Forgiving Father Marvelous
Moving down the page
At an acceptable change of pace,
We were so kind of in love,
Though I seem to have misplaced her face.
But I’m sure she was brunette
And possessive of wit and lust,
But like most of my choices
It all kinda went for spit and bust.
So here I write Saharan poetry—
Dry and empty as this Austin life.
Hoping better for the kid unit;
Truth oft separates like a steak fat knife.
No, no deep answers here:
Just marooned on the less traveled.
Awaiting that unadorned underbox
Overlaid in Southern granite that’s neatly marbled.
Just Wanna Go Home
Dead sons of Abraham
3 by 3 in the ground
Take me home
Unloved furbabies
Unclaimed in the pound
Take me home
White House shake up
Wiped the slate clean
Get me home
Peninsula missiles aiming
Making for an aloha obscene
Get me home
It’s the Age of Incompetence—
No one’s in charge
The media will surely report
With Veracity, by-and-large
Just wanna go home
Mixed Emotions
Mixed emotions swirl
Then fall down
And curl
Another merlot-fueled atrocity
Masquerading as inspired verse
But it’s far from free random
Something much much worse
Second glass empties
Begs a refill—
Yes, please
A young Friday evening
Perseverating in isolation
I’d love to have a date
But that requires some ambulation
The ringer on mute
A cell insolent,
No pursuit
A Facebook lovely in Killeen
How to make a connection?
So many never-never starts,
Dust-in-sprinkles wet the imagination
Mixed emotions weigh
Then slip off
Anyway
Double Dressed
Didn’t die for my country:
Would it help if I were more Hispanic?
Seems we’re all supposed to hate trumps;
Should I need to be more trytophannic?
Mad at me, mad at you—
Not the least bit “Chosen”.
Forget you, it’s not about me:
How long has your heart been frozen?
Let’s converse.
Find a way inside.
Do you still sleep alone?
Is there room by your side?
So many “fat-is-cool” shows,
And the stars’ car’s windows are all blacked out.
Define for me small-n Normal.
All cogent sides seem to have little doubt.
And a lady goes to Mexico;
Fishheads mingle in the sweet surreal.
Wanna live next to some boiled crawfish:
Why sucha big freaking’ deal?
You can have me with a dance at the Columns
Or a double oyster dressed from Domilise’s.
Let’s zydeco across lawn at Cyprimont Point.
You’re so pretty, so say all your nieces!
Everybody just wants to go home
Everybody just wants to go home:
After the single man’s bees swarm;
Just get me back home:
Free from all God’s cold, low harm.
Everyone just wants out;
Just to get away,
Back to one’s bed sheets comfort,
And then tomorrow we can all together go play.
So, you know about happy?
May I borrow some of yours?
I’ve forgotten the feel
Of love glowing on rented, carpeted floors.
Shouldn’t be any killing in baseball,
Just swinging for the fence:
Ask me, where is happiness—
Residing somewhere secure in someone else’s past tense?
O there’s gratitude and sure appreciation,
Even glimpses of joy and even the spice of elation;
But just to be, just simply, quietly, happy;
I wish I could testify, make some sure attestation.
But where to find a bit of happy—
Can I borrow some of yours?
Why do you stare so dismissively,
With a look that quite thoroughly deplores,
And leaves me craving for a remembered serendipity?
Just get me back on home,
Back in my small bedroom secure
When tomorrow in the muggy dawn’s early light
I can pretend all is well by not recalling anything of her.
So, you know about happy?
Have you any you might lend?
Tomorrow just gets further and further away
And my New Orleans home is just past around another next bend.
Invisible
I’m invisible,
No one sees me there;
Yes I’m invisible;
They can’t know how I hurt or that I care.
No I’m invisible,
Everyone can see right thru;
Just a wisp in the periphery
Lingering in shades of blue.
Are you invisible?
Where can you be?
Are you lonely too?
Would you like to get lost with me?
I am so invisible,
No one knows how if I care;
All can’t help but look on thru
As I fade away into the thinning Summer air.
Musing
You asked of late how I was,
I failed to answer.
I was in the company of Misery,
But not to fret;
Misery has been my companion long these short 62 years.
We are old close-kept friends,
But such marvelous blues:
Steel, royal, sky, ice, midnight,
And the pale blue-white of late sunset:
A miserable color as neither pure nor hearkening of dark.
But my friend—
I am well enough to run a half-mile
And smart enough to take a dosage of sufficient aspirin;
I no longer hurt so much,
But for the loneliness.
Misery shares such liberally with me,
We both explore the Small Empty.
In the fullness of Time I have shared great times
And small reverses with co-workers and patients and their families,
But no more.
I’m in between opportunities,
So I remain,
Yours truly,
Musing….
See You On Down The Road
Made it back home
Between the here and gone
Left the hugs all alone
And then cogitated on them tears
So many beautiful spirits
Sitting right next to you
If you’d only let a clue
In through all those clutched tainted years
Finished the timesheet
Liz needs them in by noon
As Love walks in cartoon—
Hey, that Guinness makes some handsome beers
Allman Brothers swear its true
Twixt the done and the doggone
Tangled up in the lost and the only one
Have you really met your peers?
But the neurosis pales in the wash
And now sitting alone all by myself
It’s not so bad up here on the shelf
I’ve a smitten merlot, cheers!
–last day FullTime Social Worker at hospice. Moving on….
Kitt