Treasures of my soul
One day I had an old age moment
My world went kind of crazy
I really wasn’t thinking straight
My mind went kind of hazy
I gave away all worldly goods
And left loved ones behind
Looking for that greener grass
That most do never find.
I spent a year just hanging there
In a nowhere kind of land
What had happened in my mind
I did not understand
But soon my soul was called on back
To the wife I’d left behind
My darling one let me return
She was sweet, and she was kind.
That night I held her in my arms
As her tears just fell, and fell
My heart just bled, my soul screamed out
I knew I loved her well
This lady who would die for me
She cried into my soul
That day my world was born again
My being felt more whole.
Now as I write these words, the tears
Are streaming down my face
And yet these tears come from my soul
These tears are filled with grace
Because that day my lady cried
My life was turned around
I live now just to love that lady
Through this such joy I've found.
27 July 2013 @ 0405hrs.
My Grandson Jakob lives with me
He’s quite intelligent
Now he’s a ‘one of’ kind of lad
He’s deep and he’s intense
He used to go to the local school
Where bullies did abound
And though he’s such a peaceful lad
No peace for him was found.
So we took him out of school
And his mum, she teaches him
He’s showed since she has started this
That he’s anything but dim
His grades have shot up very high
Since he left that school
And no one bullies him no more
Or treats him like a fool.
And yet I hear so many say
Home schooling is real bad
So I do say to all these folk
‘Well you should see our lad’
He’s happiness just shines on through
He’s getting brighter ever day
I think home schooling is the best
In every kind of way.
18 May 2014 @ 0940hrs
Ditch Them One By One.
Are you looking at your demons?
Getting lost in all your fears
Do you have so many of them?
Do they bring you close to tears?
Well, when they come a rising
And you’re helpless like a stick
All tossed upon the ocean
And your mind is kind of sick.
Then set your mind to thinking
What be the point of worry?
Especially when things can’t be changed
It isn’t worth the flurry.
For worry eats into your soul
And rips your mind to bits
There is no good in that at all
You can be sure of it.
Picture you, when you are worried
About an up and coming thing.
Your nerves all tight, and tense, and taut
With your heart, and everything.
Just going like a pack of bulls
All pounding up the track.
The weight of all these foolish burdens
Could put you on your back.
So think of what you’re fretting for
And ask yourself this thing.
And when you’ve answered truthfully
Then too this truth just cling.
Is there any time but ‘here right now?’
When all be said and done.
Then all your many fears and worries
Just ditch them one by one.
May 6 2004
The sport of kings
The great sport of kings
They call the race game
Where horse is mistreated
For money and fame
These greedy rich people
They don’t care at all
That this sport so respected
Is so bloody cruel.
They keep they each horse
To pine by itself
With no herd to run with
They rob him of health
He suffers from ulcers
From the stuff they, he feed
They call the horse wastage
When he don’t fill their need.
Each race causes bleeding
To the poor horses lungs
As they push him so hard
So the damage is done
It takes toll on his tendons
His joints, and his bones
Then maybe they’ll shoot him
Are their hearts made of stone?
When he’s no more use
He makes a good feed
He no longer is wanted
He don’t fill their need
So he ends up as pet food
That’s how much they care
They call us humane
Yet this is quite rare!!.
6 November 2013 @ 1210hrs.
Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.
He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.
With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!
Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.
Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.
So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!
God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.
Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?
"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.
Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si
I saw a man once on TV
He was hunting grizzly bear
Then bear, he got the upper hand
And blood was everywhere
That man was in an awful state
But I lacked in sympathy
You live by sword, you die by sword
That’s just the way it be.
I knew a man, a fisherman
He hunted for big fish
But when his boat did over turn
He never got his wish
Cause big shark came and took his life
And Karma, it was done
It seems that this time hunter lost
And mother nature won.
It seems some folk are low on soul
And only live to kill
I have no sympathy for these
And nor I ever will
When the game gets turned around
They’ve only they to blame
Because they gained their pleasure from
This heartless killing game.
The age of anxiety
The age of anxiety
It seems that’s where we are
Worry, worry all the time
This does our senses mar
We worry about our money
We worry about our health
We never search for wisdom
With all its wondrous wealth.
Our hearts and brains they can’t restrain
The power of our stress
The cancer cells may start to build
And cause unhappiness
As then we worry about the death
That each of these might bring
And through the might of all this worry
Our hearts, they seldom sing.
We’re running here, we’re running there
All trying to get ahead
Our heart strings numb, and kind of dull
So weary in our tread
We must learn to smell the roses
And let the joy come in
Relaxed in mind, relaxed in body
That’s the only way to win.
7 March 2014 @ 0850hrs
Pan and Satan.
One morning I was walking in my garden
When old Jupiter came up close to me.
And standing by his side stood fair Demeter
Who smiled at me so warm and tenderly.
She said “my son we’ve come to give our blessings
And we’ve a story we would like to tell.
Of how the great God Pan turned into Satan
And child I hope that you will listen well.
For Pan he was the god of natures beauty
And he wore no taint till Satan came along.
He’d play his pipes so gaily in the meadows
Though sometimes there was mischief in his song.
Then Satan said to pan “well I don’t give a damn
I’m going to steal your horns and make you me.
Then I’ll build a master plan and strike some fear in man
So always he will live in misery.
And that’s the way old Pan became young Satan
Yet still the old one dances deep within.
But if the two had never joined together
Then where would dwell the ugliness of sin.
He wakes up in the morning
when the clock shows five
And he looks in his mirror
and sees he's still alive
He stumbles in his room
and falls down in his chair
And he listens to voices
BUT THERE'S NOBODY THERE
He was born in the summer of 94
And was found on the steps
Outside the church door
And from that day on
He would live the life of the poor
He never knew his momma
And he never knew his pa
To find them now he would need radar
At the age of sixteen he left his life in care
He had so many parents some were good
And some were poor
And others just showed him the door
Now he is back to his usual tricks
And he is looking for more kicks
So he decides to have one more score
And he slips down from his chair
And now he is lying on the floor
Poor John Henry
The boy who lived next door
Cars raced passed,
As I patiently waited,
Nervously filled with distrust.
At a crossing where safe crossing,
Is now indicated,
This courier of fortunes
Not yet out of luck.
I pick up my pace
Like a man on a mission.
My thoughts now a vortex
Of possible plays.
But to visit this office
A long planned decision.
The matter at hand
Sheer providence dictates.
The doors open freely,
I enter within,
To the cheers of firm staffers
And welcoming smiles.
Word had spread quickly
To my eyes and chagrin,
At the expense of my privacy,
My name now beguiled.
The anteroom sanctum
Filled with polite pushy haste,
Containing serious suits
Who’d not rise from their seats,
Till proof be their witness,
No moment to waste,
And the breech of my privacy?
Short apology, hurried movement,
And onward at a feverish pace!
Careful inspection and lens,
Quickly confirm my declare,
Faces stiffened to stifle,
The emotional urge;
To rejoice while an outside call
To far voices is made,
Numbers again shared,
One through six, double check,
Final digits confirmed.
Moods shifted quickly
As reality spawns.
To great cheers
And some fanfare,
Till ushered away;
With military precision,
And much tinted glass,
Police guarding me
From mayhem this day.
Since winning the big one,
I've gained many friends,
Among them some old ones
Who at best were estranged;
Now calling me sir,
With no memory of past,
Nine figures and wow,
Both handsome AND popular...
...finally, at last!
© Michael Wegman, 2014