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Magical Thoughts

December 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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When I experience hurt

I indulge

In magical thinking.

Very annoying

For others,

Unfamiliar with the technicalities

Behind my tricks.

 

 

He or she

May say,

That “I” am mistaken in my observations.

But with the wave of

My magical thinking wand,

I create mystical anagrams,

And hey presto,

I pull a bunny

Straight out of

The top hat.

 

Sadly, the rabbits

Only live as long

As the delusion,

And I find it draining

When they keep coming along

Day after day after day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dinner

November 4, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Ode To Social Anxiety

 

Sitting opposite my wife

With my napkin

On my lap,

I gripped my fork and stabbed the duck,

Marinated in weird oriental sauces, so I thought,

Served with a smashed potato,

As I was crushed by an

Intensifying anxiety,

Aware (or thinking) that the two diners

At the next table

Were watching me.

 

My mouth was as dry as the skin on the bird,

My stare as steely as the knife by the dinner plate,

And the guy with the beard and glasses grinned

And whispered something to his wife

Who turned around

To look at me.

 

And I chewed on the meat that was as tough as nails

Between my teeth,

 

And I knew I was not only fighting a losing battle

With my culinary skills

But also, the people around me,

Who I knew,

Found my side profile odd,

And disconcerting.

That was the only explanation I could find.

 

We were on a ship and had no choice,

Our seats were allotted arbitrarily,

At the reception desk,

And my fellow diners, complete strangers,

Now had to contend

With my presence,

Having spoiled their evening

With my glancing and scanning

To see who was watching,

And guessing that they must be thinking

What I knew to be true,

Without validation.

 

I do look odd from the side,

So they say,

And the duck, was really quite tough.

When the diners had gone

I asked the waiter

“What was the sauce” and he said

It was  plum puree.

Plum.

Puree.

 

And the ship sailed along

As we finished our wine

A man sang a song

We were both feeling fine,

And the diners had gone

To their cabins to sleep

Outside there were stars

And waters so deep.

 

But I didn’t go back

The following night

To our table

Beside

The strangers.

The inherent dangers

Of projecting our fears

On each other

Can be put aside

Because

We will never see

Each other again.

 

 

 

 

Trap

April 3, 2017 — Leave a comment

Wandering between two points

With no other exit plan

Wondering if I 

Will ever see the light of day

Again

Even though

The sun is covering the earth

In sweet golden light

I am trapped between coordinates

I put in place myself

Over time.

Rhetorical

February 20, 2017 — Leave a comment

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I can’t shake off this furious anxiety

That thwarts my breathing, to

Shallow repetitive beats,

Obscuring

My capacity

For normal thoughts,

 

And when I wondered why those

Intermittent perturbances

Should even be?

The question

Answered itself.

 

 

Image from The Odyssey Online

The Fisherman’s Jug

February 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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The oak table in the corner, sturdy and solid,

Under the candelabra ,

In the farmhouse,

A cracked jug on top.

 

With other kitchen accruements

Laid out neatly

By the stove,

The plates and tankards

Strung on the wall,

It’s easy to ignore

The cracked jug.

 

Most visitors were apathetic

Regarding the unglazed vessel

That had been left

By an old fisherman.

 

Even the new tenants

And their friends

And families

Dismissed it

As aesthetically spoiling.

 

And the old fisherman

Who once lived there

Knew what it was like

To be ignored

And untouched

And unloved,

 

Saw the blemish on the jug

As a scar

That defined the jug

A perceptible imperfect mark.

 

So before he died

The old fisherman

Dropped a large pearl

Inside the jug

And left it there.

 

When he was gone,

And when people came by the farmhouse

They ignored the dirty old jug

Sitting alone;  like the old man

Would sit alone,

Not realizing that if they looked inside,

They would see the real beauty

The true value,

And their lives could have been changed

Forever.

And they come to tea
Uninvited
Fondling my fragile china cups
Tedious tapping of a tea spoon
On a saucer.

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Only to have my faith and peace trashed
And crumpled up
And thrown back on to the path.

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Dark Roses

January 29, 2017 — Leave a comment

Nobody knows
What it’s like
Trying to get out of a locked room
When the key is missing

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Your voices make little difference,

The wind has the power to defeat

And take away all this dire screaming

But leave blisters and scars on your feet.

 

You can dress in vaginal outfits,

Give a finger to every young cop

Throw water bottles

At barking Alsatians,

There is nothing to say you must stop.

 

Urinate on the stars and stripes if you want,

Wipe your feet or your ass on the flag,

Smash up a Starbucks

(But don’t expect to get served),

Smash up banks

(Who financed your candidate),

And shout down the scum who you hate.

 

But it won’t make any difference

I can assure you,

The bed in the attic’s still there,

The food stamps will keep on arriving,

And the wind will still blow in your hair.

 

The streets will be cleared in the morning

As sad bitter people disperse,

To the buses and trains and planes waiting,

And the undertaker driving the hearse.

 

 

 

 

 

Fool Moon

January 12, 2017 — 4 Comments

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A fool

With an iPhone,

Is delusional

If he imagines,

A snap of the moon with a minuscule shutter,

Will capture the enormity of this

Striking ornament.

It won’t, of course,

But it lets God know

I care.

And if I hadn’t seen her glow

We’d never have existed.