Tag Archives: poetry

Creation

I stand in the shadowy late hours

one flat foot

disoriented

my kidneys dwindling fast

maybe

my life would have been better spent in front of a television set

It seems that I can not resist

I must slug through the horrors of dark daily chores

In hope

of a few hours

of clear headed creativity

I take it as it comes

It can not be tricked

as if by a thief

lured like a lover

trapped like an animal

or snared by Magick

as though

It were a spirit or a demon

It comes as it chooses

It gives what it will

all one can do is practice

hone their meager skills

so when it comes they will be ready

as vacant as life can be

this capricious giver of gifts

laughing chooses with out reason

It will come

and when it touches you

If it touches you

If you be ready

It will touch you again

Sometime

Enlightened

We study words written

a piece of tapestry

A fragment from the long forgotten

Through eyes

with lenses trained by today

They struggle to see

Blinded by the brilliant moment

The Dragon, Lion and Camel

humbled

before a child

unable to stand or speak

wide waiting for the moment of creation

to be taught

or untaught

There is much talk

about the long road

many claim to see the end

of the impossible

a treacherous journey

Where am I along this road?

Is it paved, gravel, a trail or trace?

against the earth or sky

they claim to see backwards

they will show you

for the price of a paperback

or your soul

It seems no one truly knows

in the end

we each must decide

our own next step

Intangible

Tangibility is the key

give it a number

weigh it

measure it

run some electric through it

Does it react?

Misbehave?

Get angry?

The Intangible carries no weight

An assembly of numbers

is still responisible

somehow

as though

The subtle might have a say

Even though it is not

This is

We are

That is an uncomfortable question

Cash

Questions and guns

both can be loaded

one kills

leaving the queries unanswered

Argument begins

It is only a matter of time

Words twist

Ideas cock

That’s the logic

that leads me into a corner

There we find a trap

The electronic cage

Anxiety driven conflict

My mind might

avoid the social rage

Then I find myself torn

between German thrift

and

lavish love of liquid money

The Dirty Joke by Meta

As a child it was not uncommon for an older youth to ask if I wanted to hear a dirty joke – After my affirmative answer the response would come – “A pig fell into a mud puddle” followed by a hard laugh on their part while I thought it was stupid and that it wasn’t really even a joke.

I was just 14 years old and in my bed when my grandfather came to visit with my parents over hard drinks.  With my bedroom door open and at the top of the stairs I could clearly hear my light hearted grandfather tell the first real dirty joke I had ever heard.

It went something like this…

A young couple were out parking in their car and began fooling around.  As they became heated up a police man pulled up beside them and they were arrested.

They were put into adjoining jail cells for safe keeping and left alone while their parents were sent for.  Soon the couple were billing and cooing through the thin wall between them and they heated up again.Then the boy took out his pocket knife and carved a hole in the wall with instructions to her that he was going to stick “IT” through so she could hop on and they could have their fun.

That worked.

He told her that any time she wanted more she was to rap on the wall three times.

Meanwhile her father had arrived, picked up his daughter and the maid was sent in to clean the cell.  As she brought in her cleaning supplies – her mop fell and struck the wall three times.  As he stuck “IT” through the hole in the wall.  The maid yelled, “Eek!,  A bald headed mouse.”

That became my vision of a man’s thingy(?) until I had experiences of my own.

Meta Q.