Posts Tagged ‘change’

What’s that I’m hearin’
I hear people cheerin’
while old folks are die’in
young kids are starvin’
while women are hurtin’
they act so for certain
the dogs are collectin’
the good to be changin’
to crap they are sayin’
get rid of these fuckas
they think that we’re suckas
these financial magicians
are takin’ positions
Takin’ over and destroyin’

to hell with protectin’
the dogs are all barkin’
all good is forgotten
Think only of wallets
it must all be for profits
What ever they’re doin’
We must get rid of this ruin.


Boomer’s Rage

Posted: January 19, 2017 in poem, poet, poetry, politics, Sixties
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(I wrote and posted this a year ago, I felt it coming, now we are going to see it coming!)

As I go stumping through the day
full filling dreams of other’s say
I count the months and the day
That I’ll be free on my own highway

I’m not young I have reached the age
that I can crawl from this cage
Take some time to disengage
Be free of toil and daily wage

Write a word, build a craft
Drink my whiskey, have a laugh
Get up late then take a nap
Put on my head a liberal’s hat

Scream the words, that I’ve suppressed
Of oil and air and climate’s mess
Opinions kept, so close to chest
Like a caged bird sings, I will confess

Protest and rage, make a change
March the streets, rearrange
For I sold out for profit’s gains
All along we were all shortchanged

It’s not too late, songs will be sung
Painted signs and banners hung
On granite steps, speeches flung
Our 60’s youth not wasted, on the 60’s young.



I’m having less and less to say. With age comes sweet calmness and confidence. I’ve made my mark, the mark has been to only live to an older age each year, to get to a point where it is unnecessary to prove my worth.

From the time that I first retrieved an out of reach hammer for my father to save him a few steps, I was made aware of my worth. He said “Thank you Partner !”. Although I was four years old, I realized I was worthy to be on his job site. I was not just a kid stumbling over the two by fours, open trenches and avoiding backing cement trucks. I was now contributing to the effort. I was now the official tool, nail and board getter for the boss. His Go-fer! My first job! After work that afternoon, at a tavern that I can still recall the smell and the song playing on the juke-box, I received a Coke, a bag of peanuts and a thank you for my labor that day. Yes, I have literally worked for peanuts and I have worked for “Peanuts” pretty much every day since. Don’t we all? Like Pavlov’s dog, my mouth still waters at the sound of Patsy Cline, the smell of stale smoke and big bust bar maids. Basically, I’m still working for very similar rewards.

Oh, the peanuts do come in a much bigger bag now. I soon learned that my labor was worth more than just the memory of a smell, cold drink and a pretty song. But unfortunately the alarm clock each morning means time for work and at the sound of it my mouth stays a little dryer now. Most of my years since in order to get those rewards have involved government certifications, exams and yearly performance reviews. Just being there with the right tool at the right time hasn’t always been enough. Every year we are evaluated to prove our worth.

For more years than I care to count, I have worked. Perhaps since I was four years old, certainly since I was fourteen when I received my social security card and filled out my first 1040 tax form. There is now little reason for more certifications and I know the system well enough that a yearly performance review entails little more than copying last year’s, a phone call from the boss and if we are in the same city at the right time, a conversation over a nice meal. My days of having to prove my worth are coming to an end. Just performing my jobs well now will suffice.

I think I have finally reached my mark. It won’t be long that the Pavlov’s bell on the alarm clock will be put on snooze much more often. And the sound of it will really mean breakfast, the breakfasts that I have missed so many times in the past because my saliva was not anxious for bacon and eggs but for proving my worth at work. I’m almost there. But soon I will be getting back to gauging my worth by the chill of the Coke, the sound of the music and the pleasure of talking to beautiful big bust barmaids.

Such is the life of John.

Things Done

Posted: January 24, 2016 in poem, poet, poetry
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I know what I should do
I know what I am going to do
I know what I will be able to do
These are all things I haven’t done
And I have done many things
All were things that I had to do
Things I was inspired to do
Things I was driven to do
Things that just needed done
I have done nothing I could not do.


In 25 words or less, …. describe the universe.

Moon-joins-Venus-finder-chart I think it is because my grandfather and father were so attuned to the seasons, the stars, planets and the weather. They both taught me what they knew of the universe at every opportunity. No, neither used the Farmer’s Almanac.

When my father and I would be fishing and night would creep up on us, as I rowed the boat back to shore, he would gaze into the sky and point out the constellations and the visible planets and comment on the phase of the moon. I knew the major constellations years before I ever saw a star chart in science class. Each change of the seasons was an event at my house, even if only just to declare its arrival. I learned to listen because the lessons were short. Each was probably only in 25 words or less.

Many nights I stayed up for or was awakened by my Dad to see an eclipse, a satellite pass over head or the northern lights. The night skies were so much clearer then. An occasional distant incandescent yard light was the only interference we ever experienced at that time. Few today know the details of the night skies due to the bright lights shining from every city, town or home. Few have really seen the true thickness of the Milky Way as we did many years ago. If you haven’t lately, travel out as far as you can into the country side, away from city lights, to truly see just how beautiful the night sky really is. The places with no man-made light interference are getting harder and harder to find. But it will be very rewarding.

It is the knowing that is so wonderful. The knowing of what direction you are traveling at night just by knowing the time, the season and locating a couple stars . The knowing of when to expect a full moon so you will be able to use the light to go fishing by or when would be the best time for a night flight. Being aware of what time to expect sunrise or evening twilight as the seasons pass is very useful. It may sound silly now but it is a oneness we can develop with the universe by learning these things. It is a factual thing. It has nothing to do with the spiritual or the mystical, it is just knowledge.

This time of year, it is very hard to look into the heavens and not wonder why or wonder who created all of this and we can easily be amazed. But how can we expect to learn or discover the spiritual meaning unless we have made an effort to understand and learn the fundamental facts that have already been discovered? Only in knowing the physical truths of our universe will we ever be able to begin to discover and understand the why or the who. At each season change, isn’t it a good time to learn and wonder this? Even if only 25 words at a time.


Well, another year begins. 2016, if this century could drive, it could get its driver’s license this year. It is at that awkward teenage time of life. Its male side is walking around with a perpetual boner and not really knowing what to do with it. And worst of all, centuries don’t have thumbs and can’t effectively do anything about it anyway. So we don’t know what kind of trouble it will be getting into compensating for either short coming. The female side of this teenage century feels like she is 21 and doesn’t understand that there are no older male centuries out there that she can relate to. She wants to move ahead and start acting like an adult, although she is not quite experienced enough to survive in it. Very frustrating century age for her to be. Tempers on both sides can flare!

As you can see, we living in this 21st century teenaged age are living in a very critical time. If either side of this 2016 age doesn’t get laid soon, we are going to be in a hell of a mess. Just look back through past century’s teenage years and it will scare the hell out of ya! Many cruel historical events happened in each century while in its teens.

So what’s it going to be, this 2016? Will our male side of the century continue blustering around overcompensating for its short dick by getting bigger guns, building for war and self-protection and pushing the downtrodden,  the poor and displaced. Or will it just calm down a bit, read some good books, learn how to drink, smoke a joint or maybe just get a magazine and grow some thumbs. Get rid of some of that testosterone. Chill for Christ’s sake! You are only 2016!

And the same for the 2016 teenage century girl side. Trust what your 20th century mother has told you. Your mind will grow into your lovely new 21st century body. The man side will soon see more in you than just sex. There is time for you to make a huge mark in the world. This will be your century. Just enjoy your youth and don’t try to grow up so fast. But learn to compete with the male and female assholes! You are only 2016!

I’m sorry I have to talk to you this way so early in the year, 2016. But it is a very critical age you are living and lots of people are depending on you. So take your old Uncle ShipSmoke’s advice, and try to play nice this year, calm down, take a breath. I’m getting old, my bones hurt and I need the rest. But try to shut the fuck up and enjoy your time here!


(Thanks DSS! , E or OC couldn’t have said this any better themselves.  John)

It is the 31st, the last day of the year 2015. It will only happen again in our dreams, stories, poems and imagination. I will remember the fog this morning and the temperature. I will probably start any stories or poems about this day with, “It was a dark and foggy morning and I felt the chill”. I will probably end my stories and poems about this day with “I will make that resolution again, this year”.

Of course , we in the Northern Hemisphere will be celebrating while freezing our butts off watching a Ball drop or Peach drop or a Cranberry drop or Apple drop, what ever your state’s veggie, fruit or iconic image is. Everyone counting down from 10 – 9- 8 – 7 ……-1 , watch a fireworks display then run  back indoors where it is warm and have another drink, kiss or dance with a pretty girl (wife) next to you or eat another one of those little pizza rolls. But down deep, we would really rather be building a large bonfire in the backyard, gather around it naked and dance and roll around together to music made by drums of  animal skin, played by bare bones and roasting an entire cow. Those Pagans really knew how to party!

If we are in the Southern Hemisphere, aka Australia, they do it right, also. They will be having a drink on the beach, surfing, watching girls in bikinis and throwing another shrimp, fish or veggie, what ever is their Providence’s favorite, on the barbie. I think New Years Eve and New Years Day in January was meant for the Southern Hemisphere, don’t you?

There really isn’t anything special about this day or holiday eve. If we were remembering a past New Year of a few hundred years ago, it probably would be remembered as in March, around the March Equinox . Of course, I am not sure that they would have been using the same names for the months. It seems that every nation had a favorite string of 12 or 13 month names that they used for a calendar. Whatever the month, it probably was a month named after a pagan god. To me, the time of an Equinox, either in Fall or Spring makes more sense to celebrate a new year. But if the Romans or the Christians want it to start in January, the month of the pagan god Janus, so be it. It may be because the god Janus was also known as having two faces. That somehow seems appropriate, almost poetic, now that I think of it. Ok! January it is! I will openly accept January first as New Years Day but secretly, when I’m alone, I will diligently be working to change it to March 21st, when it should be. Isn’t that what Janus would do?

A real pagan New Year celebration, during March Equinox,  that is what I’ll work for. I will make that resolution again, this year.




Posted: October 21, 2015 in change, creative writing, poetry
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There has been some playful stomping in the puddles of my mind lately
But you know I will only allow splashing on the surface
And certainly no more than ankle deep
You can only wade in areas that I am sure you can touch the bottom.
If you are thinking of putting on hip waders to tread into deeper waters,
I warn you it will be on a slippery and rocky bottom that you step.
If you have any plans of diving in head first you will be entering a dark and scary place.
Perhaps not deep but the currents are strong and you can easily be swept away.
If you are playing in my pool, I will do my best to keep you in the shallow end.


Oh damn…., OC is back, I was hoping we would never have to go back there again.  John


Posted: April 13, 2015 in creative writing, Life
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April is my month. How can I not love a month that starts with a fool’s day and also contains my birthday? I know that it was years ago but I was indeed born at a very young age. Dirt had just begun to form on that smoke filled cloudy day. The volcanoes had stopped blowing their stacks just a few days before.

My birthday falls on a weekend this year, so I had to decide whether I will be taking a long weekend to make up for it. As some of you know, I always take my birthday off each year. Regardless of which day of the week it falls. Yes, whether on a Monday or a Wednesday, I’m sleeping late on the day of my birthday. If, as it has this year, it falls on a weekend, I celebrate it on the Saturday or Sunday but I have to decide whether to take Monday off. It is sort of like the post office and other government offices, a three day weekend. Every 6 or 7 years I have to make this decision. In the past, I have taken the Friday or Monday off and enjoyed the three days of relaxation. This year, I’ve kept my nose to the grindstone and decided to work.

I now can say, it was a mistake. No red blooded American should turn down a three day weekend, particularly if it is in celebration of the day of their birth. I really didn’t get anything accomplished today. I was still reeling from the fact that I have gotten another year older. And what a number of years it has been. I used to celebrate because I had reached an age that proved I was old enough to do something. These are landmarks everyone has had. Events like old enough to go to school with your older brothers and sisters. Old enough to get a BB gun without worrying your mother that you’d break windows, kill birds or shoot your sister’s eye out. (Mom never did say ” you might shoot your eye out”. I really think if I did any harm to  myself, she thought it would just be, what farmers call, culling the herd.) The magic age of 16, the driver’s license. 18, graduating from high school and registering for the draft, 21 for drinking and voting. I always thought the privilege for drinking and voting should have come before registering for the draft..Am I wrong?

All of those years are ages we look forward to. Well, most of them anyway. But once you reach 21 things start to go a little down hill. Sort of down hill but we can laugh about them. Like turning 30, we are in that “don’t trust anyone over thirty” separation from youth. Then 10 years later the big “4” “0” rolls around. Forty is probably the first age we reach that we begin to think the more sobering realizations of our mortality. At 40 we don’t heal up as fast as we did when we were 20.  Then we reach 50.

At 50, we really just feel that we are indeed adults. We should be starting to dress more “grown up like” at 50. You know, wearing less Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd tee-shirts and less tennis shoes. But we don’t, we actually start wearing our rock band tee shirts more and start listening to much more Golden Oldies. We are seen wearing not less but more comfortable tennis shoes and less wingtips. I think most therapist call the age between 50 and 60 the decade we truly are scrambling to hang onto and relive our youth. The 50 to 60 aged crowd probably knows more about their teenage and twenty something rock music and movie stars than they did when they were 19 or 20. And now they have the money to actually go to their favorite band’s second or third farewell concerts. If done right, the 50’s to 60’s can be the greatest time to be working on that bucket list. Death is not exactly staring you in the face but you can see the damn thing just starting to appear on the horizon. I think we sober up and grow up the most in our 50’s decade.

Then the 60’s, I’m a few years into that decade now. A week or so ago I went to what may probably be my one and only Fleetwood Mac concert. Yes, it was on the unwritten bucket list. I still want to go to another one. I figure I can do it as long as they can. I’m actually looking forward to that next landmark age, retirement age in a few years. I wore my Pink Floyd tee shirt this weekend. And I was thinking of buying a low powered BB gun last week when I saw a stray cat chase my backyard rabbit and paired Cardinals out of my yard. I’d rather have Cardinals and Rabbits in my backyard as stray cats. But it felt funny not having anyone telling me I couldn’t buy one. You get that way in your 60’s. But I would never chase the neighbor kids off of my grass at this age. I reserve that for my 70’s and 80’s.

Such is the life of John

The Angry Hunger

Posted: March 15, 2015 in free verse, love, poetry
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Pulling the words from the Universe and the titles from our old poets
Reminding us of an invisible presence of compassion
that you told us was filling the vacuum of the vast yet to be understood black emptiness
and mentioned your God.
You marveled at the night sky stars and planets that you slept under and wondered about
while you drove your wandering road trips
Drinking and screwing and sharing what you and others loved.
Giving us long written scrolls reminding us of our short lives
and warning us of our early deaths by the hand of conformity
We say we are walking to your rhythm
but your beat may be one we no longer can completely explain.