Monday, June 18, 2018

Jesters and Psychopaths





Life. Kinda' the ultimate distraction, isn't it? It's not like I've got better things to do. I always thought that villains didn't really exist, that grownups knew better. Now I watch this orange ogre and this hillbilly imp stealing children as though they were staging some Brothers Grimm fairy tale and I cry myself to sleep.

Sometimes I wish I believed in heaven.

Today I wish I believed in hell.








Saturday, June 16, 2018

War Games






Sometimes I wonder, "Why do I waste my time on this dribble?"

"Why do I preach as though I have something important to say?"

Well, sir, here's what it's all been building to. Little boys play war. In my culture we played cowboys and Indians. We coveted toy guns and we set ants on fire with magnifying glasses. Me? I saw "To Hell and Back" seven times.

On the other hand, I have always favored pink shirts. I did mention that I was raised by women, didn't I? Strong women. Loving women. Smart women.

Now, here I am- an old man. Oh, I've always had the nerve to speak up. It just takes some time to get the words in order.

Do everything in your power to stop war. All war.

Help the ones who can't help themselves, human and otherwise.

Ignore false prophets. They will make themselves obvious.

That's about it, my beautiful friends. Love with all your heart. That green paper and that shiny metal are tricks. If these bozos think that they own land, well, I'll dance at their funerals. 

When you find someone who tells you the truth, slap him on the back. Give her a kiss. As him to dance.




The Devil's Makeup






Here I sit counting breaths and thinking in rhyme, trying to keep it in waltz time. It has taken me this long to figure out that there's no such thing as good luck or bad luck. It's all just life. You live for a while and you die. It ain't rocket surgery.

Remember those old bumperstickers, "He who dies with the most toys wins?"

Well, no, if you're not older than Pythagoras, you don't.

Fact is, love hard, love often, love unconditionally- you win.




Friday, June 15, 2018

What Rhymes With Moon?








There are days when I'm sure that all the songs have been written. Sometimes I worry that I wore out this old heart several romances back. It's been out of warranty for years.

Oh, I'm not complaining. If I were famous, they would kill me. 

If you take yourself seriously, you're a fool. On the other hand, nobody's better than you. Use your love to fix things.





Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Buttoned Lips






All my ends are dead and I'm searching for a pulse. All these living things need love and here I am with a heart full of it. It seems to be a supply and demand problem.

Having never fallen out of love and having never fixed a broken heart, I've built a tower of sad that is a monument to loneliness. Maybe it's all for a song.

Pray for peace. Search for truth.







Thursday, June 7, 2018

Rambunctious





If you put life's parts together wrong, you have drama. Unfortunately, there are no printed directions. Well, that's not altogether true. They're out there but how do you know where to find them?

Fragility is not really an attractive trait, is it?

Stiff upper lip and all, right? It's Ms. Gore's party and I'll cry if I want to.





Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Three Eyed Jacks






Low expectations, that's the key. I've never wanted anything that I didn't get and what did it ever get me? Now I've run outta' stuff to want.  

When I was a kid I would sit for hours poring over the Sears & Roebuck catalog. I would mentally select one item from every page for each member of my extended family. Mom, Grandma, cousins, all the aunts and uncles. Sometimes friends, neighbors and great aunts and uncles.

It was a disciplined exercise. I wouldn't allow myself to skip a page. Of course I was always aware that Murray Jr. didn't need anything from ladies' lingerie and that Aunt Pauline had almost no interest in baby chicks.

When I think about the hours that went into this endeavor, I'm reminded that I could have amounted to more with a little direction.

My big plan was a commune. Still is, I suppose. Funny- this old man who lives alone and has gotten comfortable at a table for one has always wanted to live with everyone. I want all the dogs and cats, too.

In college I took a course, Idea of Utopia, in the Ideas Department. Everybody else understood that it was a literary class. I thought it was some kind of vocational thing.

I was never like the others. Never will be. When friends try to be kind in explaining my personality, they tell me, " She just doesn't get you." They've been telling me that for years. I've just begun to catch on.