Archive for the ‘the mind’ Category

Beyond the shade of evening light
and far from the brilliance of stars
there is a place where thoughts are born
and where they go when dimmed.

It is a place where no man can go
not flesh nor soul or ghost
It is where all dreams are made
and where poems reign as king

Poems within transparent books
Of words from thoughts unseen
When opened the words pierce the poet’s skull
and forms the verse he sees

Books only opened up by love
or peace or hate and jealousy
Pages turned by an emotional muse
Who throws them out at lightning speed

Thoughts caught behind wide green tinted eyes
Squarely neatly within hollow porous bone
Thoughts caught by a searching willing soul
Who believes his careful words are all his own

DSS

With the flip of the wall switch, the room went dark and silent. Only the fading click, click, click of the slowing unbalanced ceiling fan remained. With each receding five blade revolution the day, too, was finally winding down to an end. I carefully find my way to the corner edge of the bed spread and tight cotton sheets and collapse into bed.

Bacon, eggs, sesame seed toast and orange marmalade, I think I can smell it but I must just be dreaming of breakfast. I roll over, kicking, unwrapping the sheet from around my legs and lay with knees together, back straight and slowly realign each vertebra with a relieving snap, crackle or pop.  Jeez, it seemed I had just gotten to sleep.

I had been under the mistaken belief that retirement included 8 full hours of undisturbed sleep each night. Not so. Your mind is the last to get the message. It has no intentions of retiring. I was right, just as I suspected, only my body was worn out.

Such in the life of John

 

 

 

I was walking down the street last Thursday
and a dog with bright white teeth and a big smile
approached me from the right.
He said he enjoyed walking with humans and asked if he could join me.
I, a man of great tolerance, said OK, glad to have ya!
We had walked only a block or two and he starts sniffing the street light poles and fire hydrants.
And with that big smile on his face he raises his leg and pisses on one of the posts.
Shocked…. I said, “look, that is very embarrassing to me, to be walking with you and then
having you do that. people will think you are my dog and blame me for messing up the sidewalk.
And how can you do that with such a big smile on your face?”

He said, “Smile on my face? I’m not smiling, dogs don’t smile! I have an urinary infection!” Then he gave me the finger!

OC

I’m not rockin’, really.
Just thinkin’
A question or two.
Not really.
You probably want to know
what thing would keep me up
awake, rustling the bed-sheets
fluffing and re-fluffing the pillow.
Not about a dollar gained or lost
a love lost or dreamt of.
An aching back or swollen knee,
a boner
none of these.
A red digital clock flashing a new number
every 60 seconds
every goddamn minute.
Maybe that is it,
the minutes silently ticking away
without a sound, a shout
or fond farewell
just a goddamn flash
of a sequential number.
Can’t live with them
can’t live without them
clocks
so many goddamn clocks
reminding us of the passage of time
passing at the speed of light
The only way to slow it down
is to keep moving
the faster the better.
Or live in the millisecond
ya, that might do it.
stretch it out to a thousand pieces.
Ok, I’ll meet you downtown
at 6:01:23.003
Don’t be late.
I have not a millisecond to waste.

OC

 

 

Hawking

Posted: April 18, 2017 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, the mind, writing
Tags: , , , ,
First Posted: April 17, 2014

Among the jumbling mumbling mode
the Racker Thatcher crumbs his creel.

his back’s crunched bent
– his chrome’s thrust spent,
fingers palms thick tough as heel.

upon the humbling rumbling ride
the Racker Thatcher moves his way.

his voice’s grunt gone
– now electron’s song,
teared eyes movewink what to say.

within the mightling thinkling mind
the Racker Thatcher spins his rhyme.

smiles gum and tooth
– speaks Universal truth,
of our, A Brief History of Time.

DSS.

Reposting a few from three years ago.

That clown also smells like moth balls.
In my little town,
we had a little clown
that would appear
only once a year
for an annual event,
a carnival on the square,
Not only did he scare me well,
he had that moth ball smell!
He must have kept that clown suit
in a closet for all the year
So now when I smell mothballs,
I think of clown and beer.
I suspected that he played Santa, too

OC

This poem originated from a comment I made on The Muscleheaded Blog .

Since none other of John’s characters feel like contributing,  I will repost a few facts and thoughts about me, E, that were unknown until that time.

Saturday December 10, 2011

1) My pickup randomly does not start on the first turn of the key. Very unpredictable. It may start every time for a week and then out of nowhere it only clicks. I turn the ignition off and try again and it starts immediately. This makes me very insecure. I will be left stranded someday. Of course, it never fails to start for my mechanic.

2) I sometimes hear a humming in my house. No one else can or will ever hear it. It sounds like a fan running way far in the background. I can’t find where it is originating. Others are questioning my sanity.

3) I have a pain in my left lower abdomen. I have had multiple CT scans, x-rays and cardiac stress tests. No one can find or explain the cause. This makes me very insecure. I will be left stranded someday. Others question my sanity. If I had a tombstone and I won’t, it would say “told ya I was sick”.

4) I seldom go through fast food drive-through windows. On the few occasions that I have, randomly I get a sandwich with no meat patty in it. No one else that I talk to has ever had this happen. This makes stopping at a fast food place more interesting for me but it doesn’t entice me to go there more often.

5) I attract toddlers. When I fly commercially, I watch the door as passengers board, when a mother boards with one or more children I know exactly where they will be sitting. If the children are two or younger, directly beside me. If they are between the ages of three and seven, directly behind me so they have a comfortable place to kick their feet. This of course happens randomly, it makes that long walk down the aisle, mother, child and suitcase in tow, very suspenseful. This makes me very insecure.

6) In my experience of commercial flying I have sat next to three mothers nursing their infants. All at different times, of course. This makes me insecure, I worry where I should keep my eyes and I am amazed at how long it takes a small child to feed. But I feel that after the child goes to sleep the mother should remove the baby and button up. After a flight like that I question my own sanity.

7) I never change lines at the store check out counters. Every time, yes every time that I have changed to a shorter line, the customer ahead of me presents an out-of-town check, needs a refund or asks for a price check.

Somehow all of these unpredictable things as a whole give me a warm sense of knowledge, experience, calmness and insecurity. This I know.

E

Ok, how do I do it? I’ve been wide awake since 3:30AM. How do I get back to sleep?

I have never understood counting sheep. I try to think only good thoughts. But I do that all the time anyway. I may start thinking only bad thoughts, that may work. But I have enough nightmares that wake me up now. Although I don’t think that’s what woke me this morning.

Maybe I’m just not tired. But when I got up to pee, my joints and bones didn’t cooperate. I actually hobbled to the bathroom. I did not feel rested. Ok, now I remember, I woke up because I had to pee. That’s happening more and more lately. But I should be able to go back to sleep.

Damn, I wish for the old days when the only thing that woke me up was a boner.

Such is the life of John.

Within the Folds

Posted: October 22, 2015 in poem, poet, poetry, the mind
Tags: , ,

You tripped and thought I’d gone away
to not return that day that day that day you say
that brings the chills thought gone away
of that day that day, you pray.

You pushed me deep deep deep away
within the folds of your brain pan clay
Never to ask to come out to play
not just for one day one day one day.

I’ve had my rest, my years away
but with no sight of day of day of day
only dark I had no words to say
within your mind I had to stay to stay to stay

But I heard your cry the pain you pray
You opened the window of light of day of day
I’m here to help fight against the fray
of the pain and gloom you felt that day that day

You will not like what I have to say
I will swear and cuss our day away away away
but you’ll not listen to the words I say
from within the folds of your brain pan clay.

So here I am I’m not here to stay
You’ll awake and I’ll be gone away away away
Only here to fight against the fray
of the gloom and doom that you fought that day
….. that day that day

OC