Postcards from Hell

 

February 21, 2014  (I was 69)

 

Postcards from Hell

You never know exactly where you are

A lot of mirrors and in each a different appearance

yet every one a recognizable reflection

 

Went to the portrait gallery

Nothing but mug shots

 

There is a distinction made between

those here for what they did

and those here for what they thought

but no difference is made by that distinction

 

We hear Oh go to Hell

is a favorite expression among the angels

 

Sometimes letters get through from above

mostly looking for drugs and alcohol

 

Finally saw some blue devils

They used to be Eskimos

 

Darwin used to be here

but he evolved

 

Things can get out if you can find the border

Thing is there are no definable borders

 

Screw up here

and you’re born again

  

Here we know

we all shared all guilt

a knowledge of which

those in heaven are ignorant

The squeaky wheel:

 

February 16, 2014  (I was 69)

 

The squeaky wheel:

a)    is a CFO

b)    eventually grinds to a halt

c)    ran over a mouse

d)    is a bar

A leopard cannot change:

a)    a flat

b)    the actions of an ant

c)    into a leotard

d)    but it sure can run

The bigger they are:

         a)  the looser the fit

b)    the more likely to be named Goliath

c)    the fewer to the barrel

d)    the smaller we seem

If you don’t like the way the table is set:

a)    set it yourself

b)    fire the maid (in Spanish)

c)    eat in the living room

d)    overturn the table

The Doubt of the Benefit

 

February 4, 2014  (I was 69)

 

         The Doubt of the Benefit

Sometimes you just put one in for the system

You spend the entire day mopping up

The only other people I see mop just as much as me

It aint no thrill to find I’m the one caused the spill

Understand I do it in belief I affect the system

or in the same way I still pray long after

I quit believing in religion 

Harder to do each day

Each day the system has another way to explain

the role of those who serve the system

out of love out of duty out of belief they are valued

not only for their ability to mop but for their knowledge

of where exactly to mop on any given day

 

I have never had a human Master

 

January 30, 2014  (I was 69)  

 

I have never had a human Master

or I have had a failure of recognition

I have had inspiring teachers of particular knowledge

None with an overall conceptual guidance

to which I could commit adherence

Any who assumed that elevation soured within me

The submission was distasteful the creed questionable

I have found serene paths among masterful trees

stone thrones from which to contemplate

Wind fills and drums the lungs

gives voice to tree and every aspect of geography

Birds offer the element of inquiry

The message is of the moment and present situation

The promise is of continuance but not of eternity

 

There is a melody in the background

 

January 17, 2014  (I was 69)

 

There is a melody in the background

a melody you may not hear

but the xylophone notes that float

in thought sound clear

 

There is a tune I hang the word upon

and the word is carried along a drift

from the tones of the vibraphone

serenading the cerebellum

 

It hums a song of balance and dance

It is a presence a pose and a posture

The inspired movements of romance

an equilibrium in which you’re lost

 

There is a consonance of concordant harmony

the incidental music of the mind

we find synchronized and euphonious

waiting for your expression

 

The most I see the least I like

 

from this week in October, 2014  (I was 69)

 

The most I see the least I like

master of the snap judgment

mind made up in insomniac’s bed

If there is no distinction why the perception

Sing unassigned syllables

assonance in dissonance

rebuttal in the rhyme

That overheard in passing the only communiqué

often only an utterance

Some grow silent to see me coming

revealing more than if they spoke

Bodies speak good English

and eyes are windows in any language

that look away too late

I instigate instant implications

immediate interpretations and assumptions

imagine responsive retorts

that put everyone in their place

What man can do?

My Croatian grandfather used to say

 

I have not had abiding compassion

 

from this week in 2014  (I was 69)

 

I have not had abiding compassion

for animals.  It has been my culture

to eat them.  I do not care to

make the distinction between

food and pet, so I tend to avoid

the concept of pet when I can.

If I were even present at the

slaughtering, I would eat less flesh

or learn to respectfully participate in

the practice.  What is the stewardship

of the elect in the kingdom?  It has

been to eat without reproach or

consideration.  It is the consideration

creates the question.

All the possible myths of childhood

 

August 14, 2014 (I was 69)

 

All the possible myths of childhood

clicked off like light switches

in the light of day

I never believed in evil beasts

Evil had to be anthropomorphic to be real

Humans with super powers were fun

but on a fundamental level

never more than fictions

It’s the fiction that ruins Jesus

more admirable as man than son of God

God is an even bigger problem

whose existence must comprise the totality of is

perhaps inhabiting a dimension

to dwarf our own

The have fun gang had fun on the way to having fun

 

from this week in August 2014  (I was 69)

 

The have fun gang had fun on the way to having fun

Getting there was half the fun 

The HFG did good if embarrassed into it

did mischief if it could get away with it

never sought to harm or set off the alarm

Steal your crab apples but not break your windows

They had fun at other’s expense

because they had no money to spend

The brief times I’ve done day labor

 

July 27, 2014  (I was 69)

 

The brief times I’ve done day labor

I was underpaid unless hired by a relative

and soon I learned to labor relative to the pay

If you bought my time to bore me

I accepted because I thought the job needed doing

If the work benefited only you

I never took the contract

Never found anyone who could afford me

Teaching was never like that

I often did it for nothing

and that was everything

A fraction of satisfaction is fact

 

July 24, 2014  (I was 69)

 

A fraction of satisfaction is fact

tis a syllabic fracture of an action

an act that’s a type of truth

a faction of veracity I sat on

until it hatched here

The essence of memory recreates the details

 

June 13, 2014 (I was 69)

 

The essence of memory recreates the details

as needed to sustain the story

nuance to ensure the progression of events

will lead to an understanding

of whatever the memory meant

Chips cashed so we can see the money

the pony in the corral at sunset

a reason for the life beneath the tombstone

There is the lost trail in the woods

and there is the bright view from the mountain

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow

 

From this week in 2014  (I was 69) 

 

The first seed of sadness was planted shallow

though the roots of a mother’s lie run deep

Its first flowers are delicate and white

They cool the child’s brow before sleep

We are in his hands it will be all right

So the secret of the Garden lies fallow

 

Dread stalk is a crooked stick

The bent of truth excretes a burl

Stout strength supports a wooden heart

Legend has it hides a pearl

deep within its hardened part

the mother’s milk fed soul of the heretic

What is Cold Mountain

 

December 30, 2014  (I was 70) 

 

The name of the Chinese poet, Han Shan

(writing circa 760-800 AD), translates as

“Cold Mountain”.  The name refers to the poet,

the place he lived and the state of mind expressed

in the poems written in his cave there.

 

What is Cold Mountain

Han Shan is high land under all light

gold land beneath the sun

silver land below moon and stars

It is your name when you are there

your attitude when you are not

Begin with attention to breath

the odor of the air always there

scents come and go upon it

sound of current flows in and out

feel expansion and contraction

sensation of its temperature and force

aromas that entice the tastes

and shiver the skin

dilated pupils let colors in

awaken awareness of being

within the swirling gasses

Brief but steep is the way 

from there the path

downhill to everywhere

Giving was the gift I never had

 

from this week in 2014  (I was 70) 

 

Giving was the gift I never had

What I received I thought I was owed

Though I was the one always in debt

I often reaped what others sowed

 

Told I was the most self-possessed

adopted selective deafness

chose to dismiss the unimpressed

with decisive swiftness

 

Anywhere I was I learned to be alone

In a meeting or celebration

knew how to say nothing well

always found a way to be a stone

Twas the night before the day that came after

 

from this week in 2014  (I was 70) 

 

Twas the night before the day that came after

There was the laughter preceding the disaster

The time when everything seemed to rhyme

We drank our money the evening light and funny

The morning saw the grime and the committed crime

The night before we filled the dance floor

We rolled and we rocked and we sweet talked

In the icy dark we walked each other home

It was two below through new fallen snow

Then we awoke to find it broken

Now hand in hand we ring the toppled dome

Nothing more need be spoken

Yesterday was 12/13/14

 

December 14, 2014  (I was 70)

 

Yesterday was 12/13/14 and all I have

to say about that inevitable mathematical anomaly

is that it was.  People were

co-incidentally born, cleverly married,

ultimately died and sequentially buried.

Remembering the first interior monologues

 

from this week in 2014  (I was 70)

 

Remembering the first interior monologues

speaking to myself from another place

where I and the idea separated

to exist apart within me

Not the other beings in other bodies

to be sorted family friend or stranger

but the other me apart from people

the I who watched me from aside

and spoke at first in simple terms

the decider of real and fairy tale

the arbiter of this or that

who suggested which kind with reasons why

who whispered no and shouted yes

The church said it was the soul’s voice

and said its business was right and wrong

I within said They don’t know the half of it

Stick with me 

 And learn to read

Sui Shan Mai practices acupressure massage

 

from this week 2014  (I was 70)

 

Sui Shan Mai practices acupressure massage

At Zen Wellness center he is called Tommy

to make it easier for American clients to remember.

Even without his name they would remember the massage.

His technique accentuates the pressure.

Finding points in the body where pain resides

he ignites the fire in which healing hides.

He encircles the spot where nerve and muscle knot.

With sparks from his fingers

and the heat of his hands

he makes the ache dissipate.

He opens rusted channels of energy

and my breath like a blacksmith's bellows

blows out across the flame.

I hain’t got the blues; I got to choose

 

November 11, 2014  (I was 69)         

 

I hain’t got the blues; I got to choose

I did what I’s supposed, went undiagnosed

I read the news and formulated views

I opened the door but didn’t rob the store

paid my dues but never lit the fuse

Whole family regressed, I got depressed

I hain’t got the blues, said I got to choose

Didn’t see eye to eye, didn’t dance cheek to cheek

I’s always the guy waitin’ til next week

always saw the muse in pastel hues

through a fog dissolve