The Night Joe Left

October 2, 2008

Joe asks me
to stay,
to keep
the earthly vigil
into this night.

He speaks no words;
nor do his eyes
look upon me.
No one knows
except he
and I.

This father cannot
take leave of his family
while lying helpless –
unable to whisper
“don’t worry”
unable to say
goodbye.

exhausted,
the others begin
to go home.

It will be better
this way.
I the sentry
who falls asleep,
he the spirit who sheds
this breaking body.
this sweet life…

Joe continues to stare
at a ceiling he does not see
while his inner core
prepares for
departure.

Across the hall
irritated alarms split
the midnight silence
as some poor soul
gets up to
wander.

tell him
he can go – it is okay
to go.

Sitting in the visitor’s chair
at three
a.m.
I fall
victim
to
the
mathematical
drone
of
the
oxygen
machine…

Soon
after,
he presses my shoulder.

I awaken.

He is gone.

All that is required –
blind obedience

to the keepers
of the “truth”.

Belief in the The Apocalypse of John posits peace as unattainable
until the second coming of Christ.

Until there is a worldwide conflagration and a Christ based theocracy –
peace is considered impossible.

How can Armageddonists conduct sane foreign policy when they believe in such inevitabilities?


Armageddon Oops

September 25, 2008

What if bricks fly
like leaves in a hurricane

cellos burn like straw

fingers like napalm

lips like tissue.

Will you hail
the second coming?

In the middle of town they stood on each corner
yelling words they believed to be God’s.
Their silent wives held signs as if crosses.
The pictures of Jesus dripped Ashouran blood.

Yet another tear parade.
(We have all been wronged.)

Mohammad and Jesus in an elevator stuck.
Would they battle or avoid the others’ eye?
Embrace as a force of love?
Divide the world like bloody soul pie?

I would bet on love.
I would bet on love again.

Dying in some cesspool place
no chance to embrace YOUR divinity.
Condemned by GOD to more suffering,
I want no part of such DEITY.

Change in Plans

September 23, 2008

I intended to read it and post my review of the book Delivered from Distraction by Edward M. Harwell M.D. and John J. Ratey M.D. – but I never got around to it.

Booed at Poetry Reading

September 22, 2008

It looked friendly enough.


Even downright hospitable.


The crowd seemed attentive during my first 30 poems.




But they didn’t seem to like number 31.




Or number 32 for that matter.


Soon after, they stormed the stage and I fled.

Sure we wanted our vengeance.
But it wasn’t all black and white.

Our leaders had but one vision
through the eye of a gunner’s sight.

nine was was

September 11, 2008

It seemed a time of respect.

Skies were skies,

no chalky lines
of jet smoke –

only bird and cloud and flag.

Terrorism
was not yet entertainment.

Booty and bullets
disappeared from the screen.

Reflection and restraint
seemed a collective value.

Never to return,

we lived briefly
in the eye of chaos.

fear enslaves us

September 11, 2008

each place –
its own box
of terror.