poem

Darken not my door again, cursed love.
Bless me not with your smile..I wish it not.
I want not your sympathy or false pity.
Just go to hell and ROT!

You have stolen all from me, cursed love
 You gave me lies and me bound
everything, all that I have loved...
Nothing but fake love, found.

I shan't, any longer, be enchanted,
No more shall I roam in search.
Give me rope and let me dangle
from the tree's highest perch.

My tears are hot and flowing
Do not ask me why
It is just too often
I am forced to say goodbye...

Thought for December 15th

 Autumn attempts to gather her strength for another assault on the southern lands. It will be her last try; she has felt winter stir within her womb and recognizes it is soon time for her long sleep which will, ultimately, result in her reincarnation 9 months in the future. The movement within her has caused her to begin a thoughtful, sad soliloquy, commemorating her victories and defeats. Her voice is a mournful melody, and gently nudges the sky into an impromptu light show, while the Maker releases a torrent of tears upon the dry ground. The Orchestra stirs, woodwinds beginning to play quietly, and prompting the trees into a bit of unrehearsed choreography to their tune.

Autumn’s victory in the north has upstaged her defeats in the south; she is pleased by the wins, but realized that she has, once again, lost the war which she waged upon the south. She sighs.

Our own lives are this way, as well. But all too often, we allow our defeats to take forefront in our lives, rather than focusing on our victories. But shouldn't we put the defeats behind? Do we look at them and mourn, or do we allow the wins to give us fresh eyes with which we can see new paths, new options?

The past is behind us; we must learn the lessons it has taught and slog ahead, through the muck and mire of the future, paving the way for those to come. Yet, even they will not follow the same paths. They will choose different turns, make a wrong turn here and there. It is part of the human experience.

We can only live life to the fullest. We need to be able to look back and say, “I have done my best. I have experienced life, joy, love.” If we cannot do that, we have failed.

May Poetry

No, I'd never limit myself to one specific blog type. I need a place to
Rant and rave, B***h about politics and law, complain about overpopulation,
Express kudos and give canary awards...but poetry (A new poem) is my topic
Today. MAY, of course, is a month I detest. Lots and lots of trouble in May,
and regardless of the birth month of my parents (May) and my wife (May)
-- It's also a month of death, broken bones, bills, and other things I
Would Prefer never to mention. It was the month in which I wrote "Take me to
The Graveyard" and "Goodbye cruel world."
Today, I add to the May list of Poems.
-------------------------------------------------
Amidst the shards of broken dreams,
Shattered hopes, abandoned schemes,
There is a memory that beckons,
Yes, somehow, it does gleam.
A forgotten dream...

A love that could have been and yet was not,
Lost in a land that time forgot
Left to die, and stink, and rot....
Yet, somehow, it does not....
Apparently, dead not!

Some will say "It was just a crush"
True enough, I'll say
Easily dismissed --
Puppy love -- a crazy dream
Heaven without a kiss

Would you have laughed at me, I wonder
At what I then did think?
Your name and mine, in my notebooks
In a heart drawn in ink?
It was the fear --

Fear of being laughed at, being hated,
Being told "GO AWAY."
Heart broken at a tender age,
Oh, what would my classmates say?
Oh, What would you say?

The crush forgot, the years flew by
Of people I lost track
But one returned, and a kind word
Caused the feelings to rush back.
The thoughts came rushing back.

The paths diverged many years ago
They never really met, and they broke clean.
At my age, now, I'm forced to wonder
what really could have been.
Yes, it's true; I'm forced to ponder-- OH, WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN!

Battles with the intolerant

Sure, I admit it.  I'm guilty of intolerance of somethings.  Who isn't?  But I try to be tolerant of people.  When the become rude or insulting, I turn them off.  Simple.  They'll spread lies, rumors...The truth will out.

One fellow on Twitter is giving me a time...doesn't want to talk to GOP, at all...I pointed out some stuff, he responded...I asked for an example of what he was saying.  But he tells me to go look it up.  Well, I don't know what he's thinking about; how am I to look it up?  Why won't he say?  Because, probably, he knows that I'll be able to puncture holes in his argument.  You know the old saying right?  "I've made up my mind, don't confuse me with facts!"

In the spirit, I wrote a short Twitter poem.

Consider it, AS I SEE IT... this little poem about tolerance rings true.

TOLERANCE, TOLERANCE, that is the key.
I tolerate you, but you don't tolerate me.
So, I don't tolerate you, and we have a war....
Soon we're both tolerant, because We are No More.

It's a statement on hatred.  It's a statement on war.  And like it or not, it's the Truth.  Not just the truth as i see it, but a full-fledged universal.  And TRUTH, YES, TRUTH NEVER CHANGES.

I still love poetry.

As many of you have discovered, I am a poet.  I love poetry in almost all forms.  Some I don't understand, so I find it hard to include it on my list.
I love the rhymes, the meters,   I love a good limerick, and naked verses were the first type I did...in a journal, anyway.

This morning gave rise to another.

The morning of the twenty-third,
I heard a silent cry.
"I know that sound," I quietly mused.
"Something had to die."

It was early morning
the sun not yet on the rise.
The night was dark, the stars were out,
but the moon was in disguise.

I opened my door and went outside
while I held my breath,
hoping, somehow, to shield myself
from the prominent smell of death.

But the air was clean and sweet
on this dark and cool night.
But what of the sound, the cry I heard?
Could I have not been right?

The silent cry I heard again.
To find the source, I glanced around.
I saw a single, reddened leaf,
floating gently to the ground.

But in my apprehension,
I felt a twinge of grief...
Could I have really heard the death cry
of a single leaf?

A breeze blew softly through the branches
but with nary another sound
More of the leaves broke off a branch
And floated to the ground.

I realized, then, what I had heard,
It wasn't a leaf's cry.
It was the final cry of summer:
Summer had to die.

As we pass, like Earth, through seasons,
passing swiftly like a fly....
Let's appreciate our summer --
Because our summer, too, has to die.

Poetry, continued.

The illusion of Day has now vanished.
The darkness crept over the wall.
All prayers for mercy and intervention have ceased:
G_d has not answered the call.

Unaware of impending disaster,
The dogs are still chasing their balls.
Ignorant of the coming doom,
The horses return to their stalls.

The phone will not ring, or rings non-stop --
They're not promising calls.
People are still out driving --
All headed to the malls.

The drink before me is bitter, so bitter,
Like wine mingled with gall.
The prayers for mercy and intervention have ceased:
G_d has not answered the call.

Before me, now, the abyss awaits.
Going back cannot be done.
There is no way, at all, to regroup:
The battle's lost; the war can't be won.

I do not know what is worse:
Darkness? Unforgiving sun?
The weight of reality shocks like a taser;
It hits with a terrible stun.

 Although The the children are outside
Playing and having fun;
I still sense reality
The battle's lost; the war can't be won.

Simple justice, from life, is missing
Like jumping from spring right to Fall.
My prayers for mercy and intervention have ceased.
G_d has not answered the call.

So much I miss

Across the nation, thousands of people are losing their homes to foreclosure because of the economy. I'm one of those people. I am being hounded for money that I ain't got, our health (Both of us) is deteriorating, disappointment is everywhere. There is so much I miss.

I miss my old home. I could have been there, not facing problems of foreclosure. I could still be working at the second to last job, possibly earning 15+ an hour. But that depends on whether or not my hearing loss would have cost me the job. It could have.

I miss my parents. Dad gone 15 years, Mom 14.

I miss my hearing. My aid is not working (Need an ear piece and tube), and that's not assuring me of anything. My eyesight is going, too...or so it seems. It's not comforting.

But I think, even with so many losses (house, parents, hearing, eyesight, health in general, wife's health) I think I miss one thing more than anything....

I refer to dreams. I used to have dreams that I pushed to reach, I had goals, I had fantasies.

So many dreams fell by the wayside in the last 30 years. SO MANY. I don't know where to start, or even if I should.

I dreamed of being a musician. I wrote songs (Still do, but it's much harder). I sang. I was in a band, our goals were big. Larry went on to become a who was able to live part of his dream. Jeff disappeared. Dave wasn't really into it, went into accounting.

I became more conservative in my goals, aiming for computer science. Failed miserably. Took up locksmithing, but have never really used it. Instead, I became a nothing. I worked for a music distributor for many years...that's as close as I came to my dream there.

I tried to write. In fact, I finished a novella. But I wasn't able to get the publishing I needed. I continue to work on a new novel, but the lack of success on the first has given me no hope for the second one. It sits, unfinished. And I look at the dream destroyed. What good ARE they, anyway? I mean, really. What good is a dream if you can never fulfill it? It sits as a constant reminder of failure.

Pain is always with me, now. Asthma has taken away my ability to do a lot of things. Hernias have taken away my ability to do heavy lifting. And my hearing loss has taken away my singing... what's left?

It's said that when God closes a door, he opens a window. Unfortunately, my windows are all bricked up. There's no escape from the dismal existence which I now live. Except, of course, through death.

My poem ASHES (Written nearly 25 years ago) pretty much defines it:

The flame in the fireplace has flick'r'd out.

All that's left in sight

are the ashes of the log

which once burned so bright.

The ashes are the last memory

of that forgotten tree. But they

are even more:

Signifying me.

Once I was like that log,

so full of hopes and dreams.

Now all I have is ashes:

Shattered hopes, shattered dreams.

The floor of the fireplace has now been cleaned

ASHES thrown into a can.

And like the hearth is left, I too, am left....

A hollow, empty man.

So much missed. So many dreams destroyed. So much lost -- It's the facts -- As I see it.

Lose my name, lose my number

All my life, I've never been one to hold a grudge. I forgave bullies, heart-breakers. When I got into fights, we worked out our differences. Even when someone wooed a girl I considered to be my future, I tried to put things in perspective. The thing with the guy and gal didn't work out for him. I didn't win her, either. (You could have read about a similar situation. You still can, if you ask me. In fact, you must ask me. Otherwise, you won't get the story.)

Now I'm holding a grudge. It hasn't lessened at all. It has become a staple in my life, holding me together. It has become an intense hatred of the betrayal done to me. I can't think of that person without my anger increasing, without my teeth (or what's left of them) grinding, without making a fist. My friendship with that person is officially over, I will never contact again. In fact, I have severed ties with that family, and any friend of that family which tries to contact me. I do not answer anything that does get through. It has been no loss.

When the betrayal became known, I gave that person a week to come clean, apologize for the behavior. That spineless coward who though "Anonymous betrayal" would work has found out a Biblical truth: There is nothing concealed that shall not be brought to light.

At that time, I wrote a poem. It has morphed a little in the months since. If you would like to read it, I have added it here. BUT BE WARNED: It contains some words that some people would find objectionable. One is a slang word for evil woman, a word meaning "Female dog." It is repeated many times. If you are offended by the use of that word in such a manner, don't read on.

Another is a short form of the word for prostitute, used by many rappers. Again, same warning.

The poem pictures this betraying person as a dominatrix in one spot, a woman who loves being raped. Drug user (by her own admission), raped (ditto), homewrecker, and liar.
I do NOT feel this way about women in general. Only this one.

You have been warned.
Now, if you plan to read on, here is the poem.

Lose my name, lose my number
Hey there, bitch, tell me how you feel...
About the pain you caused me -
Do you feel more "Real"?
You get your jollies causing pain --
Enough to make you smile again?
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

You indulged in Mary Jane --
Only way you could get more pain.
It took you off on a hijacked plane.
Three joints to get ready, Four to go....
Now you gonna go and get some "MO"?
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

Two marriages wrecked, maybe more...
Laughing hard at him when he’s thrown out the door.
The guy was hoping to see much more....
Your Seductive walk, and sexy lie...
Enough to make a grown man cry...
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

You were raped, you say -- it is so plain.
You Enjoyed it! You LOVE Pain!
What's in the corner? A whip and chain?
What did you tell that lucky boy?
To use the real thing or a sex toy?
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

What the Hell did they promise you?
Position? Power? Lots of money, too?
You had your price, I'm sure that's true!
Just what was it you got to lay me low?
Tell me, Bitch! I wanna know!
But As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

You ugly bitch, you filthy ho'
Just one last thing before I go...
I don’t forgive and forget, you know!
The Almighty sticks people like you in Hell.
It's no big thing, You know it well!
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

You betrayed me, that fact remains
You got your jollies from my pains.
You lied about me, you'll lie again!
The Almighty sticks people like you in HELL
It's no big thing, You know it well!
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

In the future that I foresee
This betrayal will forever haunt thee..
Be around to comfort you I will not be!
Retribution swift, and justice sure...
You're a disease, and death's the cure!
As of today, me you'll not encumber.
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

As of today, me you'll not encumber!
I'm telling you bitch:
Lose my name, lose my number!

State Fair Poetry

I've stopped my countdown -- I find I was off anyway. ::sigh::

At this time of year, the MN STATE FAIR is on. And I'm on Twitter.
What I've been doing is writing "Tweet" poetry regarding the fair. There's more to come, but here's what I've done so far -- and one of my sisters tells me it sounds "Burma Shave-ish." Yes, they certainly do.

They all end with the Phrase "State Fair Time", so that will be the name of my collection... IF I can ever get my Emails found. (8-31)
(9-1) Couldn't call up my Email program last night. Finally got it all running again. My poetry follows -- "Tweet" Poetry.
#1
French-fried gator on a stick.
Chocolate covered, make it quick.
Dip it in some transfat, too.
Total cost: $ 5.32
-- State Fair time.
#2
Round and round the tilt-a-whirl.
It's enough to make you hurl.
Have a hot-dog and caramel apple first.
Otherwise, wasted speed burst
--State Fair Time
#3
Out upon the midway here
Hear the voices loud and clear
"Come on folks Come play today"
"Come on: throw your money away"
-- State Fair Time
#4
Up high on the Ferris Wheel,
Look around the dump.
Hope you aren't afraid of heights...
It breaks down, you bungee jump!
--State Fair Time.
#5
Ketchup and mustard on a pronto-pup
Dip in horse radish from a plastic cup
let it drip upon your shoe
I got heartburn now, don't you?
--State Fair Time!
#6
Sitting by the Radio booth
Listen to 'em stutter.
Just sit there, quietly,
And enjoy your Deep-Fried Butter.
--State Fair Time.
#7
Get in line, and wait--
Enjoy an Ice Cream cone.
In a couple of hours, oh so late...
You MIGHT get to use the throne.
--State Fair Time
#8
Grandstanding for hours.
Watch the cars a race.
You can sit there through the showers.
Why don't you your kid a chase?
--State Fair Time
#9
Another night of Fireworks
Boy, they're sounding great.
Is that really fireworks echoing?
Or is it something that you ate?
--State Fair Time.

The trick of "Tweet" Poetry -- ridicule something in 140 letters or less. "State Fair Time" is just an additional piece which sometimes sticks you over the limit. But it's still good.

It makes no difference which way you think you're going.

Today's number is 51250.

It makes no difference what you do. The result is always the same. You can spend hours slaving away at a job, the result is the same: You wind up owing more than you make.

You can disconnect your phone: The bill collectors will be on your doorstep.

You can travel East as far as you want, but you'll end up right where you began.

If you drive too far, without stopping, you'll burn out your engine, blow a tire, or run out of gas.

It doesn't matter how you live your life. Be a noble gent, or a sophiscated lady. Be a thief or murderer. It doesn't matter. We all wind up in the same hole. 6 feet down, or in a box in a wall (If we're lucky) It's the true view of a Realist.

You've heard that every dark cloud cloud has a silver lining, right? The optimist sees the silver lining, and the pessimist sees the dark cloud? NOPE. The REALIST sees the cloud. The Pessimist sees himself stuck polishing the lining.
Such is my view in "A Pessimist's view on Life."

Give heed, ye people, to the frown on my face,
and hear me as I state my case.
The silver lining is TARNISHED in that dark cloud
and there are weeds growing in the field just plowed.
The crops all failed 'ere they started to grow;
the rivers are flooded by both rain and snow.
All of this under a threat of war, but don't stop now
'cuz there is still more.

From the beginning of our years,
we are told things to add to our fears.
"It's warming up! The Ozone is gone!"
"Our water's been poisoned from the stuff from our lawn."
"Our Air is now DEADLY," or so they say.
"Our rain is taking our plant life away."

"Give it to God!" cries the preacher.
"God is dead," says the teacher.
"Just look around, and what do you see?
Crime, disease, hunger, war, poverty!
Even our food can kill us now.
So why do we bother to take up the plow?"

We ask, "Is love real, or simply a ghost?
It's ne'er found by those who need it the most."
Finally, the greatist evil of all:
Death takes everyone, both great and small.
Yes, we're all touched by sorrow
by pain, and by strife.
So what good, oh what good,
is this miserable life?

Think about it. It's the world- As I see it.

A Franken Limerick for those of you who hate Franken!

There once was a farmer named Zane,
Who said "It's truly a pain!
Franken in senate?
Sure as my name is Bennett,
This world is GOING INSANE!"

Limerick #2

Franken performed a mad dash
While Coleman ran out of Cash
Minnesotans should fear
That the end is now near.
Their money's thrown into the trash!

Take me to the Graveyard

I am a poet. I've done many types, styles. Poetry isn't just rhyming. It is what you FEEL. And that's the case.

I've had ECHOES OF SILENCE published, as well as OPPOSITES.
po
Many of my poems deal with darkness, and depression, and death.

My most recent effort, called "Take me to the Graveyard" deals in the same manner.

It's good to let things out -- even though the "others" may classify you unstable.



Take me to the graveyard. Take me there today.
I'm tired of life's hassles, I'm tired of the pain.
Place me down in darkness, whither I shall go,
Place me down in darkness, six feet below.

At one time life had promise, each day was new to me.
There were new adventures, new people I could see.
Pain was just a concept, as abstract as could be
I could not know the bowels of Hell would be receiving me.

Everything that I held dear has been yanked from me.
Everything I had is gone: House, friends, and family.
Even my beloved pets have turned their backs on me.
Pain's no longer just a concept; it's harsh reality.

Take me to the graveyard. Take me there today.
I'm tired of life's hassles, I'm tired of the pain.
Place me down in darkness, whither I shall go,
Place me down in darkness, six feet below.

There are vultures on the roof: the wolf is at the door.
My clothes are all in tatters, there's water on the floor.
The pain of whips, the trials of life, have left me beaten, sore.
End my suffering, today, I plead. Don't make me ask for more.

At the gates of Hell I wait, where My new home is.
I can't deny the losses, I can't deny what is.
My new home's in darkness, and it's where I'll be.
And there at the gates of Hell, I will wait for thee.

Take me to the graveyard. Take me there today.
I'm tired of life's hassles, I'm tired of the pain.
Place me down in darkness, whither I shall go,
Place me down in darkness, six feet below.

Take me to the graveyard. Take me there today.
I'm tired of life's hassles, I'm tired of the pain.
Place me down in darkness, whither I shall go,
Place me down in darkness, six feet below.