That’s Gratitude For Ya

November 24, 2011 at 11:13 AM | Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment
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Yeah, I wrote another poem.  It’s holiday-themed.  Enjoy, or piss off.  Whatev.

I have so much to be thankful for
As I reflect upon my life
I’m thankful for the challenges
That come with all this strife

I’m grateful I don’t live
In 3rd world poverty
According to Sally Struthers
It would suck monumentally

I’m glad I have a job
Even though it’s not enough
My misplaced sense of purpose
Won’t buy food and stuff

I’m blissfully aware
Of the growling in my tummy
It’s easier to diet
When I don’t have any money

I’m happy for my home
And the roof over my head
And the fear of losing everything
Is what gets me out of bed

I’m grateful for the mortgage
That I can no longer afford
And I’m blissful that utilities
Cannot be ignored

If I don’t pay my phone bill–
(And Im glad I figured out)
Then collectors cannot call me
And rain down upon my drought

I’m grateful for the government
Watching over me
I’m glad they regulate everything
Including how I pee

But at least they won’t forget me
As the end approaches nigh
For them I have a purpose,
Until they’ve bled me dry

I’m happy about my vices
They get me through the day
And if they shorten up my life
It’s less I have to pay

I’m grateful for my options,
If retirement I seek
I can die on Tuesday, and retire
Later on that week


Happy Father’s Day

June 20, 2010 at 10:12 PM | Posted in Personal | Leave a comment
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It hurts if I think about it
So when I want to wallow in it
I can, with gusto
But I don’t want to talk it about okay?

Here’s the thing
I don’t want you to tell me its okay
I don’t want you to console me or
Try to make me feel better about it
I don’t want to hear that its not that bad
Or that things will get better

Because maybe they will and maybe they wont
And I don’t want to speak about
The thing I dare not say
My own admission of guilt is mine and mine
And how can I counsel others when I have failed so
How can I listen and empathize
When my own sins are so much worse
What have I done?  Oh, God, what have I done?

Maybe it’s not that bad but it feels that way to me
And to the ones I’ve done wrong-
My children-
It feels that way to them
I’ve tried, over and again, to make amends
Two steps forward and three steps back
Is such a funny cliche for such a horrible situation

Here I sit, on Father’s Day, alone.
Or surrounded by people other than my children
Which, today, is the same thing.
It’s not fair…it’s not
She has the kids
She has custody
She has their hearts
I have photos and memories, all outdated.

I could wait for a phone call, or
I could take the initiative
Like I haven’t done so many times before
I can place a call, or send a text, or write on Facebook,
Or I could drive the many miles
Or send up smoke signals
Or think happy thoughts

I don’t want any more of this pain
My chest–my heart–I cant take it
I don’t want
I don’t want any more holidays
I just…I surrender.  Please, no more.

Coffee House Jamboree

January 27, 2010 at 3:30 PM | Posted in Journal | Leave a comment
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Eclectic in measure,
But I don’t like the coffee
Where Suits and Hippies mingle.
A student writes a paper
And an artist sits and broods–
Because that’s what they do.
A young black businesswoman
And a gay Asian preppie are
Served by the perky goth chick
Who doesn’t get irony.
Stereotypes have run amok here,
At this intersection of life and caffeine–
And it lends to my feeling of hipness.
I feel very cool sitting here;
The atmosphere is electric,
Even with the old people
Who read the obits like racing forms. 

What eluded me as a young man
I have finally achieved
And it’s bittersweet:
Middle-aged, fat, and cranky,
I’m cooler than I ever was when I was
Fresh-faced, wide-eyed, innocent and clumsy.
Now grizzled and wary on the outside,
Bitter and jaded on the inside–
I’ve developed layers.
I feel like a swollen Kurt Vonnegut,
Thinking deep thoughts of civil unrest
And a bagel thick with cream cheese.
The detached and disaffected youth
Think they are cool because
They are jaded and disgusted with society,
But they got nothing on the adults.
Listen, punks:  if you think you are jaded now,
Let’s see how you feel after you
Helplessly pay taxes that you can’t afford
To a government you don’t trust
To pay for shit you don’t believe in
And your hopes and dreams fade away
Like your energy and good looks.
Your life and your youth will slip easily
From your fingers and be replaced with
Poor vision and knees that hurt all the time.
For over twenty years I’ve been an adult.
Or at least for the last two or three…
I don’t know if I’m more angry about
what is happening or that I can’t do
Anything about it.

Sitting here in shorts and black dress socks
And a shirt that doesn’t quite fit–
I am a rebel and an anarchist.
I feel very cool.
If only I could get the goth chick’s attention;
I need more coffee, but she thinks
I’m a creep because I stare at her cleavage.
I’m not really a pervert.  Well, maybe.
It just reminds me of the promise of youth–
Christ, I need some decaf.

You can all snap your fingers now.

‘Twas The Week After Christmas

September 30, 2005 at 5:18 PM | Posted in Personal | Leave a comment
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Originally published 01/03/05 at
I Promised, or threatened, to write about my Christmas experience. I
have had time to reflect, and here it is. A poem, for your enjoyment.

As I get up, a bright new day:
I’m off to work, I’m on my way
My wife stayed home, she didn’t go
She called to say she wouldn’t show.

They told her that would be just fine
Because they know it’s Christmas time.
Buying and wrapping and decorating fun
By the time I get home it will all be done.

“Look,” they will tell me, when I get home
“All is prepared, like a Christmas poem.”
It looks very nice, and their faces are glowing
It’s wonderful to see all they are showing.

I go to bed tired, but fairly content
I know the reason for all of this is meant.
I wake up again, not sure of the date
But I do know that I don’t have time to wait

Regardless it is a work-day for me.
For lately most of them are, you see.
There are mouths to feed and bills to pay.
Bleary-eyed but dutifully, I am on my way.

My wife goes into work that day,
But she gets to leave early and that’s okay.
She does all the shopping, the whole entire list
Rampaging the stores, items clenched in her fist.

Whe I arrive home, the house is alit
As well as inside, all proper and fit.
They are all baking cookies, with glasses of milk
Wearing Christmas pajamas, of satin and silk

I wanted to help, but they were all done
“You should have been here, it was much fun.”
I get undressed and go to bed
Completely unsure of when I had beed fed.

So again, I awake, and begin my day
I wake up the wife, for I have to say
“Get up or you’ll be late for work”
She rolled over and snorted, “Leave me alone, you jerk!

I don’t have to be at work today.”
It wasn’t fair, for me to go and her to stay.
She sighed, “It’s almost Christmas, there is much to prepare;
Presents to wrap, and decorations to flair.

Lot and lots of cooking and canoodling.
There is much I will be do-doodling.
Go to work, I’ll get up soon.”
Eyes closed, voice trailing, “At least by noon.”

I hop in the car and begin to drive
Fuming and bent, I thusly arrive.
Another long day, full of long hours
I daydream of having mystical powers

The thing I would wish more than anything,
Is to know the joy this season should bring.
It is now Christmas Eve, and I’m not to be found
Of course I’m at work, and it’s beginning to sound

Like I do this on purpose, but it’s not really true.
I just have to work, it’s just what I do.
I’m bitter and jaded, and a little bit pissed
Thinking of all the things I have missed.

At last I am home, but every one is gone.
All that is left is just one more dawn.
At last the big day, I awake bright and early.
Still feeling bitter and a little bit surly.

But I’ve really got no reason to moan;
Today, at least, I get to stay home.
Family arrives from near and far,
We joke about where to park all the cars

This is the moment that makes it worthwhile
As we eat and drink and catch up with a smile.
Now I did want to tell you my wife was upset
And because of that part of my day was spent

Staying out of the way so she could play hostess,
But that’s not what this is about, I think, at least mostly.
She said she was upset because things weren’t quite so,
But I feel it’s because I wasn’t there enough, you know?

It wasn’t a great Christmas, but okay, to be sure
Especially after all that we’ve had to endure.
As we lay down that night, I should have told her,
“Next year will be better…” but I just held her shoulder

But I will try harder, and I will make it right.
Merry Christmas to all. Man, I’m tired. Good night.

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