tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-126249922024-03-13T20:48:39.455-07:00I Hate Poetry: The Buddah Moskowitz Archive"These aren't poems. They're more like speeches from a movie that will never be made."Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.comBlogger920125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-31976062257477400072023-10-04T15:59:00.003-07:002023-10-04T16:00:41.680-07:00Hopefulness<p><span style="font-size: medium;">Cynicism</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">is the most unforgiving</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">proof of gravity.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I arrive at</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">the pinnacle </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">of the Hill of Hope,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and I stayed up there </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">for a minute,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">catching my breath,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">basking in </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">the infinite blue above </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">and the intricate gray below.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As I stood there</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">high above the doubt</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I struggled to conquer,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">gusty winds </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">threatened my balance </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">trying to throw me</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">back down</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">to negativity,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">nihilism and inertia.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Although it may</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">temporarily topple me,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I know my purpose:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">hopefulness</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">remains the duty of anyone</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">-everyone-</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">who possesses it,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">to be its evangelist,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">a star in the darkness,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">an embrace for the weary,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">the gentle voice saying</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">“come in.”</span></p><div><br /></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-56247221542449449892023-09-13T13:31:00.002-07:002023-09-13T14:08:06.673-07:00The Unforgiving and Indifferent Sun<p> </p><p class="MsoNoSpacing">I’ve been acclimating myself<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">to this suburban desert<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">since I migrated here<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">30 years ago<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">to take this job <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">in academia.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">In August’s stifling heat <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I imagine<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">my Mexican ancestors<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">physically laboring <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">under the unforgiving and indifferent sun,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">silently bemoaning <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">their plight to God<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">(who else could care?),<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">and I am privately shamed <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">by how disconnected I am <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">from them <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">as I sit in my air-conditioned<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">third-floor, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">corner office <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">comfort,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">vaingloriously<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">pecking at this keyboard,</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">trying to write <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Poetry.<o:p></o:p></p>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-81444410324023369422023-05-22T16:26:00.007-07:002023-05-22T16:33:20.852-07:00Pandemic HoodieAs the world changed <div>overnight </div><div>like a tidal wave </div><div>of unseen particulates </div><div>whose weight
threatened </div><div>to topple
everything. </div><div><br /></div><div>I retreated to </div><div>the corner of my house </div><div>with the laptop </div><div>and worked from home </div><div>unsure of our </div><div>collective
tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>That winter </div><div>I remember </div><div>it always seemed </div><div>cold and gray </div><div>and I would reach </div><div>for
the oversized, </div><div>worn and faded </div><div>navy blue
zippered hoodie </div><div>that I rarely wore. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was less a hoodie </div><div>than it was a blanket </div><div>of normalcy, </div><div>a reminder
of better days. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wrapped myself in it </div><div>and cried, </div><div>despaired, </div><div>hid and </div><div>generally
kept working, </div><div>often pulling the hood
down </div><div>over my eyes, </div><div>as would a monk </div><div>serving
penance </div><div>for a crime </div><div>he didn’t commit. </div><div><br /></div><div>The hoodie became </div><div>a second skin, </div><div>dependable, protective </div><div>and perpetually wrinkled </div><div>(like my own skin), </div><div>and I spent months </div><div>soaking up all
that </div><div>loose, sloppy security. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mercifully, </div><div>time didn’t stop, </div><div>vaccines arrived, </div><div>virus transmission slowed </div><div>and I began breathing
easier. </div><div><br /></div><div>The world began </div><div>resembling
something </div><div>post-pandemic, </div><div>and I realized
that my hoodie, </div><div>worn out from use, </div><div>full of holes yet holy, </div><div>my 100% cotton talisman, </div><div>was no longer
necessary. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as simply </div><div>as it was announced, </div><div>the national emergency
ended: </div><div><br /></div><div>I made it </div><div>through
the pandemic </div><div>without getting infected, </div><div>where so many others </div><div>had not. </div><div><br /></div><div>I quietly thanked God </div><div>for my health, </div><div>for the vaccine, </div><div>for my enormous good fortune </div><div>but mostly </div><div><br /></div><div>for the pandemic hoodie.
</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-6343840363063163442022-11-17T09:42:00.003-08:002022-11-28T15:19:07.208-08:00The Undercover Chicano Speaks (Day 17 Prompt: Risk) <div style="text-align: left;">In the hierarchy<br />of White racism<br />I see <br />two distinct reactions:</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <br />first,<br />there is hard hatred<br />against Black skin<br />and those who <br />inhabit it,<br />the blacker the skin,<br />the more virulent<br />the animus, and<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">second,<br />there is soft hatred<br />against those<br />who are off-white,<br />of which I am<br />one.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Since I am not<br />as dark as others, <br />I do not endure the same <br />wrath as they do,<br />but don't think<br />this is any kind </div><div style="text-align: left;">of protection.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I am <br />fair-skinned,<br />the White racists<br />sometimes forget<br />that I am non-White</div><div style="text-align: left;">and let me see <br />who they really are</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">-in all their </div><div style="text-align: left;">entitled ignorance and ignominy-</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />and I can test <br />in real-time<br />whether their <br />words and actions <br />align <br />into ethical integrity.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This perspective<br />is a blessing,<br />and the finding<br />is often a curse,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but that's the risk </div><div style="text-align: left;">you take</div><div style="text-align: left;">when you're </div><div style="text-align: left;">the Undercover Chicano. </div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-48879684160220496722022-11-16T07:50:00.002-08:002022-11-17T08:01:54.371-08:00The Best English Teacher I Ever Knew (unprompted)<div style="text-align: left;">"I wanted to say<br />that Bob Tomes<br />was the best English teacher<br />I ever knew<br />because he was <br />encouragring<br />to the point of <br />indulging me<br />and my unreachable dream<br />of being a playwright.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He was kind and funny <br />and didn't take himself <br />too seriously<br />and let his students <br />do the same.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">More than anything else<br />he treated me like<br />a peer,<br />an equal, <br />-which I <br />clearly <br />was not-<br />but this led me <br />to believe <br />someday <br />I could become<br />someone he read<br />and admired.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Yes, so if I felt this<br />way about him<br />as a student,<br />I can only imagine</div><div style="text-align: left;">what it would<br />have been to be <br />his son.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm so sorry<br />for your loss, Jay,<br />and I'm also sorry<br />I didn't get a chance<br />to say these things <br />to your dad<br />before he died."<br /></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-82840831194716691112022-11-15T16:33:00.000-08:002022-11-15T16:33:01.486-08:00No Poem (For D'Verse Prompt)<p>No future </p><p>no past</p><p>no hunger</p><p>no fast</p><p><br /></p><p>no sadness </p><p>no joy</p><p>no girl</p><p>no boy</p><p><br /></p><p>no music</p><p>no silence</p><p>no kindness</p><p>no violence</p><p><br /></p><p>no blessing</p><p>no hex</p><p>no longing</p><p>no sex</p><p><br /></p><p>no this</p><p>no that</p><p>no dog </p><p>no cat</p><p><br /></p><p>no one </p><p>no call</p><p>no nothing</p><p>that’s all. </p><p>[Posted for <a href="https://dversepoets.com/2022/11/15/no-vember/ ">https://dversepoets.com/2022/11/15/no-vember/ </a>]</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-81629854060559669302022-11-14T16:11:00.002-08:002022-11-15T16:14:07.190-08:00Playwright Story (Day 14 prompt: "blank" Story)<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I wanted to be a playwright</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">which gave me the first taste of </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">playing God,</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">fixing the problems </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in my real life with </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">imaginary characters.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My plays had great </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">dialogue</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">but terrible plotlines </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">because I could never figure out </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">how to end the story.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I just liked being </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in the moment</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">one person </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">communing,</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">communicating </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">with another. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I tried five times</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and finally quit</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and this is why </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am here </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">doing this </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">now.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I no longer</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">play God </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">nor do I want to,</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and I am </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">ever surprised </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">by the endings</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">written for me. </span></p><p style="height: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />x</span></p>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-50740682220886389782022-11-13T07:50:00.002-08:002022-11-14T14:04:18.810-08:00The Sign-Off (Day 13: didn't write to prompt)<div style="text-align: left;">In a previous media world<br />before the existence of <br />the 24-hour broadcast day,<br />television represented <br />a stable world to me.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I thought </div><div style="text-align: left;">everything in the world </div><div style="text-align: left;">shut down <br />when the stations </div><div style="text-align: left;">signed off for the night.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I imagined the lonely<br />tape operators <br />playing the </div><div style="text-align: left;">canned messages telling everyone <br />about the end of broadcast day</div><div style="text-align: left;">and imbued it with a gray </div><div style="text-align: left;">duty-bound romance.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If I ever stayed up late<br />to see it,<br />it was oddly comforting <br />to hear the sermonette </div><div style="text-align: left;">or other words of wisdom,</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <br />and them the Star-Spangled Banner <br />then came <br />the unceremonious </div><div style="text-align: left;">disorienting signal loss <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and the loss of connection <br />to the rest of the world</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and my world became unstable<br />again<br />until the <br />next broadcast day.<br /><br /><br /></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-52265262149572708842022-11-12T07:54:00.001-08:002022-11-14T07:55:26.665-08:0056 Days in the Time Machine (Prompt 12: Time/Future)<div style="text-align: left;">Every year<br />starting November 12 <br />and ending January 6<br />I allow myself<br />to linger in the <br />time machine of <br />Christmas music.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It is one of the few<br />lifelong continuities<br />still comforting<br />this solitary soul,<br />with visions of warmth,<br />togetherness and love.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Images of people long gone,<br />places long forgotten<br />and things I thought were important,<br />softly bubble up through <br />my memory like a slowly<br />cooking stew.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I forget where I am<br />and remember <br />where I was,<br />who I was<br />and am thankful <br />for this awareness<br />and the familiar glow<br />of hopefulness at <br />Christmastime.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-9675535072029601772022-11-11T08:35:00.002-08:002022-11-12T08:38:31.732-08:00The Uncontrollable Teardrop (Day 11 prompt: fear)<div style="text-align: left;">The fear is not<br />secret,<br />we broadcast it <br />by our avoidance.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our fear is <br />the uncontrollable teardrop.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We are trained to be <br />strong<br />in-control<br />impenetrable,<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">but<br />when we fail,<br />then comes the deluge,<br />untamed and embarrassing.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our species <br />will not survive<br />without a radical rethink <br />of male tears.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />One properly placed<br />teardrop<br />might be all it takes<br />to bring down the<br />patriarchy.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Why do you think<br />The Male Code<br />is so strongly guarded?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Tears make us <br />human,<br />and humanity makes us equal,<br />and there is no hierarchy, <br />no property ownership,<br />no power differential <br />in humanity.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />The uncontrollable teardrop<br />can change us<br />from machines back into<br />people again.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-66150769957903045332022-11-10T18:09:00.001-08:002022-11-11T18:12:08.706-08:00The Struggle to Walk over Burning Coals (Day 10 prompt: Struggle)It is a s<span style="font-family: inherit;">truggle <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">to walk over burning coals <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">when we do not expect it <br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to hurt.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We struggle when<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">we don't accept things<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">as they are.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Life is difficult <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">when </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">we fight </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the universe<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">fate</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">or anything else<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">we have no control over.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When we try<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">to resist the <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">will of the universe, </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">or fate<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the will of <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">something greater,<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">plan for a struggle.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, it's easier </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to change our way,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">than it is </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">to change</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the will of the universe,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">or fate, </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">or </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">the will of </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">something greater. <br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Try to remember </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">you can only change<br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">what you have </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">some control over.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Let go </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">of everything else,<br /></span>and most of the struggles</div><div style="text-align: left;">will go with it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then</div><div style="text-align: left;">your next challenge </div><div style="text-align: left;">will be </div><div style="text-align: left;">staying clear </div><div style="text-align: left;">of the burning coals</div><div style="text-align: left;">in your path.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-23152864717303060532022-11-09T07:44:00.001-08:002022-11-10T07:45:19.519-08:00The Nose of the Matter (Day 9 Prompt: Blank of the Blank)<div style="text-align: left;">Every night <br />when I emerge from the shower,<br />hair wet and thinning</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I see your face<br />in the mirror:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the unembarrassed scalp,<br />the big, unforced smile,<br />the shnozzola.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, I am my father's son<br />and with every day<br />I am happier <br />about this fact.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-79052483415579681162022-11-08T12:09:00.001-08:002022-11-11T18:13:38.256-08:00Kisses (Day 8 prompt: form, haiku)Cold, dark steel-gray sky<div>Down come countless wet kisses</div><div>Wash away the pain.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-81255653452866843272022-11-07T08:15:00.004-08:002022-11-09T14:12:36.413-08:00 This Adaptable Heart (Day 7 prompt: Adapt)<div style="text-align: left;">This heart continues beating<br />as if it was only <br />an internal perpetual motor<br />without memory.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It breaks often- <br />sometimes of my own doing,<br />sometimes it is broken for me-<br />but it still continues,<br />hopeful,<br />encouraging<br />and unstoppable.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She broke my heart,<br />it kept going.<br />God took my father<br />it kept beating.<br />I walked away <br />defeated<br />and it never abandoned me.<br />I fail <br />and heaped scorn and shame<br />upon myself,<br />and yet it is still here.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday,<br />I lost my wedding band<br />and I fear it is gone for good.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My heart broke<br />but it never stopped.<br />It just kept going while<br />I took the time </div><div style="text-align: left;">and accepted the inevitable.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This heart I carry</div><div style="text-align: left;">is my reminder<br />to keep pushing on <br />while I still can,<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and trust that it will<br />still be there,<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">always working,<br />always helping,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my trusted friend. <br /></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-4741290473209764632022-11-06T08:42:00.001-08:002022-11-07T08:48:52.304-08:00None of this is New (Day 6 Prompt: News)There is <div>nothing new </div><div>under the sun,</div><div><br /></div><div>except us</div><div>and our </div><div>consciousness.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Stoics believed</div><div>no man steps </div><div>into the same stream </div><div>twice. </div><div> </div><div>So, </div><div>the words may be new,</div><div>but the themes are</div><div>unchanging and</div><div>universal:</div><div><br /></div><div>desire</div><div>greed</div><div>avarice</div><div>tragedy</div><div>pain</div><div>struggle.</div><div><br /></div><div>We change </div><div>and the world changes</div><div>and none of this is </div><div>new,</div><div><br /></div><div>except </div><div>this </div><div>very </div><div>moment</div><div>and </div><div>everything</div><div>it </div><div>touches.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-750362342670665522022-11-05T08:33:00.002-07:002022-11-07T11:15:09.858-08:00This is Not a Test (Day 5 Prompt: Peril)<div style="text-align: left;">THIS IS NOT A TEST.<br />THIS IS NOT A REALITY TV SHOW.<br />THIS IS AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT.<br />THIS IS NASCENT FASCISM.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Democracy is in peril.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a democracy<br />your vote is the great equalizer,<br />not wealth,<br />not education,</div><div style="text-align: left;">not skin color.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Do not vote for someone <br />who wants to take away <br />your right to vote. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Reminds me of a<br />sign in my dentist's office:<br />ignore your teeth <br />and they'll go away.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If we <br />ignore democracy<br />we do so <br />at our own <br />peril.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-85947628250438738022022-11-04T08:30:00.003-07:002022-11-07T11:17:12.578-08:00In the Garage (Day 4 Prompt: In The ...)<div style="text-align: left;">In the garage<br />in my cannabis haze<br />in the memory of a love song<br />in the embrace of my girl<br />in our 20 year marriage<br />in a world I never dreamt possible<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">in love. </div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-89106786394503641322022-11-03T08:02:00.003-07:002022-11-07T11:21:40.912-08:00Misguided (Day 3 Prompt: Misguided)<div>My plan was to document<br />about all the misguided souls <br />in their daily parade<br />of selfishness, hubris and idiocy</div><div>from my perch<br />of unassailable <br />self-righteous justification:<br /><br /></div><div>the MAGA cosplay fascists<br />who are intimidating election workers <br />so that others may not vote,<br /><br /></div><div>the White supremacists<br />who want to kill <br />their presumed replacements,<br /><br /></div><div>the Christian literalists<br />who think the correct interpretation <br />can be written and read,<br /><br /></div><div>the scared Alpha Males<br />who hide behind guns<br />and tweet their threats,<br /><br /></div><div>but since I am not <br />in their shoes, <br />my words<br />would be <br />as morally vacuous<br />as their actions. <br /><br /></div><div>If I label them<br />as misguided,<br />then there’s hope,<br /><br /></div><div>but if I think <br />they are the enemy<br />then, they must<br />be eradicated.<br /><br /></div><div>Then,<br />who would be<br />the misguided one?</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-36662259655491502312022-11-02T08:12:00.002-07:002022-11-02T08:12:22.935-07:00 Bittersweet Is My Favorite Flavor (Day 2 Prompt: Sweet)<div style="text-align: left;">Human love<br />in its powerful <br />and life-changing<br />force<br />is ultimately<br />finite:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the familiar taste of <br />ripe strawberries<br />dissolves,<br />a melody <br />that recalls a memory<br />of kindness<br />fades,<br />the breathless<br />post-coital <br />heart-racing <br />skin-on-skin warmth<br />cools.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To forget <br />the fleeting beauty<br />and venerate the loss<br />is to miss <br />the necessity <br />of their interconnectedness:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the bitter<br />only exists<br />because <br />the sweet<br />also exists.<br /></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-80491835232313329672022-11-01T11:36:00.003-07:002022-11-01T16:55:56.066-07:00Why November (Day 1 Prompt: Start or End Poem)<div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">After the slow grind <br />of loneliness and dialysis,<br />she left earlier this year<br />and is finally reunited<br />and celebrating <br />Dia de los Muertos <br />with my father<br />after 23 years <br />a widow. </div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br />November was<br />their anniversary month<br />and it was the start <br />of my origin story.<br /><br /></div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">November is when <br />I begin the Christmas music,<br />the gift-buying,<br />the general nostalgia<br />for a childhood <br />that was inevitably <br />sad, hopeful<br />but still together.<br /><br /></div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Why November?<br /><br /></div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Working backward, <br />I calculated this was <br />the time of the year <br />I was conceived.<br />It’s when I started.</div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">It’s not the same this year.<br /><br /></div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">This November,<br />I am moving on </div><div style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">with fewer people, <br />more memories,<br />and an ever-growing list <br />of things I wish <br />would come back. </div><p style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><br /></p>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-6938816732173091732022-10-26T15:11:00.004-07:002022-11-08T12:09:42.076-08:00Break and Make<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Every living thing </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">must<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">for its own growth, <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">for its own survival<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">break away <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">to make a way. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If you are not <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">growing,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">then you are just <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">going,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">and staying in this old place<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">for too long <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">will make you sick. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So, make a break <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">from that old self, <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">those old thoughts,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">those predictable indulgences. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Trawl the second-hand stores<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">of the infinite consciousness,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">and begin collecting novelties<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">to assemble into a new self, <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">a little at a time. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When you break it all down<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">completely trust<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">The Invisible Inevitable <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">will bring you <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">the images <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">the dreams<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">the inspirations<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">necessary<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">to make yourself anew.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And,</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">if that doesn’t work,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">break it again,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">make it again,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">break it again,<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">make it again,</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">over and over<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;">until it feels right.</span></div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1Moreno Valley, CA 92551, USA33.878638 -117.2264572.0655453196168594 -152.38270699999998 65.691730680383145 -82.070207tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-294472809471936012021-11-16T15:34:00.010-08:002021-11-16T18:25:58.794-08:00 The Soft Core Deep in my Soul<div>There is a small,<br>soft core<br>deep in my soul,<br>where my shame <br>and embarrassment live,<br>and I haven’t been able<br>to banish him<br>from who I am.</div><div><br>I’ve covered him <br>with a shell of<br>confidence and competence<br>but he still<br>endures.<br><br></div><div>All these years <br>of acting like he wasn’t there<br>or that he wasn’t <br>important<br>are taking their toll.<br><br></div><div>Now,<br>he is demanding attention,<br>respect,<br>and he threatens<br>to expose my secret<br>self,<br>with tears that will not <br>stay hidden<br>and feelings that will not<br>relent.<br><br></div><div>I am held hostage <br>by these emotions,<br>unpleasant and embarrassing<br>as they are.<br><br></div><div>I keep trying<br>to float back in memory<br>to understand his genesis,<br>but like a dream,<br>fog-like<br>it slips away<br>just when I think<br>it is within my grasp.<br><br></div><div>He didn’t do anything<br>wrong<br>but he still feels <br>shame and embarrassment.<br><br></div><div>Whoever he is<br>I need to make peace<br>with him.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-60119157451030590312021-10-12T13:22:00.007-07:002021-10-13T11:04:28.964-07:00 Just Keep Going<div style="text-align: left;">That first night<br />after I moved out,<br />minutes dripped<br />faucet-like,<br />agonizing and slow,<br />and I kept thinking<br />“she’ll call,<br />any minute now.”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />By the 11 o’clock news<br />I was resigned,<br />eyes red and puffy<br />and I play-acted<br />normalcy,<br />pretending to sleep,<br />realizing this new<br />world would take time<br />to become mine.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The brief, pathetic life <br />we’d made <br />you traded away <br />for the White guy<br />who made more money <br />than me,<br />and his promise <br />of a fantasy life <br />and left me prey <br />to another woman,<br />who wore evil intent<br />like her body splash.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She was also <br />looking for someone <br />to fulfil her fantasy life<br />and she thought she’d found it<br />in me,<br />but I was just <br />numbing myself<br />with her attention<br />and her pale, freckled bosom.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That ended badly as well,<br />but she wasn’t going to be <br />a victim,<br />and she accused me <br />of rape.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That was 1994,<br />and again,</div><div style="text-align: left;">time did its <br />predictable thing:<br />it just kept going.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">One day to the next<br />like the waves on the sand<br />ever repeating,<br />ever repairing<br />ever after.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Time <br />just kept going, <br />no respecter <br />of people,<br />nor pressure,<br />nor pain,<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and there I learned<br />the lesson and the secret </div><div style="text-align: left;">to making it through<br />that hellish year:<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">just like time,<br />just keep going. <br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">[Posted for https://dversepoets.com/ - prompt: from a place of pain.]</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-45480795257455019662021-09-28T15:44:00.010-07:002021-11-17T13:27:51.478-08:00He Wore Blue Velvet<p style="text-align: left;">They wrapped<br />the baby<br />in blue velvet<br />because he was<br />a boy.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br />Now,<br />he wear pinks<br />and pastels<br />and argyle<br />and gun metal gray<br />because he is<br />a man.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">[Based on Prompt "What's Your Birthday" - the song is "Blue Velvet" by Bobby Vinton, #1 on September 27, 1963, the day I was born. Thanks to https://dversepoets.com/ for the idea.] </p>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12624992.post-17905879804613496322021-09-28T15:38:00.003-07:002021-11-17T13:28:29.935-08:00What Falls Away<div style="text-align: left;"> These days<br />I find myself<br />falling apart<br />easily.<br /> <br />My arms are tired<br />of trying to hold<br />myself together.<br /> <br />My body keeps telling me<br />in aches and groans,<br />“what are you<br />holding onto that<br />for?”<br /> <br />My exhausted brain<br />unfolds his director’s chair,<br />squats his weight<br />upon it and exhales:<br /> <br />“Let it fall away.<br />This body wasn’t meant<br />to last forever,<br />so what makes you think<br />your will is any stronger?”<br /> <br />I don’t want<br />to let everything<br />fall away,<br />just the<br />old, flaky, dead<br />stuff,<br />which<br />makes up more of<br />who I am<br />every day.<br /> <br />So I’m letting it all<br />fall away;<br />if it cannot stay affixed<br />of its own strength,<br />then that’s Life saying<br />I don’t need it.<br /> <br />But still,<br />way deep down inside<br />the pilot flame is still lit,<br />the rhythm still beats,<br />the juices still flow,<br /> <br />and I realize<br />the Great Interconnection<br /> <br />as I breathe in<br />the same air as<br />Socrates, Jesus and Groucho<br />and bathe in the same rain<br />as a delicate hummingbird,<br />a breathtaking mountain,<br />the pebbles in the stream.<br /> <br />Help me<br />to easily let go<br />of what<br />I no longer need<br />and<br />remain steadfast<br />and strong<br />and true<br />to that which<br />never falls away.</div>Buddah Moskowitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06839068145732552328noreply@blogger.com0