Best Moderate Poems
Moonshine, diesel fumes, and chicken wire.
Laundry hangin’ on the line.
Bible open to the Book of Job.
Backyard thick with prickly pine.
Jacket pocket full of Red Man dip.
Work boots laced with leather thongs.
Wedding portrait on the mantel piece.
Shotgun right where it belongs.
Kettle simmers on a cast iron stove.
Faucet’s drippin’ in the sink.
Matchbook underneath the table leg,
Teacup teeters on the brink.
Cobwebs draped across a window screen.
Horseshoe nailed above a door.
Things calmed down some since the weather broke.
Same sad silence as before.
Ma’s been servin’ up the buttermilk,
Boiled potatoes in a bowl.
Pa starts eatin’ while she’s sayin’ grace.
Lets her worry ‘bout his soul.
Man might say he be a slave to love.
Women make the same complaint.
Neither really know the meaning of
What it is and what it ain’t.
...When we heard of his loss we took it hard,
at first it was very hard to believe,
and it made me double my efforts to
moderate my own debauchery.
But within a year it all began again,
this time with Bomber, our hammer on the drums,
he was always something of a wild man,
and ever sober could be somewhat...dumb.
I know it sounds awful to talk like that
since I always really liked the guy,
but he was a man who lived for the moment,
and difn't reflect on things deep inside.
He also spent cash on powerful cars,
and one day after a big drinking glut,
he got in his Porsche and managed to wrap
his car around an old-growth chestnut.
Bomber somehow survived the big crash,
but would soon face long imprisonment,
the groupie in the passenger seat
took the brunt of it, died in an instant.
Bomber has never forgiven himself
for taking away someone's daughter,
they say he still cries, serving twenty years
in jail for vehicular manslaughter.
Now the band was back to Riff and myself,
hired sessions hands to fill in the gaps,
even decided it was best to go clean,
just to avoid these destructive traps.
But the damage had already been done,
two years later Riff didn't feel well,
the doctor confirmed he had H.I.V.,
and he quit touring, to conserve his health.
Now before you ask, he's doing okay,
today's drugs really knock down the disease,
the doctors all say he'll live forty years,
which is about what I expect for me.
Maybe he got it from dirty needles,
he dabbled in the hard drugs, he did,
but more likely he got it from a groupie,
hell, he has two out-of-wedlock kids!
Riff has always liked chasing the trail,
I think it goes back to his high school days,
before stardom he'd just been a band geek,
too awkward to ever get a date.
When famous he overcompensated,
he was always slipping off with a girl,
and when he received the diagnosis
it altered pretty much his entire world.
He went out and found those two children,
raises then now as a stay-at-home dad,
want them to have a good family life
and I a cannot blame the man for that.
He did built a home recording studio,
still writes and plays on all the albums,
but he'll never strut the stage with guitar,
I guess that phase of his life is now done...
CONCLUDES IN PART III
When I was fifteen my friend 'Riff' and I
started our very own garage band,
and for the first year we truly stank,
but I've always been a dedicated man.
I pushed Riff, and we quickly got better,
soon started writing songs of our own,
got a drummer, 'Bomber,' and bassist, Caplan,
folks were downloading our songs to their phones.
Soon we attracted big league attention,
and at twenty I signed us to a deal,
our album sold big, our downloads bigger,
all of our rock star dreams become real.
It was at this time I sat and thought
of the musicians who had gone before,
the mistakes and pitfalls that had dogged them,
and would be the end of many bands more.
I had no desire to exit this world,
as had the great Bonham and Mercury,
made myself a goal, even wrote it out,
I would moderate my debauchery.
This was no easy thing for a young man
now living the celebrity life,
it's not like I didn't sleep with groupies,
hell one of them would become my wife!
But I tried to avoid the easier ones,
which is a difficult thing to do,
could you turn away a smoking hot girl
wearing just a smile and tattoo?
But more often than not my will won out,
an I always used good protection,
no use throwing all your health away
in the name of temporary fun.
And it isn't like I did not drink,
I have always enjoyed a cold beer,
but I'd get drunk no more than once a week,
and hired drivers to assuage our fears.
It's also fair to say that I smoke some pot,
though honestly, it was never my thing,
but I used it to draw a hard line,
because the hard stuff was damn frightening.
The result was that I managed to keep
my head despite all the money and fame,
unfortunately I just kind of assumed
that all my band-mates would think the same way.
I guess that's a common human mistake,
as Caplan's problems soon would attest,
he wasn't satisfied with Mary Jane,
and was soon fond of heroin and meth.
He missed interviews, he even missed shows,
even woke up naked in Central Park,
whenever he was called out about it
he'd say,”Guys, I'm just having a lark!”
But it got so bad that Caplan was fired,
on him we could no longer rely,
a year later he overdosed at home,
only twenty-seven and he died...
CONTINUES IN PART II
a smile on a piece of paper
takes the cake
give me the opportunity that will work out
dx
...And though I miss Riff playing shows with me,
I can't say that his decision is wrong,
I'll take my best friend however I can,
I need him to stay healthy and strong.
As for me, I guess I have become
the land band member truly standing,
I still use the name, hired a support band,
and every year do three months of touring.
I've been married now for seventeen years,
in this business that's remarkably run,
and my three daughters do not go to sleep
worrying that I'll drink to much and be done.
Some younger bands do criticize me,
that I'm 'fake,' don't live the rock-star life,
how many of them will still do what they love
when they reach the age of forty-five.
How many of them will crack the top forty-five
each year going on twenty-five years?
How many won't make a mess of their lives?
How many of them won't even be here?
Tet I still get to play to a packed house,
make them scream, them put tears in their eyes,
knowing that words I thought up did this,
all of their joy is my natural high.
Hell, I'll still be here in twenty years,
bringing the people a grand revelry,
the greatness does not ever have to end
if you moderate the debauchery.
Get up as far as possible earlier
To be exact, before the Sun-rise
Surely body will feel damn tired
But, by practice, you can do this
In case you feel greatly sleepy
Wash your face in cool water
And pour water on your feet
Mentality will slightly change
Go not and again fall in the bed
As that will bring back only sleep
Better to sit and stay awake
Making sleepy mood die down
At old age, this will be difficult
Still, one can achieve getting up
The benefits are indeed too much
As many hours will be finely saved
Late night sitting if is avoided
Surely getting up early is wise
Fresh morning is ever top class
As the atmosphere will be calm
Sleeping must not be hindered
But, too much of it is injurious
Too little will cause tiredness
Ideal time must be arrived at
No sleep or too much of sleep
Can be easily dispensed with
By following great regularity
As moderation is the real best
Normally six hours are acceptable
If the sleep is very sound and deep
This can be the perfect duration
Due to this, extra time is gained
Once we create a useful routine
Our body will act systematically
All the parts will cooperate kindly
And our life will carry meaning
Sleep is a medicine so you take it
Moderation will bring great results
As a result of this adjustment made
Our life will face progress and joy.
The god of this world is not wholly
Wholly good or wholly evil.
He does his best to avoid extremes.
With his cornucopia he feeds the paying multitudes
While the rest discreetly hunger. He nourishes,
Admixing with good food insignificant,
That is – as far as we can tell - insignificant
Doses of toxin. We must say grace mindful
That slightly poisoned food is better than none, and
“In the long run,” as one archdeacon of economics said:
“Who cares,?“ We’ll all be dead.”
Progress was not made for man, but man
Was made to serve progress. “What progress?” you ask.
Ah, the answer to that is far, far, above us,
Filed away on the fiftieth storey.
By the way, don’t get too worried
About that radioactive leak!
An expert has assured us we need expect
Only a couple of extra cancer cases at most.
And besides, don’t rock the boat
No the god of this world is not holy.
My body's not a stone, unyielding and cold
Nor is it wood, unfeeling, and old
It's flesh and blood, with needs that must be met
Rest and relaxation, to rejuvenate and reset
Don't be a slave to labor, toiling ceaselessly
For when you're gone, your efforts will be but a memory
Those you've worked for, will call you a fool, in death
For neglecting your own needs, and sacrificing your last breath
Find solace in leisure, and joy in life's delight
Savor the fruits of your labor, before the darkness of night
Take a sip of wine, let music move your soul
Dance and merry, let your spirit be made whole
Don't hoard treasures, you'll never live to enjoy
Be moderate, and decisive, let wisdom be your employ
Let go of hatred, and malice, for they'll bring you pain
And lead to heart attacks, and a life of regret and strain
Life's short, enjoy it, while you may
Do good, create impact, but don't overdo, come what may
Consider your health, and your maker, in all you do
For a life of balance, is a life that's true.
Before modernity
Growth was only for living creatures
With limited features
But these days
Even things can blossom
With the magic of packaging
Trees with start of spring
Objects with getting packed
And I with being with you
We can all flourish
As simple as that
Democrats and Moderate Republicans
The Democrats with,
Moderate Republicans.
Always make much sense.
Jim Horn