foil

your dastardly deeds

but nothing comes to mind

perhaps if I brought in

      a ringer

  Leonard Susskind, for instance

a solution would arrive

but it would be

     just my luck

that he is

a fan of yours

no, I must go it alone

so I offer this small truce:

take your cardigans and corduroys

I'll send your cold, crisp mornings

and all I ask in return

is for a sliver of land to call my own

where I never have to hear your name

(Autumn or Fall?  Honestly, how pretentious can you be?)

Heroes

Heroes

Without a second's hesitation
death's evil grin is challenged time and again
            as molten steel bends
ceilings collapse, floors give way
fueling the rage and cacophony
screams engulf the peripheral
as smoke permeates
        the field of vision
professionalism, resolve, and focus
dictate that the sacrifice must continue
the tears and heartache that well up inside
must be saved for a future date
that might never be seen
the job at hand is far from over
clinging to life is a perilous proposition
a brief respite as another soul is saved
            -temporarily
        Ash fills the sky
Mt. St. Helen's explodes on a city skyline
        millions within its radius
the red line is their collective hope
they battle the blaze until well after dusk
        Four hundred and eleven was the final tally
   of those we lost in their call to duty
                Men and women whose only concern
            was protecting their fellow man
We should never forget their courage
                    nor the reason they were placed in harm's way

Lemmings Leap

 
Lemmings Leap

Jumping handinhand

Destiny determined

by outside forces

Knowing the pain

of going forward

Hopeful that it will

be of short duration

and less severe

than the pain

left behind

a searing sensation

the countdown to death

one final kiss

tears streaming down cheeks

then impact

no last request

Just eternal blackness

Expectations

    Expectations

in a time before now
when we still had our youth
and the world was uncomplicated
we looked out with bright eyes
and knew that it was ours
for the taking
then we grew up
and our lives became everything
we swore they would not
over run with details
that have thusfar
kept us from our rightful place
we are on the sidelines
passively watching others
as they move forward
with their vision
of what reality should be
there is still time
but the sands continue to run
not caring about our life's mission
nor the fact that there may not be
enough time to accomplish it

Reticent

Reticent

To those whom my words have wounded
I offer a heart-felt apology
on occasion they miss their mark
or are misread, misinterpreted
or are otherwise mangled
sadly, the fault for that
can lie only with me,
your humble author
the words, which by
their definition attack
cannot be held responsible
they were merely following orders
taking their places as assigned
marching to the front lines
with nary a shred of cover
I have more than once
    left them naked
to play the part of scapegoat
this mea culpa goes out to them, too
I declare them innocent
and accept the punishment due them
this is the course of action prescribed
it must be followed
to the gallows I trudge
one last sweet breath before...

Slippery

      Slippery (written 2/23/2009)

You tell me that
I must trust, I must believe
despite the preponderance
        of evidence
    to suggest otherwise
   my heart is desperate to be deceived
ignoring the nocuous vibe
      that emanates from your soul
     running over your lacquered tongue
        treating my ears to the words they want to hear
           if not for my eyes, those wonders that are forced
to take in your basilisk gaze
                                           I might not withstand your advances
        and would forever be held under your infernal spell

Blinders

(written on 02.16.2009)

My froward heart has allowed itself to be deceived
by a steady stream of feckless platitudes
it has confused pinchbeck emotion for love
casting a penumbra over my eyes
my brain, easily distracted, is blind
to the obdurate reality swirling about
(a result that in hindsight is easy to portend)
In a Gadarene rush I am pulled to the precipice
fortunately, the cacophony ring in my ears
prevents me from realizing the peril below