Everybody Plays (Prompt: Fade Away)

Step right up,
try your hand!
Take a breath
and outwit Death!

It’s the only
game of chance
where everybody plays
and everybody loses!

Spin the wheel
and try to outwit
Father Death
and he plucks
fathers from children
leaders from countries
husbands from wives.

Will your beneficiary
get to cash in on
your term-life insurance?

Can you beat
that train
to the crossing?

Should you risk taking
your chippie
to the motel
when you’re also taking
high blood pressure meds,
high cholesterol meds,
and Viagra?

If you’re lucky,
you’ll get a warning.
Some of you
will overstay your welcome.
Most of you
won’t know what
hit ya!

Haven’t entered yet?
Don’t worry,
you’re already in!

The Last Lottery!
The Final Round-Up!
The Happy Hunting Grounds!
The Great Beyond!

The trip of a lifetime
is just waiting for you!

Who’ll be today’s lucky
winner?

Maybe,
it’ll be

you!

A New Holiness (Prompt: Re-use a previously used phrase)

There’s no point
in doing this
if you’re just
going to lie.

So, the truth is
you’re going to fail at this
most of the time,
but contrary to logic
you mustn’t stop.

The best you can hope for
is that every now and then
you feel it –
the holiness
the wholeness,

but beware,
for when it seems
that you’re certain
you’ve glimpsed
the face of The Eternal One,
an egotistical,
self-congratulatory
amnesia
will wipe the holiness
away faster than
a shaken Etch-a-Sketch.
It’s not about being
being holy just one time
and making it last forever.

It’s about making
each new moment
a new holiness,
completely alive
and serving that which
lives in all things.

It may appear to be
interconnectedness,
but it is the awareness
of your place
and your sacredness
in the continuum.

Problems (Prompt: Problem)

We are born
tabula rasa
on all six sides.

Without trial,
without trouble,
we remain
blank,
untouched
smooth,
too smooth.

The failures
the angst
the shortcomings,
the problems
all chip away
at those smooth sides

making us
interesting,
instructive
perhaps even inspiring.

Knowing this,

I strive
to reinterpret
each problem
as yet another
teacher.

If I am
successful and wise
the problems
will not cease,
but rather
will make me
smarter,
more grateful
and more alive.

The Problem is That It’s a Perfect April Afternoon (Prompt: The Problem is...)

The problem is that it’s
a perfect April afternoon,
and that bright blue
cloudless sky,
looks even prettier
because it’s dressing up
a Friday afternoon

which means it’s only
a few more hours
until I get to
be with you again,
because I have missed you
so much this week
(but I always miss you),

but since you’re in one city
and I’m in another
(and since neither of us
is independently wealthy),

instead asking you
to meet me for
a quick, private picnic,
I’ll go back to my office,
and hope that
you had
the same thought of me
upon seeing
this perfect
and problematic
April afternoon.

The Codebook’s Finished

In this poem

the daybreak represents
morning
and the tree
is knowledge.

The babbling brook
is supposed to be
the mocking voices
of a vacuous
culture.

The snail
on the stone
represents the perseverance
of the protagonist

while the dew
is meant
to conjure doubt.

The aging windmill
in the distance
represents
Man’s ultimate
mortal demise,

whereas the frog
represents the most
noble of
all human endeavors.


OK,
now that
the codebook’s finished,
on to

the poem.

(Written for Meeting the Bar: Allegory at dversepoets.com . As usual, when I can't do what's expected of me, I make fun of the situation.)

There But For the Grace of Four Percent (Prompt: Animal)

“Scientists have sequenced the genome 
of the chimpanzee and found 
that humans are 96 percent similar 
to the great ape species.” – 
Stefan Lovgren
for National Geographic News
August 31, 2005

I squint
as I look
in the mirror.

I see the wrinkles,
the smile,
the imposing eyebrow ridge
over soulful, searching eyes,

and think,
there but for the
grace of four percent
is the great ape.

While this majestic beast
possesses inherent dignity,
the most successful ones
are those who have been
trained to amuse
by riding bikes,
smoking cigars,
and wearing tuxedoes.

Complex and unpredictable,
they can submit
to each other
for intensely personal grooming,
but can also mobilize
for the violent
overthrow of
a designated enemy.

Victims of circumstance,
they move to where
the food is
and they learn
the unwritten rules
of their hierarchical society.

They hunt,
they share,
they nurture,
they rape,
they invent,
they ruminate,
they try,
they fail.

So
I’m starting think that
the four percent difference
consists mostly of
cosmetic appearance,
differential acrobatic skills,
and self-serving statements
of perceived
moral superiority.

Exercise (Prompt: Sports)

As an overweight child,
I hated playing sports,
but I did so
mostly because if I didn't play
the teams were uneven.

I would rather spend
my time
in my parents’ living room,
lost in a pair of
plastic over-the-ear
headphones
plugged into the
stereo (as it was called then),
playing records
I borrowed from the
public library.

Music was my earliest
passion.

When I was 13,
for Christmas,
my parents gave me
a pair of headphones
that had an AM radio
built-in to them!
They even had
telescoping rabbit ears
antenna for
improved reception.

(Remember, this was 1976.)

So,
on Sunday mornings
I would take my headphones
and ride my crummy little
two-wheeler up and down
the eight block
section of neighborhood
where I was allowed,
and listen to Casey Kasem’s
American Top 40,
and dream of making music
that he would
someday introduce.

It was the only time
I ever liked
exercise.

Gracia (Prompt: love)

Her family moved in
across the street
from mine,
and my 19 year old
head was turned.
I was curious.

I moved slowly,
the only speed
my timid, virgin
heart knew.

She was dark haired,
dark-eyed,
peach-cheeked,
with a wide,
friendly smile.

Fittingly,
her name was Gracia.

Where I was a nervous
dervish of insecurity,
she was calm,
comforting
and laughed when needed,
and took me seriously
when needed.

She was beautiful
and she was my friend
and I loved her.

Moments together
were warm and they glowed.
We were chaste,
perhaps even naive,
and we both happily explored
the previously uncharted regions
of each others' heart.

We taught each other
how to kiss,
and nothing more.

There was no need for more:
it was an exquisite time,
and that was enough.

But, like a haunting melody
on a worn-out 45,
somewhere deep down
we both knew
our summer of 1983
would come to an end.

The next year
she started dating
Alex,
and I tried not to watch
from my bedroom window
as he gently guided her
into his car,
in a most gentlemanly
and enviable fashion.

He was older (which I wasn’t),
he was Christian (which I wasn’t),
he had a plan for his life
(which I didn’t).

Within two years
she married Alex,
and I attended their wedding,
which her family
inexplicably and regrettably
decided to boycott.

I used to wonder
about my place
in her memories,
until I found out
years later
that her
first son’s name
is
the same as mine.

(Posted for #OpenLinkNight at dversepoets.com, the best poetry website on the whole damned Internet.)

My Morning Ritual (Prompt: Morning)

The ritual starts the same way:

My first thoughts
are always scrambled:
part disappearing dream,
part beeping alarm clock,
and part soundtrack
to whatever tv show
is playing on the set
that was left on
as a lazy night light.

I hear the tip-tip-tip
of Yorkie claws scratching
on the laminate floor
as Sadie the cat
drags her paw
across our closed bedroom door,
and makes
a slow, torturous scrape,
her mute petition
for admission.

The dogs want out
and the cat wants in,

I’m barely awake
and I’m already playing
zookeeper.

I escort the dogs
out to the backyard
and I breathe in the
sweet and sharp
cold morning.

God hears
my silent prayers
of gratitude,
and my mind scans
the coming day:
it thinks in terms of
appointment blocks
in Microsoft Outlook.

I ask
“please help me be
a good man, and
please watch over
my wife and children
and bring them all
home
safely.”

I dwell in this
quiet and slow moment,
until clarity materializes.

Then, the barking begins

shallow and soft,
ruff-ruff

ruff
then louder

yike-yike-yike!

which signals the
end of my morning
ritual.

Stones (prompt: Judging)

Long story short:
it didn’t go down.

No, it was all set to happen,
we were all there,
we had our stones ready to go.

We had this whore
dead to rights.

We had her surrounded,
and there she was,
whimpering like the
adulterous bitch
that she was,

and then I see Jesus
in the crowd
and I figure
I’m gonna outfox this bum
once and for all,
and say

“Hey, Jesus,
we caught this woman
in the act with some guy
who wasn’t her husband,
 so we’re going to stone her
like the Mosaic law says,
or do you have a problem with that?”

So, what does Jesus do?
He crouches down
scratches something
in the dirt,
wipes it away
and says

“Let he who is
without sin
cast the first stone.”

So, what could I do?

Since I was the one
she was doing it with,
I had to put my stone down
and walk away.

The Search for Truth (Prompt: Under the Microscope)

Under the microscope
the empiricists
search for evidence
that confirms or denies
what
the mystics
already know.

Blankety-Blank

All night I worshipped her blankety-blank
without a single thankety-thank

so I called her a middle-aged blankety-blank
(to give her collar a yankety-yank)

then I pinched her on the blankety-blank
(it was really just a prankety-prank)

she hissed "don't you touch my blankety-blank!"
(I was hoping she'd give me a spankety-spank)

but she just covered up her blankety-blank
and asked how much I drankety-drank

and then my heart just sankety-sank
when she declared

"never again, will you
blankety-blank my blankety-blank!"

(NOTE: This was the only thing I could think of that had a couplet.  It's from 2008, and written for a laugh.  Hope you had one. Posted for http://dversepoets.com/ #FormForAll.)

Let’s Get Away for a While (Prompt: Let's)

Let’s get away for a while
wander back
to our genesis,
before we became
two ringmasters
in charge of a circus
where the animals have
outgrown their cages and
aren’t listening to reason.

Let’s just get away
and be like those couples
who meet for lunch
on these bright sunny days
when you are miles away,
as I envy their wide-eyed
mutual adoration.

Let’s remember who we were
when we met
and how grateful
and valued we made
each other feel,
how this love shined
so obviously
for all to see.

Let’s go back
to who we were
before those stupid,
disfiguring fights,
and those perfectly
rehearsed barbs
forever took
the stars
from our eyes.

This love
was never
somewhere else,

it was always
inside of us,

but now it's
covered with unpaid bills,
doctor appointments,
mounds of dirty laundry,
and perpetual servitude
to our children
and our parents.

It’s time
to shove
those distractions aside
and lift up
the hidden gold
that first
drew us together,

polish it up and
make it glow again.

It’s time.

Baptism (Prompt: Life Event)

When you decide
this is what
you want to be

not because
of what it means
in the next world,

but what it means
in this world,

then,
you’re ready.

Thai Peanut Spicy Chicken (Prompt: Regional Cuisine)

I let the wisps of
peanut-scented steam
waft from the Styrofoam
to-go container,
and I inhale it
as though it was
some exotic breathing
treatment.

My heart pounds
in my chest
and the saliva pools
in my mouth
as I carefully
balance the peanut sauce
with the white rice
on my fork.

The Thai spices,
a magical mystery mix,
shoot electricity
from my tongue
through my entire being,
faster than morphine,
as exciting as her touch
the very first time.

The crunch of the peanut
and the tenderness
of the chicken
make every bite
a challenge
to savor
and not devour.

What problems that exist
in this world,
in my world
are for the moment
off somewhere
far, far away.

The memory
of sweet coconut milk
and fiery red chili
stays with me
all afternoon,

reminding of
what is often
the best part of my day.

Unity 3000 (Prompt: Science Fiction)

How many times do you
wake up in the morning,
with a profound sense of
detachment,
insecurity
and ennui
that even your usual
two cups of hyperblend
can’t fix?

Ever wish you could just
get up with
a great attitude,
rested, refreshed and ready
to produce more positive output
for your corporate benefactor?

On days like this
when even your
state-prescribed antidepressants
aren’t doing the trick,
don’t you wish you had
that little something extra,
a secret weapon
to give you that little extra edge,
so you could be Top Bot
for your sector
and win that extra 15 minutes
of Virtual Physical Interaction
with the hologram of
your choice?

Well , wait no more!
New for
[INSERT HOLIDAY FIELD]  [INSERT YEAR FIELD],
the only product
you’ll ever need again,
the Unity 3000!

The Unity 3000 links
to your Personal USB Port
through an attractive dongle
(available in four different
ethnic skin tones),
to help you sleep better,
and while you’re sleeping
you’re also reprogramming
your subconscious,
so that your dreams
are more inspiring,
and your sleep
is more restful.

Let the power of
just lying there unconscious
work for you!

Choose from a variety of
Programming Attitudes:
“Go For Our Dreams!”
“That’s Not a Mountain, It’s Only a Hill!”
“Work Will Make You Free!”
“There is no I in TEAM!”

Just download the program to the dongle,
insert it in your Personal USB Port
and fall asleep!
As you doze
our patented DreamAlign process
will do the rest!

The Unity 3000
also data mines your
dream activity
for negative images
and disturbing content,
quarantining these aberrant
thoughts and feelings
until you can download
and process them properly
at your next
Mental Health Review or
Performance Evaluation.

Call now to see
if you qualify
for a free Unity 3000!

Employers,
ask about the tax credit
for providing
the Unity 3000
for your employees.

Have that peace of mind,
that contentment,
that satisfaction,
that comes from finally feeling
complete.

Just in time for
[INSERT HOLIDAY FIELD]  [INSERT YEAR FIELD],

the Unity 3000,
get yours now!

[INSERT PHONE FIELD] [INSERT WEB FIELD]!

[Posted for #OpenLinkNight at dversepoets.com - the best poetry site on the whole damned internet!]

Playlist: Id (Prompt: Mix Poem)

The beach is a place
where a man can feel
he’s the only soul in the world
that’s real,
here’s the thing:
we started off friends,
you say
I only hear what I want to,
how do you cool your lips
after a summer’s kiss?

I was born from love
and my poor mother
worked the mines,
and there’s nothing you can do
to turn me away,
welcome back,
your dreams were your ticket out,
I’ve been searching a long time
for someone exactly like you.

I’ve got to say it
and it’s hard for me,
last night I didn’t get to sleep
at all,
add a little sugar, honeysuckle
and a great big expression of
happiness.

Who’s the black private dick
that’s a sex machine
to all the chicks?
I'm coming straight for your love baby
Like a rocket, girl,
stand!
in the end you’ll still be you.

Superhighways coast to coast
easy to get anywhere,
you just could not know
how long we tried
to see how this building
looks inside,
Late night flight, LAX
limousine and you’re all set.

If there’s a smile on my face
it’s only there trying to fool
the public,
life is a song worth singing,
you can tell the truth,
you can tell a lie,
baby, lift your head up,
they tell me you’re shy, but
I love you just the same,
been around the world
and I can’t find my baby,
I’m writing letters
and your candle’s burning,
my heart starts breaking
when I think of making
a plan to let you go.

I've been walking in
the same way as I did,
when I say I’m in love
you best believe
I’m in love
L-U-V!

As I was lying
in a hospital bed
a rock and roll nurse
going to my head,
forgot my six-string razor
and hit the sky,
he was a boy
she was a girl
can I make it any more
obvious?

It doesn’t matter what I say
as long as I sing with
inflection,
I don’t think I can handle this
another day in Metropolis,
I have had my eyes on you
from the day I learned to laugh at myself,
caught you laughing too.

Hey, don’t worry
I’ve been lied to.

[Note: these are the first lines of the songs in my current Rhapsody playlist. Whoever guesses the most of them correctly, wins a free copy of my latest e-book!  There are 34 songs listed herein!]

The Foreman Speaks (Prompt: slash, button, mask, strap, balloon)

Ok, listen up, you hacks.

I’m sure you’ve all
received the memo from
Research and Marketing,
and the word is
that the big bosses
are behind this
so they’re serious.

The online e-card sites
are kicking our ass,
so if we can’t beat them,
Corporate’s going to slash
the creative division.

Research tells us
the market wants
outrageous
from America’s premier
greeting card company.

No more balloons
or cakes
or cute little
puppy dogs
on birthday cards.

No, they want
S&M masks,
strap-ons
and anything that
titillates.

Moskowitz,
button your lip!

If you want to be
an artist,
get the hell
out of here.

Go back to that
blog of yours,
with its lousy 50
followers,
you loser.

The End of the World (Prompt: Doomsday)

It’s Saturday.

I slept in late,
checked the prompt.

Then life
just buffalo’ed in
like it tends to do
and I realize that
if I don’t write a poem
today
it won’t be
the end of the world,

but
best not to chance it.

EXTRA! EXTRA!

Big shout out to Vince Gotera - he had the good taste to feature this blog on his blog!
Check his cool poetry out too!

http://vincegotera.blogspot.com/2012/04/day-12-napowrimo-poem-day.html