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3:20 PM

That parceled out portion of understanding
Failed again this day—
Lost my grasp on the time and missed my
3:18.
It was now after, just by a few minutes.
I’d lost that only one-time unique time.
The loss!
I’d never get that 3:18!
The failure!
How sad.
Like missing an eclipse just outside one’s door
Because the phone rang! Nothing…robocall!
So, on August 26, 2017 at 3:18PM, I was awaste on a rung phone,
And missed a piece of Only Once Ever.

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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….

Skip Skipping

Time is skip slipping
As the rain comes misting down
I think I really like you
With you I can sing and clown
Time is a sore pouring
The wine is half gone
Dance we again across the floor
We spin and spin until half-passed dawn

Time stops stupid short
You skitter sweetly out the door
You seem positively unsure
If you’ll come this way anymore

Time comes to do laundry
Separate the lights from the sweats
But we’d danced so hand-in-glove—
Always seem to lose at these kind of bets

Time for my daily bread work
Cloths are all neatly pressed
On a misty kind of rainy morning
One must always look one’s best

Because when the time seems right and the Sun supershines
The world may yet crash down but you still must work the mines
Wanna dance?

Across Audubon Park

Now I’ve become old
Time has passed and taken hold
Down to the plain nitty gritty
From now on things won’t be so pretty
At least that’s what I’m told

Now I’m taken ill
The future promises a different thrill
Taken to bed feeling low
No one speaks about how this’ll go
Where did I file that Living Will?

Now the days have grown dark
What once was passion is the barest spark
Take my things I need them no more
I’ve deeper mysteries ahead to explore
Sprinkle the remains across Audubon Park

Now I lay me down to slee….

Beware John Warren!

I smell popcorn
Or is it burnt fries
I see John in the Break Room
Telling Katja lies
I smell popcorn
None for me please
Those charred kernels
Knock me to my knees
Offer me popcorn
And please don’t judge
Don’t be offended
If I’d rather wait for fudge
I smell popcorn
Or a whiff of smoke
Beware of John Warren
He’s a Burning Bloke
So if you want popcorn
Of another tasty snack
Please first put out the fire
In our microwave shack

As It Will

Small people, little people
The Wind knows nothing of these
Big times, noble times
The Rains still fill the trees
Grand Love, Heartbreak
Discover your knees
One death, another last breath
Time passes as it will please

A month ends, a new week shines
No right answer calls
Newborn cries, an old lady sighs
A poor candle spits and stalls
Sun glows, Moon rises
Cold blusters thru the walls
A bell rings, the horde finds the access road
Time and midday traffic stalls

Little people, my people
Earthkind teeming all around
Mere races, many-coloured faces
Trying to keep above ground
Have Faith with Freedom to saith~
I disagree with what you propound
Singers spiel, Dancers reel
Look to what Music has found

Another death, one last breath
Time passes as it will please

Etiquette Fail

And so the time has come to go.
Thanks for your time and the Music and the Love;
Wisht I’d better acquitted myself,
And had earned a place up there high above.

But I’s just another fat American
With no one else better to blame;
Like Journalism on the Progressive bias—
All part of the same tired game.

But what are these chest pains:
Signal push-ups or Pearly Gates?
Gotta go to work tomorrow
With a boss who blithely hates.

So, have another glass of merlot—
Twas an unassuming vintage.
But I’ll miss you ever the most:
Thou of sterling mintage.

But it hurts a bit right here,
Around about where my broken heart lies.
Bury me next to Momma or scatter me in Sandbridge;
Try not to mind those nipping sand flies.

But you better not fail me:
You best try to find the Real;
Don’t lie, don’t drug, don’t cheat,
And never, ever lower yourself to steal.

Now, it’s past time to leave.
[Never got that part right]
Adios muchachos,
Bon soir, and good night.

Crosstown

I fell in a hole inside myself*
But I’m looking for the way out.
Here I stand next to you,
Why can’t you hear me shout?
“Hug me! Help me! Like me!”
“Why am I still here?!”
[After all this gnawing time,
Shouldn’t things be more clear?]
Trauma is an overwhelming negative event*
Frozen up in your deep insides*—
Tears are the trauma as it melts,*
Getting better in slips and slides.
I found myself outside my hole
I’m sorry for all the fuss,
But, thanks for just being there
And getting me back on Life’s Crosstown Bus.

* Lines paraphrased from On living with depression and suicidal feelings | Sami Moukaddem | TEDxLAU