Miscellaneous Poetry

Misc Poetry

Talk Show

Dirty little secrets
If the truth be known.
Tawdry little affairs exposed
We're voyeurs in our homes.
All is out in the open
Nothing is concealed.
Nothing is sacred.
Everything revealed.
Tears shed in anger.
Tears shed in shame.
Fingers always pointing,
But no one takes the blame.
Audiences enthusiastically jeer
A wholly unsuspecting guest
Who responds in defiance
With words God never blessed.
My life in comparison
Seems so inconsequential.
But I'll skip the notoriety
And keep my life confidential.

Unemployed

I read the want ads faithfully
Looking for the ideal job.
When I see what's being offered
I can only weep and sob.

Several ads seek truck drivers
And although I think it's swell,
I find I'm not qualified
Cause I lack a CDL.

The restaurant business looks promising.
"All positions" catches my eye.
The only obstacle I must overcome is
"Experienced only need apply."

Plenty of vacancies in sales.
Maybe that's the route to take.
But working on a commission means
Only hunger and heartbreak.

I'm at my wits end,
And there is a sense of doom.
Guess I better keep playing the lottery
And hope my numbers come up soon.

The Effects of Chronic Illness

They think that I am lazy.
They just don't seem to get it,
So I try to block them out.
I try not to sweat it.

My cheeks are nice and rosy
Giving me that healthy glow.
If they could only comprehend
Why I can't get up and go.

Seems I'm barely out of bed
When fatigue overpowers
And back to bed I go
For just a few more hours.

The trips to the store
Are kept absurdly brief.
Just an item or two,
In and out just like a thief.

Plans are merely dreams
Just too complex to commit.
Friends waft away;
Maybe we weren't that closely knit.

It's not the life I envisioned,
But it's the life I'm forced to face;
So humor me abit
And give me a little space.

Life's Race

Although the year is young,
I feel caught in a trap.
I'm sitting here on the sofa
With my stomach on my lap.

A closet full of clothes
Are viewed with tightly pursed lips.
I am heavy with despair
As none of them will fit.

Decision time has neared,
And I fully realize
It's time to rise up
And try to exercise.

With single minded focus
I head out to the mall
To join the health conscious
Who also heard the call.

So round and round I walk
Determined and fixated.
I'm going to lose some weight.
Hey, this isn't complicated!

Miles and miles of traipsing.
It just doesn't figure.
Instead of getting smaller
I got a little bigger.

Yes, it's made me sadder;
But I'm going to step up the pace
To show the world once and for all
I'm still a runner in life's race.

The Last Supper

The last supper
When was it?
I can't recall.
So very hungry
for nourishment
for a sympathetic ear
for the absence of silence.
When was it?
Last month?
Last year?
This lifetime
or another?
The plate empty
Utensils untouched
My fantasy
the dessert
The last supper
Not yet consumed
Unlike me.

Running

I'm running
Out of time
Out of space
Out of place

I'm running
In my mind
Being chased, encased
Replaced.

I'm running
A fine line
Maybe too steep
Maybe crumpled in a heap.

I'm running
Don't look behind
Not gaining ground
Can't hear a sound.

I'm running
Running blind
I ran to flee
And ran into me.

My House

There's no need to knock,
Though visitors are seldom.
This may be my house,
But you are always welcome.

Make yourself at home.
How about a beer;
Come on in and sit awhile.
I'm so glad you are here.

Tell me what you've been up to.
Tell me how you're coping.
Tell me everything.
My door is always open.

Would you like something to eat?
Are you hungry? Now be truthful.
It's no bother at all.
I like feeling useful.

If I start to chatter incessantly,
Please feel free to speak up.
Sometimes I get carried away,
And I prattle a bit too much.

Yes, I know this is my house,
But everyone needs his space;
And I am deeply honored
That you have chosen this place.

If this should be a refuge
From the world outside,
It's quite all right by me.
Don't worry, I won't pry.

For everyone needs a place
To rest, to think, to dream.
Even to lower his defenses
Without it being seen.

My door is never closed,
And you'll never have to ask.
Yes, I know this is my house;
So come on in and relax.

THE LAST TRAIN

The last train up north,
The final viewing of red and golden leaves
Clinging tenuously to life.
We try valiantly not to grieve.

The locomotive's undulating motion
Lulls us into a sense of well being.
We gaze out the window
Without actually ever seeing.

The pain of yesterday seems miles ago.
Rhythmically chugging we roar down the track.
With aspirations towards tomorrow
We dare not look back.

Brief eye contact, a smile, a nod.
A traveler all alone.
We wonder if his life
Has been better than our own.

Creeping into the depot
The whistle sounds a familiar chord.
We exit one by one, passing other travelers
As the engineer calls "All aboard!"

A LETTER IN THE MAIL

A letter has arrived today.
I lost my anticipatory glow
When I noted the return address.
It's from my HMO.

I'm informed there's been a merger
That will enhance my benefits.
Apparently I've been newly classified
In their system under "idiots".

There's been a few slight changes
We know you'll just adore.
The benefit for us also is enhanced
So your premiums will be more.

Procedures that once were covered
Will no longer be free.
From now on for mammograms
You'll be remitting a small fee.

In fact all x-rays ordered by your doc
Will automatically generate a bill.
We're weeding out the frauds,
The hypochondriacs and the ill.

Our provider list has expanded.
Offering good service is key.
But remember any changes made
Must go through your PCP.

I lay the letter down uneasily.
Their words were oh so slick.
The sadness of an HMO is that
It is not for the poor or the sick!

WINTERTIME BLUES

They circle like vultures,
Those men with the plows,
Prowling the neighborhood
Wiping sweat from their brows.

Always vigilant and observant,
They cruise the snowy scene.
It's their ominous duty
To keep our streets clean.

The last neighbor disappears inside.
Driveways have finally been cleared.
Time for our guys to show their stuff;
Time to switch into high gear.

Aligning themselves with the curb,
They lower the blade with aplomb.
Chuckling, guffawing and slapping the wheel,
The good times have just begun.

Rev up the motors, give it the gas.
The neighbors glare in disbelief.
The men with the plows smile and wonder,
"Hey, folks, what's the beef?"

Looking deranged and defiant
The neighbors assemble to gripe.
All their efforts and hard work,
All undone in one swipe.

Fists shaking at the dastardly deed;
Then slowly coming uncurled.
To grab the shovel one more time,
Is there no justice in this world.?

NEW FRIENDS

I've got a set of new friends.
Please don't think me deluded,
But my time is sparse
And you are not included.

We all go out drinking
And we like to play around.
They're not the highest class of people
And morals can't be found.

We stay up through the night
And I help them all I can.
It's making me a wreck,
But they accept me as I am.

If I have a conscience
It's buried oh so deep;
So keep the lectures to yourself.
I'm tired and need sleep.

You may think me contemptible.
You may think my life a sham;
But the things that you don't know,
My new friends understand.

They'll be there should I call;
They'll never steer me wrong;
So like the winter coat I shed,
I'm telling you so long.