2, maybe 3 poems

2, maybe 3 poems, depending on how you see the first two, which are maybe one.  The last (I say ‘last’ so I don’t have to get into a 2 v. 3 controversy) just (I word I’m currently fond of) fell onto the keyboard when I was actually hoping to go in another direction altogether.  Right now that other direction escapes me.

Should you enjoy these, please let me know.  If you don’t, I’m ready to hear that too.

Be well!

.

.

POEMS 8/10/07

Workday’s End

Biking home

across the narrow, pedestrian bridge path

through slow, dense, honking traffic

up and down a hill to the bike path along the river–

this cool, quiet place

right now beyond time.

**************************

Bobbie–

Pedaling home along the river

The rush and substance of my day’s work

dissolve into the warm breeze and thoughts of you.

*****************************************

Last night, waking periodically

from the irregular agonies

climbing up and down a pain column

extending from jaw to solar plexus

yet reassured

by a reputable authority

after scientifically verifiable testing

that my heart was not at all involved,

this occurred to me with a crystal clarity so rare as to be truly noteworthy:

(Hear me now!) The Difference (note the perhaps extravagant use of the capital D!) is really simple and for that matter bipolar:

that the things of this material world pass more quickly as they are used more frequently. They wear down. They wear out. They are, in two words, used up.

The things of this idea world, however gain strength with use.  The more often we think them the stronger they become.

But now, in the gray, overcast quiet light of midday,

(meditation over, email checked, Bobbie out at a movie, the cats both littered and fed) I’m not so sure. The stronger an idea becomes through repetition the more– and I hesitate (but not really) to use this word–

the more real it becomes.

And the more it’s repeated into acceptability

[Trusting authorities was once a novel idea]

the more susceptible to challenge,

to attack, to diminishment,

to dumbing down, acceptance

and–yes–disappearance.

Beyond even make-believe

All the way back to non-existence.

Although, it occurs to me just now

Non-existence may only be

where things hang out

waiting to be discovered…

.     .     .

.     .     .

.      .     .

(25 years ago I had to smoke reefer

to think this way.)

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Published in: on August 10, 2007 at 5:05 pm  Comments (2)  
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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. The mind is a terrible thing to lose. But what is real anyway. The poems are good. We create words on a page that flow from the inside. Do no harm and you sleep better at night.

    Like

  2. Your words are getting even more profound, deep, and meaningful than ever they have been in the past.

    You speak of writing a book, and have yet to do so.

    This is NOT a criticism, but an encouragement to do just that. Your writing is beautiful. Your thoughts are very provocative. Together, especially in a text for people in the addiction field…priceless.

    Like


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