17 February 2016
15 February 2016
VD Lament?
I do not want to be
That sad, single guy;
Always that nice guy
Who never finds love...
I do not want to be
A bad annoyance,
A street harasser,
Solely focused on looks...
So, what do I want to be?
I want to value and respect your mind.
I want be funny, yet still kind.
Is there a soul mate, for me to find?
I wish ladies would be forthright and open,
Expressing any love and attraction for me;
Because I would rather that they have that power...
Then again, what if I reject their advance?
I've tried dating web sites
With very little success -
I'd rather date within my friends,
Yet, I know not who I impress...
Trust me on this:
You have to be open and direct,
Because I'm an introvert
And so apt to miss
Subtle and coy clues
While I'm wrapped up in my own head.
There's a beast in me,
That animal drive
That wants physical affection and more -
Yet it is at war
With my ego and super-ego
Who want peace in the community,
Who fear getting tangled up with a friend:
"What if their feelings end?"
I am thankful for the tokens of love,
Scattered in front of me -
Rides home with friends, holiday invites,
Tidbits shared from our pasts...
I just feel like I get lost in the crowd,
Because I do not drop one-liners?
Because silence is easy to dismiss?
That sad, single guy;
Always that nice guy
Who never finds love...
I do not want to be
A bad annoyance,
A street harasser,
Solely focused on looks...
So, what do I want to be?
I want to value and respect your mind.
I want be funny, yet still kind.
Is there a soul mate, for me to find?
I wish ladies would be forthright and open,
Expressing any love and attraction for me;
Because I would rather that they have that power...
Then again, what if I reject their advance?
I've tried dating web sites
With very little success -
I'd rather date within my friends,
Yet, I know not who I impress...
Trust me on this:
You have to be open and direct,
Because I'm an introvert
And so apt to miss
Subtle and coy clues
While I'm wrapped up in my own head.
There's a beast in me,
That animal drive
That wants physical affection and more -
Yet it is at war
With my ego and super-ego
Who want peace in the community,
Who fear getting tangled up with a friend:
"What if their feelings end?"
I am thankful for the tokens of love,
Scattered in front of me -
Rides home with friends, holiday invites,
Tidbits shared from our pasts...
I just feel like I get lost in the crowd,
Because I do not drop one-liners?
Because silence is easy to dismiss?
14 February 2016
"What can I do?" (P.o.t.D. 2/13/16)
What can I do?
When the world seems to be splitting apart at the seams,
and poison runs freely through its streams...
Then there's a current in the culture,
dragging the poor people under,
as sthey become brainwashed by the media and selfish rich...
maybe not so extreme,
but that's how it seems...
Two decades ago, my interest waned
While society thought it was entertained,
By the next horrific news item, the next big thing -
Still, CNN gets the ratings
From the huddled masses
Glued to their TV sets.
What I really want is a good bedtime story -
Just a tale that can ease me into dreamland
And block out the nightmares around me.
I'm drawn in by instrumental music,
And Visual Effects Spectaculars...
Maybe, it's a yearning for magic,
Instead of the mundane,
And I recall reading
My Mom's Library of King and Xanth in the 80's -
Enjoying the word play,
The crafting of mysteries...
These days, I look forward to games galore,
And the crazy tales in store,
When rolling dice,
Not always playing nice.
I doubt that I will revise or edit this piece;
Although I might consider slapping a low-filters warning upon it?
What can I do?
I can read books or watch movies from the library,
Or even upon my computer or my phone.
I can call my friends and family,
Or take time the sift their emails
Out of the detritus that fills my accounts -
So much junk worn down to one-page wonders
From companies and web sites through which I wandered.
It's so easy to peck away at the keyboard,
Or even just copy and paste,
Or maybe even just like and share,
And, with one click, send it everywhere...
That was my original idea, tonight -
To dust off the laptop, and clean out the mailboxes;
Getting some chuckles from so many minutiae.
I'm glad that I reached my Dad instead,
And talked out some of my fears and hopes and more.
He only slipped into lectures, a couple of times in the hour call.
What can I do?
I can write a long rant,
Or maybe this half-poem,
Expressing my health concerns,
And my lack of romance,
And the career dance...
Yes, there are times I wish upon a star,
For a better life, in which I can go far...
Yet, I can sleep quite well at night;
Because I disavow myself
From watching the media fright?
Or, because of the drugs prescribed
For leveling out my bipolar flight?
I prefer not to be whipped into a frenzy,
Yet I worry such blissful ignorance
Can land me as a stranger in a strange land -
Unable to comprehend or understand
How the coddled masses
Dealt us such a spiteful, hateful hand.
What can I do?
What do I do?
I've tried to curtail my Facebook shares,
Recognizing that they're so much gossip,
And their background research is so rare.
It is rare, too, that I spend money on movies;
But that's more likely
Because I have so little money to spend.
I do give up eleven dollars a month,
To cut out the ads from Spotify,
And customize my play lists...
It pleases me greatly that many customers
Compliment me upon my ambient airs.
After that phone call with my father, this evening,
I took some time to publicize my playlists -
If you have Spotify, and are intrigued,
Try searching for the four lists
Whose names start with "JB's"...
Maybe that's a bit of my pride playing out.
I claim to be an introvert,
But I still want to be immersed,
and feel the pulse of culture...
So, despite little to no TV,
And the very rare trip to see a movie,
I keep the radio going,
And I volunteer,
And play my games...
It just seems like small moves
To keep away the boredom, the loneliness,
The hermit's life that I court.
What can I do?
...to feel love,
instead of hate?
When the world seems to be splitting apart at the seams,
and poison runs freely through its streams...
Then there's a current in the culture,
dragging the poor people under,
as sthey become brainwashed by the media and selfish rich...
maybe not so extreme,
but that's how it seems...
Two decades ago, my interest waned
While society thought it was entertained,
By the next horrific news item, the next big thing -
Still, CNN gets the ratings
From the huddled masses
Glued to their TV sets.
What I really want is a good bedtime story -
Just a tale that can ease me into dreamland
And block out the nightmares around me.
I'm drawn in by instrumental music,
And Visual Effects Spectaculars...
Maybe, it's a yearning for magic,
Instead of the mundane,
And I recall reading
My Mom's Library of King and Xanth in the 80's -
Enjoying the word play,
The crafting of mysteries...
These days, I look forward to games galore,
And the crazy tales in store,
When rolling dice,
Not always playing nice.
I doubt that I will revise or edit this piece;
Although I might consider slapping a low-filters warning upon it?
What can I do?
I can read books or watch movies from the library,
Or even upon my computer or my phone.
I can call my friends and family,
Or take time the sift their emails
Out of the detritus that fills my accounts -
So much junk worn down to one-page wonders
From companies and web sites through which I wandered.
It's so easy to peck away at the keyboard,
Or even just copy and paste,
Or maybe even just like and share,
And, with one click, send it everywhere...
That was my original idea, tonight -
To dust off the laptop, and clean out the mailboxes;
Getting some chuckles from so many minutiae.
I'm glad that I reached my Dad instead,
And talked out some of my fears and hopes and more.
He only slipped into lectures, a couple of times in the hour call.
What can I do?
I can write a long rant,
Or maybe this half-poem,
Expressing my health concerns,
And my lack of romance,
And the career dance...
Yes, there are times I wish upon a star,
For a better life, in which I can go far...
Yet, I can sleep quite well at night;
Because I disavow myself
From watching the media fright?
Or, because of the drugs prescribed
For leveling out my bipolar flight?
I prefer not to be whipped into a frenzy,
Yet I worry such blissful ignorance
Can land me as a stranger in a strange land -
Unable to comprehend or understand
How the coddled masses
Dealt us such a spiteful, hateful hand.
What can I do?
What do I do?
I've tried to curtail my Facebook shares,
Recognizing that they're so much gossip,
And their background research is so rare.
It is rare, too, that I spend money on movies;
But that's more likely
Because I have so little money to spend.
I do give up eleven dollars a month,
To cut out the ads from Spotify,
And customize my play lists...
It pleases me greatly that many customers
Compliment me upon my ambient airs.
After that phone call with my father, this evening,
I took some time to publicize my playlists -
If you have Spotify, and are intrigued,
Try searching for the four lists
Whose names start with "JB's"...
Maybe that's a bit of my pride playing out.
I claim to be an introvert,
But I still want to be immersed,
and feel the pulse of culture...
So, despite little to no TV,
And the very rare trip to see a movie,
I keep the radio going,
And I volunteer,
And play my games...
It just seems like small moves
To keep away the boredom, the loneliness,
The hermit's life that I court.
What can I do?
...to feel love,
instead of hate?
11 February 2016
"Destiny's Leaves?" (P.o.t.D. 2/11/16)
Youth's fair and fine leaves
Ride with the wind, as the bus
Trudges long its course...
Poems plucked from children,
Posted above riders' heads
To read and digest...
Spaghetti roads or
Spaghetti hair? Images
Of tangled skeins there.
Little do I know
From what branch I pick these lines -
Life's veins intertwined...
Thin delicate rib
Of a moon, or fingernail,
Or bowl in the sky?
Colorful reward,
To gorge, on poetry bus,
With nine rhymes, not one -
To be distracted
From a dull, brown life, riding
Round the town, head down,
Looking at the phone,
At senseless memes, in long lines -
Shadows of poems, See?
Let me look at leaves,
Left in the loft of the lift,
'less I leave, listless.
Ride with the wind, as the bus
Trudges long its course...
Poems plucked from children,
Posted above riders' heads
To read and digest...
Spaghetti roads or
Spaghetti hair? Images
Of tangled skeins there.
Little do I know
From what branch I pick these lines -
Life's veins intertwined...
Thin delicate rib
Of a moon, or fingernail,
Or bowl in the sky?
Colorful reward,
To gorge, on poetry bus,
With nine rhymes, not one -
To be distracted
From a dull, brown life, riding
Round the town, head down,
Looking at the phone,
At senseless memes, in long lines -
Shadows of poems, See?
Let me look at leaves,
Left in the loft of the lift,
'less I leave, listless.
07 February 2016
"Silver Pins?" (pub 2/7/16)
My mind's but an empty vessel,
Drained of all life
By the paparazzi media circus.
As it was sucked dry
Through my clamped shut eyes and ears,
My heart was evacuated long before -
Allowing this travesty of modern life.
My hope,
If it still exists,
Is that one day,
This hollow existence
Will be replenished
By love's fire
Finding silver pins
Hidden under all the toothpicks.
Let us slay vampires and werewolves
Who are the diseases
Poisoning society's vitality...
Drained of all life
By the paparazzi media circus.
As it was sucked dry
Through my clamped shut eyes and ears,
My heart was evacuated long before -
Allowing this travesty of modern life.
My hope,
If it still exists,
Is that one day,
This hollow existence
Will be replenished
By love's fire
Finding silver pins
Hidden under all the toothpicks.
Let us slay vampires and werewolves
Who are the diseases
Poisoning society's vitality...
05 February 2016
"isolated in AA" (P.o.t.D. 2/5/16)
just string the words together,
and wonder if any thoughts appear...
isolated at an AA meeting,
despite a couple of warm greetings -
always wanting to be in the spotlight,
the center of attention:
the guy who makes everyone laugh,
or who says something so profound.
hooey on that...
just trying to pump the chest out,
without speaking from the heart...
without vulnerability and weakness,
although it could be weakness
to cloak one's self in pretty words,
devoid of real meaning, real experience.
great chasm, great gulf, great void
between them and me -
Lack of sincerity.
i feel a little charred,
because I asked for help,
and i got no response.
"For God's sake,
It was only a chili cookoff!"
...or, floundering, flopping in the deep,
wishing for some relief,
but the steps sit unworked,
the phone sits silent,
and the never-ending quest for more
packs my schedule full of games and work -
no room left to breathe,
to sort out the medicine madness,
the deceptively cheap insurance
that does not provide any takers -
damn those doctors and their high fees!
i looked at the white board,
and i saw that i hadn't been to a meeting,
all this week, despite rules that I attend three.
so i went to the late-night tonight,
and i plan on an early one tomorrow,
capped by a speaker in the evening...
part of me wonders if i'll follow through.
I used to go religiously to 1313,
but, lately...?
it seems that fears of missing work
have been keeping me away,
or, so I claim.
it could also be...
that I don't feel a part of, any more -
ever since I quit smoking cigarettes,
or started sporting grey hair,
or just watching my mind fall apart...
why do i hide in this cave?
why do i settle
for so little,
when great things could be me?
the thoughts are out there, now...
mostly my low-lying anger at AA -
How I feel so separate, almost betrayed...
wondering if that's, for me, a valid place.
On a bright note,
I really do enjoy my gaming nights -
So much more interaction...
I'm not so fond of work nights,
slinging beer and cigarettes
to people who don't realize,
"The party's over, 'lest you never grow old..."
I suspect, one day,
I'll see some of these customers
In future AA meetings...
If I'm still going, that is....
So, I don't feel alone, or lonely,
as i do have happy places to go to;
but i do feel isolated and unaccepted -
like my boat has drifted to uncharted waters,
away from the fleet
maybe i'm just hungry,
as I fast tonight,
for the doctor's tests, tomorrow.
I've noticed how twisted off I become,
when i've not had food for a bit.
and wonder if any thoughts appear...
isolated at an AA meeting,
despite a couple of warm greetings -
always wanting to be in the spotlight,
the center of attention:
the guy who makes everyone laugh,
or who says something so profound.
hooey on that...
just trying to pump the chest out,
without speaking from the heart...
without vulnerability and weakness,
although it could be weakness
to cloak one's self in pretty words,
devoid of real meaning, real experience.
great chasm, great gulf, great void
between them and me -
Lack of sincerity.
i feel a little charred,
because I asked for help,
and i got no response.
"For God's sake,
It was only a chili cookoff!"
...or, floundering, flopping in the deep,
wishing for some relief,
but the steps sit unworked,
the phone sits silent,
and the never-ending quest for more
packs my schedule full of games and work -
no room left to breathe,
to sort out the medicine madness,
the deceptively cheap insurance
that does not provide any takers -
damn those doctors and their high fees!
i looked at the white board,
and i saw that i hadn't been to a meeting,
all this week, despite rules that I attend three.
so i went to the late-night tonight,
and i plan on an early one tomorrow,
capped by a speaker in the evening...
part of me wonders if i'll follow through.
I used to go religiously to 1313,
but, lately...?
it seems that fears of missing work
have been keeping me away,
or, so I claim.
it could also be...
that I don't feel a part of, any more -
ever since I quit smoking cigarettes,
or started sporting grey hair,
or just watching my mind fall apart...
why do i hide in this cave?
why do i settle
for so little,
when great things could be me?
the thoughts are out there, now...
mostly my low-lying anger at AA -
How I feel so separate, almost betrayed...
wondering if that's, for me, a valid place.
On a bright note,
I really do enjoy my gaming nights -
So much more interaction...
I'm not so fond of work nights,
slinging beer and cigarettes
to people who don't realize,
"The party's over, 'lest you never grow old..."
I suspect, one day,
I'll see some of these customers
In future AA meetings...
If I'm still going, that is....
So, I don't feel alone, or lonely,
as i do have happy places to go to;
but i do feel isolated and unaccepted -
like my boat has drifted to uncharted waters,
away from the fleet
maybe i'm just hungry,
as I fast tonight,
for the doctor's tests, tomorrow.
I've noticed how twisted off I become,
when i've not had food for a bit.
04 February 2016
"Birch Tree" (P.o.t.D. 2/4/16)
Is it a birch tree
That sports a white trunk?
Looking at it,
I suspect the bark
Is a delectable treat
For some insatiable insect,
Stripping the tree bare -
Leaving it to shiver and creak
In the winter cold,
Befeft of leaves and bark more.
Then I wonder,
"When it creaks,
Does it, like a treant, speak,
Begging to follow me home
To find some shelter
From this harsh world?"
Should we be glad
That trees stay rooted?
Else, what chaos could they create
With branches swinging and scratching
At all these animals?
Losing steam...
I still ponder
On white trunks...
That sports a white trunk?
Looking at it,
I suspect the bark
Is a delectable treat
For some insatiable insect,
Stripping the tree bare -
Leaving it to shiver and creak
In the winter cold,
Befeft of leaves and bark more.
Then I wonder,
"When it creaks,
Does it, like a treant, speak,
Begging to follow me home
To find some shelter
From this harsh world?"
Should we be glad
That trees stay rooted?
Else, what chaos could they create
With branches swinging and scratching
At all these animals?
Losing steam...
I still ponder
On white trunks...
01 February 2016
"Unfinished Media Meanderings?" (P.o.t.D. 2/1/16)
Like a steadfast woodpecker
Meticulously digging at my brain,
The clock beats out seconds
In its Chinese Water Torture refrain...
I ask if I want
To write angry words,
Railing at dirty water
Or suicidal open mics
Or psychopaths running for President...
Just a slice of the "news"
Gathered from Facebook pizza -
Probably a bit unhealthy
If gorged on every minute
Of every day, for years;
All leading to a drying up
Of desensitized tears...
Then I focus on the color orange.
I wonder, "Will my Longhorn spirit arise,
Or will I wander down a mental alley
With a decadent, sweet fruit -
Unaware that it may soon be skinned and devoured?"
Most of the adjectives I'm drawn to
Seem to be colors -
Maybe indicative of a visual mind?
How I thirst for a lovely metaphor,
Or a twist of words
Sunk deep into my brain,
Awaiting the woodpecker,
Or possibly Pink Floyd's worms...
(Or Waits' "Sixteen Shells"...?)
I want to listen to the bards,
Instead of the knocking birds,
Or the silence of a store so bare.
So, I plug in my phone
And blast the tunes so loud,
Hoping some mix of noise
Will find a safe home
That my attention allows
To become one of my attic toys.
Meticulously digging at my brain,
The clock beats out seconds
In its Chinese Water Torture refrain...
I ask if I want
To write angry words,
Railing at dirty water
Or suicidal open mics
Or psychopaths running for President...
Just a slice of the "news"
Gathered from Facebook pizza -
Probably a bit unhealthy
If gorged on every minute
Of every day, for years;
All leading to a drying up
Of desensitized tears...
Then I focus on the color orange.
I wonder, "Will my Longhorn spirit arise,
Or will I wander down a mental alley
With a decadent, sweet fruit -
Unaware that it may soon be skinned and devoured?"
Most of the adjectives I'm drawn to
Seem to be colors -
Maybe indicative of a visual mind?
How I thirst for a lovely metaphor,
Or a twist of words
Sunk deep into my brain,
Awaiting the woodpecker,
Or possibly Pink Floyd's worms...
(Or Waits' "Sixteen Shells"...?)
I want to listen to the bards,
Instead of the knocking birds,
Or the silence of a store so bare.
So, I plug in my phone
And blast the tunes so loud,
Hoping some mix of noise
Will find a safe home
That my attention allows
To become one of my attic toys.
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