gkpoetry

(For My Friend, Joe)

As Clemson beat the mighty Alabama,
Joe battles against his angio-sarcoma.
Watson to Renfro, the pass that won the game,
Doc Onc to Joe, the meds must do the same.

A year the Tigers will hold the champions crown,
Until new games threaten to bring them down.
Accustomed to facing foes with power and might,
The Dabo, Doc Onc, and Joe with grit must fight
Until the final whistle signals an end,
And Joe has won the battle all over again.

This year the second quarter of game two
The Dabo knew his Tigers were not through.
And so today Joe must believe the same,
He and Doc Onc still got plenty of game.

And if I stay no wiser than before,
Regret consumes my heart ’til nothing left
Save a hollow, which means I stay bereft
Unless thoughts of her and me I ignore.
But who is it that leaves ajar this door,
An entry for this torment’s sanctioned heft
To crush until my spirit’s forever undeft,
That tolerates this woe yet more and more?
‘Tis I, of course, who else has place to block,
Forgo the clash of blame, who’s ‘right or wrong’,
Sever heartache’s traction and live in it’s face?
Construct my own demise, a life to knock,
Or toughen up to bravely push along,
Bloodied, yet seeking life’s joys with fearsome grace?

An urge to display one’s work,
To have a reading or gallery show,
A validation of sorts
You’ll often not get it though,
As most goers evade immersion.
The avant-garde proffer facile narration
And even ascribe it to you,
When in fact you were rapt with
A Helga or Ken or awash with
Emily’s nectar and dew,
Come slowly–Eden!

To live your life, to have the wherewithal
To study who you are, and be the person
You discover; to not ignore approval
Nor disapproval yet treat those two impostors
Just the same as Rudyard did in IF, as
You treat a scare card in hold’em and yet
Go on to play your hand, winning sometimes.

Sticks of dynamite
Explode. Chaos, confusion,
Bleak, black. Forty years
On, cheap torrents of regret
Inundate his ruined heart.

‘Twas gray gray moody yesterday by the bay,
The sky was gray, the sea was gray–slate gray,
Though truth be told a darker murky green
Imbued the slate fading the surface sheen.
Cloud drifts allowed a blue to billow through,
A nice blue, a sky blue, gnawing gray’s view.
At horizon, a hazy brown band, and at the fore,
Craggy barnacled boulders browned the shore.

Wished to ensconce inside the wind and gray,
Not like a summer day. Wanted to stay,
To ponder, to be immersed in drab gray cold,
Yet thought himself too old to relinquish hold!

We live. We die. Some ask just how and why
This world exists. Some want the apple pie
Their mother made. How did our D N A
Begin? In space, after a bang? At bay,
Keep your science. There is a God!? I cry

For lack of proof, the need for faith. Oh My!
A terror grips our land. Some fight. Some sigh,
“Moderate ones must surely be okay?”
We live. We die.

The Boston race, Hasan’s Fort Hood, and, by
The by, a Paris evening, shooters fly
Around the streets to kill the future days
Of happy people not aligned their way!
We now buy guns, no more will we be shy!
We live. We die.

He sat in a pew several rows behind
The family of his departed, long time friend
And listened to the noble accolades
And anecdotes quite affably depicted
For the steadfast throng of funeral goers.
When funny stories were recounted, he smiled
And genuinely felt his friend had been
A good husband and father. Then he wondered,
“Had his friend been truly happy in life?”
He knew he’d taken anti-depressants for years.

He started to muse about himself, as he
Was wont to do, and questioned his own life.
He sifted memories that came to mind.
His first wife said, “He had no empathy.”
He hadn’t been markedly stung by this
Because he didn’t know what the word meant.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it before.
Some time later, she left him; he moved on.
Years later, he married a lovely woman
And shared a solid partnership with her.
One day, he asked her, “What is empathy?”
She looked at him quizzically and replied,
“It’s walking in another’s shoes, trying
To discern what underlies their emotions
And to react to that in a helpful way.”
He remembered being wholly unprepared
For such a clear and definitive response
And altogether flummoxed imagining
Himself performing in that situation.
He felt he would flounder miserably.
Nevertheless, he’d tried, awkwardly, to
Foster empathy when it seemed to fit,
Enriched by the odd breakthrough but never quite
At ease tramping along another’s street.
She’d added, “Life’s what’s right in front of you,
Not fretting about past or future events.”

While contemplating this, he heard a murmur
With the scuffle of feet as people stood
And shuffled to the end of their pews to leave.
The ceremony was over. He uttered, “Oh!”

We’re the architects of our own demise,
Political correctness most unwise,
A blanket thrown over our words and thought
Squelching our ardor, implying we’re caught
For some infraction not defined as proper
For good little boys and girls. Call the copper
To herd us. Fear the label of racist bigot
Spewing from mouths of skittish mouthpiece spigots
To cower those who have the brazen gall
To agree with Donald: “Build the Goddamn Wall!”

Our Donald Trump is here to stay,
Though many wish the opposite.
He’ll shape our future USA,
The phony pols will have to quit.

Though many wish the opposite,
The Donald won’t cooperate.
The phony pols will have to quit
Their games and schemes which cause such hate.

The Donald won’t cooperate,
Our country’s path is wrong, wrong, wrong!
The games and schemes which cause such hate
Our sense of right demands long gone.

Our country’s path is wrong, wrong, wrong!
He’ll haul us back from wayward isles.
Our sense of right demands long gone
Those frauds who cheat along the aisles.

He’ll haul us back from wayward isles,
His manner brooks no lassitude.
The frauds who cheat along the aisles
He’ll name aloud with gratis rude!

His manner brooks no lassitude
Because he’s tough with great success,
He’ll name aloud with gratis rude
All those who caused this dire mess.

Because he’s tough with great success
He’ll shape our future USA.
For those who caused this dire mess,
Our Donald Trump is here to stay!