Absolvo-Meal: an advertising jingle

Your hair is gray and thinning, Jack!
Your prime is gone and won’t come back.
The cure for everything you lack?
Absolvo-Meal, the perfect snack!

Young whippersnappers run the show,
and no one cares how much you know.
When your past actions plague you so,
Absolvo-Meal’s the way to go!

Who needs responsibility?
Who wants the blame? Not you or me!
Besides, no work can make you free;
Absolvo-Meal’s the trick, you see.

It matters not how cruel or wrong
you’ve been so far, to get along,
to rise above the mindless throng;
Absolvo-Meal! The winner’s song!

So, try it now! It’s not too late!
Remove the trouble from your plate!
Don’t weakly give in to your fate;
Absolvo-Meal, the dish that sates.

Your ethics, politics and such:
who needs them? You and I? Not much!
Compassion, empathy? A crutch!
Absolvo-Meal, great in a clutch!

Forget your faults! Don’t make amends,
just have a quick glass now and then.
A clean slate every time, no end:
Absolvo-Meal, your new best friend!

So, is your soul in trouble, Jack?
Do sin and sorrow hold you back?
Just take a slug and then, relax!
Absolvo-Meal, the perfect snack!

10 APR 2014

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Little Girl Lost: a random playlist poem

It took a while, but
I got fed up
with your pretentious act:
imagining each night to be
some midnight runaway,
a tender soul
destined to be
a vagabond of the western world.

Did you want me to
hold back the night
so all your vain, precocious dreams
had time to
bloom and feed you
their narcissistic nectar?

You were more than a
little trouble, girl;
and certainly not worth
the time I wasted
before waking up.

09 APR 2014

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A Song

My ears already hear the morning lark.
Listening far beyond my sight I have begun.
So we absorb what we seem to not touch;
it vibrates us, even from a distance -

and fills us, even if we do not know it,
with something live, which, until sensing it,
we never are; the music moves us on
answering our own song…
but what we hear is the breath of the whole world.

After A Walk by Rainer Maria Rilke

8 APR 2014

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The Old Guitar: a love song

They say you are inanimate,
but I believe they lie.
The world is made of tiny stuff
that never quite stands still;
and as your presence here suggests,
this world is where you’re from.

They say you have no feelings,
but just who are they to know?
Each sound creates endless vibrations
that may never end;
and as they reach you, you may change
despite no outward sign.

They say you are an object,
without soul, but they are wrong.
Because a thing eludes detection
doesn’t prove it gone;
and anyone who hears your voice,
and listens, understands.

They say you once were living,
but are now dead. They are fools!
For life is one long single thread,
split up by space and time;
we may be separate for now,
but only for a while.

They say you are inanimate,
and do not breathe! For shame!
Without you there is no inhale
or exhale. You are the air;
together, we create the songs
that fuel the universe.

07 APR 2014

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Out Back: an observation

The short grass under the spreading live oak
is mostly dead – a dappled green
stretch of dirt that seems to soak up
the shadows cast from the tree limbs
just starting to burst with new growth
this spring.

In this shade, gray squirrels and red-winged blackbirds,
bluejays and golden finches, too,
flit quickly to and fro between the feeders:
high on the black electric lines
one minute, then down into
the still dewy morning lawn the next,
grasping a brown seed or two in their black shiny
beaks, as their partners
and lovers
and children
sing merrily out from above,
“Come here, come quick! There’s food!”

06 APR 2014

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It Matters: a golden shovel

If thinking a thing made it so,
what’s real or not don’t matter much;
and what you get solely depends
on what you tend to dwell upon.

Why think in black and white, and small? In case a
jealous god might find your dream, see red
and underneath a too cruel wheel
crush and throw big ideas in a waste barrow,
like shards of broken pottery, glazed
and beautiful, but too small to fool with,
thrown out in the torrential rain
to be buried under mud and water?

Don’t worry, I’m beside
you; no crazy gods inhabit the
world that can turn a brave heart white.
No one here but us chickens.

After William Carlos Williams’ “A Red Wheeelbarrow”

5 APR 2014

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Cycling: a lune

When you start
things seem a lot easier
than they are:

you wake up
each morning with a smile
and positive attitude,

a clear goal
to accomplish on that day,
with known outcomes.

In the middle,
things get a bit cloudy
and less obvious:

each day comes
and then it simply goes,
with much undone;

you grow tired
of just making it through
to start again.

At the end,
a kind of clarity returns,
some tell you:

the little dreams
become a lot more important
at day’s end.

The hours fly,
the years just simply disappear;
then they’re gone.

4 APR 2014

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The Cure is Worse

To make it work,
you need, in fact,
an ounce of this,
a pinch of that:

two whiskers from
a stubborn cat,
a half an ounce
of bacon fat,

a blade of grass
from a cow pat,
three specks of dust
from the doormat,

a splinter from
an aged wine vat,
machine oil from
a rusted gat.

Mix it all
in a tophat,
then grind the blend
between brickbats.

Now drink it down,
and that is that.

03 APR 2014

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It’s Our Fault

If the world was better in your youth,
and kids had much more sense;
if things once great have gone to shit,
and nothing makes much sense,

you only have yourself to blame:
your parenting did this.
How damned convenient it must be,
what ignorance and bliss,

to vainly praise your parents’ ways
and how well you turned out.
Explain to me the reason why,
because I have some doubt,

why nothing that you learned so well
you passed on to your kids,
and how, despite your efforts,
our whole future’s on the skids.

2 APR 2014

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Spare Change

There is no thing that doesn’t change:
some change, but no one sees;
some change a little, but no more;
some change to great degrees.

Some change and become something else;
some change but look the same;
some change because of point of view;
some change in all but name.

There is no thing that doesn’t change:
some change and never know;
some change without a reason why;
some change but never grow.

Some change to suit a place and time;
some change despite themselves;
some change outside but not within;
some change just for a spell.

There is no thing that doesn’t change;
some change without a clue;
some change for better or for worse;
some change but are not new.

Some change to find a better way;
some change, yet stay behind;
some change but never seem to grow;
some only change their minds.

1 APR 2014

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