Long Cut up Poems
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after years of working &
raising the kids, whom both adopted,
ended up with problems that came from
undisclosed heredity,
the two had put aside a
nest egg, as so many did
in their generation,
growing up with parents who
remembered the depression &
what it was like to have nothing---
hearing everyday that
“a penny saved is a penny earned,”
putting together a life for themselves
while taking care of their own parents
as they passed on
as people do, as we all will,
they thought that when illness started to show its face
in the latter years
that retirement & more time spent
nurturing each other back to health,
would be the most appropriate way of doing things &
so it went---
mother was the first to walk into the hospital
to get cut up &
upon returning home,
father had to take care of her, full time,
so he retired early---
at this time,
the economy was said to be doing “well,”
and nothing was being said of the atrocities to come,
so father, always trying to be fiscally sound,
invested a good portion of their savings,
thinking that over time, it would multiply,
like the broker assured him &
the two would be able to stay retired,
living off what they had saved,
as had been planned---
but father was next into the light blue gown &
being told there was cancer growing inside him,
the worry shifted just as mother was getting better,
to the new horror---
& while the two worked on keeping each other
emotionally sane, while their own bodies started to
give up on them,
the meltdown came,
like a tropical storm of immeasurable proportion
sweeping in from some angle that couldn’t be detected
by any formerly successful means &
the unplanned agony began.
the money lost by others with whom a working couple
had put all their trust,
could never be regained &
their bodies now exhausted by a life of work,
recovering & enduring illness,
would have the most difficult time trying to make it again
in the 21st century work force---
so as the stress came on full
the strain joined in &
as the strain & stress pummeled them both,
all that was left was the re-mortgaging of their house,
the last thing they wanted to give up,
that very vital shelter over both of their heads,
now being hocked in the system’s pawn shop,
allowing them nothing to pass on to their children,
allowing them to never stop agonizing over each passing day
wondering just when the ball will completely drop.
Can a man – all alone - foist a god upon his fellows
Even if it’s only himself
And they his subjects
G.. is Akbar!
Does the muezzin from the minaret of Qoutoub-Minar
look up or
down to the illiterate savant emperor
whose newly-ordered cosmos
much as Tamerlane and Genghis Khan's blood
mixed gods
invented the Gysin-Burroughs cut-up and fold-in method
a cornucopian chimera
shi'ite-sunnite-kharidjites
hindu/buddhist-jain
confucian-taoist/zoroastrian
orthodox-christian/judaic
saivite-vaisnavite
mahayanist-theravadite
shintoist-zen-chan
agnostic-atheist
A…. is Great!
In the begining there was no VERB for him
In the end
from
"brahmana" Himalayas to the "asurya" Deccan
from
Ghazna and Kabul to the spent chugged mouth of the Ganges
where bloomed the Allah-Upanishad
One common language
One uncommon religion
One classless society
One mutually nourishing art
One scientific quest
and the sweet music of friendly disputation
within then the world’s vastest book and art collection
though knowingly
took to wife an Hindu princess
chose his prime counsellor from among the Brahmin élite
where within hearing distance lithesome nymphs bathed in scented milk
his victoriously wearied warrior limbs back from punitive expeditions
through Panipat Delhi Agra Punjab Gwalior Ajmer
Gujarat Bengal Sind Orissa Baluchistan Ahmadnagar Kashmir
Khandesh
to circumscribe the sub-continent
a Ceasar at the court of Fatehpur-Sikri
Akbar is ___!
Who would parse and complete or conclude the syllogism
For « One » who dared abolish the jiziyah
Note: Jalal ud-Din Muhammad Akbar (1542-1605), the third Mughal Emperor, edicted that muezzins should herald the rising of the sun by the call: Allah-u-Akbar!
The « jiziyah » , a word of Arabic origin, meaning a tax levied on non-Muslims who wished to conserve their own property, and imposed by the Moghul sovereigns – on and off - in India, was abolished by Akbar in his seventh year of accession to the throne.
©: T. Wignesan, March 13, 1992 (from the sequence/collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
If you are now reading this note
I am hoping you’ll understand,
I didn’t mean for any of this,
was trying to be a good man.
All that I was trying to do
was support my only son, Dan.
It started when he was eleven,
and declared to all that he was ‘trans.’
I’ve always been a progressive,
and though the news struck me at first,
I wanted to do right by my son,
wanted to lighten the mental hurt,
to be stuck in the wrong body…
I did not know what would be worse.
He would need help to transition,
so we began a doctor search.
Now we lived in small town Kansas,
it’s not known for progressive ways,
most doctors would not help us out,
wouldn’t give us the time of day.
We had to go to Topeka,
where a man heard what we had to say,
a doctor who would help us out,
as long as we were willing to pay.
We started with hormone blockers,
to hold off the male puberty,
that was followed by estrogen,
he grew out his hair to look pretty.
At first Dan seemed much better off,
for several months looked quite happy,
though didn’t like having to wait
whole year for the surgery.
But the day came, and the day went,
and then Dan’s transition was complete,
he now called himself Daniella
to any people he might meet.
Soon enough the whispers went ’round
to all the people on the street,
but I cared not for their ‘old’ views,
Daniella they would not defeat.
My parents stopped talking to me,
said allowing this was insane,
to cut up a child’s body
who had an undeveloped brain.
They said it was child abuse,
his future nothing but pain,
and what would happen if he grew
and came to regret this drastic change?
I called them out as ‘filthy transphobes,’
said they had hateful points of view.
My father just gave me a sneer,
and said, “Your son’s life is screwed.”
Of course then I just doubled down,
and said, “I have no use for you.”
I haven’t talked to them since then,
I so believed my words were true…
For the next few years things went well,
just Danielle, me, and my wife,
and my son seemed to adapt well
to the choice he had made in life.
But about the time he turned fifteen
something about him didn’t seem right,
one night I found hm in his room
Staring dolefully at a knife.
CONTINUES IN PART II.
You can call it love
That I know for sure
But, I think it is something else
Something so much more
It's a feeling like no other
You know it when it hits
It's when two things go together
When it's perfect, when it fits
You know the special feeling
It makes you feel quite whole
It's like you've been down to the crossroads
You made a deal and sold your soul
It may just come by once in life
I got lucky, it came twice
The first time, on a frozen pond
When my blades cut up the ice
It was peaceful, perfect, flowing
The ice and I were one
I'd be out there from sun up
Until the day was done
I remember people cheering
Those cheers forever will I hold
This was what I wanted
The feeling was pure gold
Time went by like normal
I had the feeling, but not quite
I found love, but, it was different
Even though it felt so right
Like I said, it's different
Because it doesn't love you too
It's not like loving someone
I can't explain it quite, can you?
Like I said, for some folks
It may come by them twice
I'm am blessed it happened
This time off the ice
You know when in a movie
The sunbeam comes down from the sky
And lights up something special
You know the scene, don't lie
The hockey was my vision
But there was something missing still
I loved the feel of freedom
But, there was something missing still
It Michigan it hit me
It caught me by surprise
I was looking at guitars one day
It hit me hard between the eyes
Worse than any check I'd felt
Worse than popping out a knee
A old Washburn guitar
Was hanging, taunting me
Of all the things upon the wall
All the guitars holding court
This Washburn said you want me
More than playing at your sport
I took it down and held it
Like the first woman that I'd had
It's curves gave me that feeling
It made me feel quite glad
This guitar's full of music
Full of songs to still be sung
Stories of others and my lifetime
Maybe this poem will be one
Most people get the feeling
In their lifetime once or twice
I got mine later with the Washburn
I still get it on the ice.
I wrote this for a friend who tried to describe to me about playing pro hockey, and how his love of playing guitar has been reignited.
#hockey #music #guitar #washburn #ice #feeling #love
I had a woman but she's gone for good
I could get her back, don't know if I should
It's alright though I can get many more
They call 'em callgirls but I called 'em whores
I gave 'em drinks 'till they couldn't see straight
I guess I did that too, it was my fate
We woke up early, around 2 PM
"Get your stuff and leave." I told them
I got a new group of girls every night
If they stayed longer we would start to fight
They said they needed more, what did they need?
They never wanted my love, they wanted my speed
I was partyin' way too hard
But it's all I had at the time
Never thought it would be this hard
Just tried to make due for the time
Got in my porsche and went for a drive
I never drove too fast, I'd go 105
Cops tried to pull me over but I just showed my face
They said, "Oh, sorry sir, carry on with your race."
Who was I racin'? I had nobody
If I wanted friends I had to pay fees
I stopped at home and I moved a few lines
If I get caught, I'd just pay their fines
I was partyin' way too hard
But it's all I had at the time
Never thought it would be this hard
Just tried to make due for the time
My friends were fake and the sex wasn't great
I guess havin' money and fame was my fate
They told me they loved me, I never believed
What a tangled mess of webs I had weaved
Headed to the party, the hottest spot
I brought my coke, my girls, I liked what I got
When I showed up they crowded around me
I didn't know anywhere I'd rather be
We headed inside, I cut up some lines
I let it loose, I cut all my binds
I said, "Let's party all night, and everyday."
Partied all my life, it's the only way
I was partyin' way too hard
But it's all I had at the time
Never thought it would be this hard
Just tried to make due for the time
My family was gone, and my friends? They weren't real
I didn't want to be here, I didn't want to feel
The coke was too strong, the girls were too fake
I tried to make it good, I just needed a break
But my life caught up with me, it was too fast
Partied too hard and long, my life had passed
I partied way too hard
But it's all I had at the time
I never thought it would be that hard
I just couldn't make due at the time
Running this way and that, in search of some adventure new
The roads ran their course with flatirons the ruts not few
Over hill, mountain, river, valley, flood, glen and dale
To the open sea with long, sandy beaches and cut-up shale
To found a village here or there or town or port to call
Imports to the harbor, markets to open, and stores to maul
With Able’s fruit—either high or low— yielding no good life
The towns looked above to stave away constant strife
With no blossom, the towns built upward to store some treasure
The good ol’ boys breaking stocks to gain some measure
Breaking stocks not bread, with yield upon yield
Or bricks into actions, building high away from the fields
And the New Babylon, like F. Scott predicted in prose
Where nothing feels decent or good and nothing ever grows
Has grown higher, perhaps, than even ancient Sumer could
And his books out of print, out of font, are not printed in wood
All that remains of his stories, east egg and west
Are programmers building forms from programs, no longer missed
The lonely feeling of afternoon apperitifs or stiff strong drink
Even the sparklin’ ladies in their feather, plush and mink
Soar beyond the lay of the skyline if not the lay of the bed
With nothing but wonder, inclination, nothing but dread
How much emptiness this massive wealth can buy
Without really any curious gal or curious guy
The world’s tallest buildings reaching into ‘thereal night
And lights flashing on hovering spacecraft above, whose flight
Orbits the continents, oceans, floodplains, and polar caps
When pressing on towards Venus or Neptune will open their flaps
Look outward beyond towards other planets near and far
Within the Solar Domain and towards them that wander
The astronauts in future, and from before, won’t know why they came
to this planet Earth, since they will have left with nothing, even blame
Blame to exist, exist to blame, never settling here or anywhere
Where the grass is the stars beyond bluer than blue, or crystal stairs
With melted hearts, like sugar lumps, full of air, full of plump
Bumpin’ up slow, passin’ Dante on the left–or Janice Bishop’s rump
Dissect is a no-nonsense word, meaning to cut up, to cut open, to examine in detail. My first recalled encounter with dissecting took place in my high school biology class where we dissected a frog. That was more than 50 years ago, and I suspect that frog dissecting is no longer allowed. But a reexamination( a dissecting) of The Declaration of Independence is providing me an even greater appreciation for the determination of our forefathers to be liberated and free at all cost.
Were I to fully dissect the Declaration of Independence there would be multiple parts of the examination. I will, therefore, be brief in exploring a few noteworthy aspects of the declaration.
In as much as their belief in equality was limited and selective, let it suffice to say that 'equality beliefs' was a work in progress. But there can be no denial, history revisionists notwithstanding, that they were firm in their beliefs about Truth, Creator, Supreme Judge, God-Entitlements, and Divine Endowments.
243 years ago, thirteen colonies represented by 54 men declared their independence from Great Britain, the most powerful nation on earth. They had very little military power but were energized with purpose and unity. Clearly, the weapons of their warfare were not carnal but mighty through God. They were neither fearless nor fools but very courageous.
They had no illusions of grandeur nor delusions of haloes, but their cause was just, their pursuit was righteous, and their reliance and dependency were upon The Supreme Judge of the world. With a trusting heart full of steam, never impeded by things they did not comprehend, impelled by a cause,
and pushing forward full speed ahead, they were 'all in'. There was no doubt about their commitment as expressed in their own words in the last sentence, "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor".
06282019cj
I wake to hear you crying, calling out to me.
I wearily open my eyes, it’s only half past 3.
I sigh, roll over, cover my ears, trying to ignore.
But your persistent need for me, just grows more and more.
Eventually I go to you, and see you’ve wet the bed.
I feel bad making you wait so long, but these nights fill me with dread.
I clean you up and change the sheets, get you a small drink.
I go to leave, but you reach for me. And my heart starts to sink.
I climb into bed beside you and cuddle you in close.
I’m exhausted but I know it’s now, that you need me the most.
I push your hair away from your eyes, and slowly stroke your face.
Sing to you a lullaby, the song Amazing Grace.
Eventually you settle and we get much needed rest.
Some nights feel worse than others, our very own endurance test.
Your night-time escapades don’t stop you waking with the sun.
I sigh, remembering a time when my life was more fun.
I help you dress, and you complain about the clothes I choose.
I ask you to pick for yourself, but of course you refuse.
You watch tv and there is peace, if only for a while.
You sing along to the music, and I cannot help but smile.
I take you out for dinner and have to cut up your food.
You spill your drink, a woman tuts, people can be so rude.
I long for the future when this is not the case.
But immediately feel guilty when I see your innocent face.
We go home and I give you a bath, and everything’s wrong for you.
The shampoo hurts, the water’s cold, and then you need a poo!
Finally, your pyjamas are on, and I settle you down to sleep.
You fight it, I am so drained, I feel like I could weep.
I know I should enjoy this time, but sometimes it’s so tough.
I love you so much, but I wonder, if I am enough.
I’m lucky just to have you here, and I know that one day.
I will look back and regret, wishing your life away.
Eventually you fall asleep, and I creep out the door.
Into my own bed exhausted, I can’t do this anymore.
I find myself daydreaming, remembering a time long gone.
Cos even though you’re still alive, God how I miss you, Mum.
I have a picture of a tree,
its gnarled trunk thick and wide,
support branches reaching a hundred feet high
Once started as a seed,
has grown to become truly mighty,
generations have played under her leaves,
climbing high into her crown,
a dizzying height,
tire tubes and swings,
wore deep grooves into her lower branches,
evidence of childhood attention,
remnants of an old tree house,
still may be seen,
yet, can no longer be reached,
to high the old oak tree
I love Mary encased in a heart
carved into her bark,
hastily scratched through,
then added Sue, Lucy, and June,
all share the same fate,
carved by a young fellow
whose name is unknown
When in full regalia a majestic sight,
her leaves rustle softly in the wind,
designed to send gentle breeze,
where lunch is laid,
and children play
For eons she has pleasured many,
harmed none,
adding beauty and grace,
to the old home place
In her time,
she had weathered many a storm,
although, her limbs and leaves did shake,
she stood defiant in their wake,
she stood her ground,
refusing to be brought down
Now I know she was awfully old,
she looked terrifically strong,
as big as she was,
some of her roots, her foundation,
had cracked, been ripped apart,
deep scars that never healed,
ran throughout,
never deeply rooted from the start,
her massive weight,
kept her, from falling apart
Then came along the worst she had ever seen,
throwing at her winds over one thirty,
her powerful branches,
reaching so high,
snap like twigs, are cast aside,
her broad trunk taking full impact,
finally succumbs,
pushed over onto her back,
her foundation ripped from the ground,
stood skeletal, hovering above,
what was once her majestic crown
If you listened closely when she hit the ground,
the moan of hundreds of children
crying out, was her last sound
She lay there for weeks,
until, finally,
cut up, burned, and hauled off,
nothing remained
I have a picture of a tree,
where once stood a mighty oak,
a miniature shoot now free of the land,
reaches ever higher
One
Chloee? Yes Reginald!
Why do they call us Dachshunds, Wiener Dogs?
Maybe they call you a Wiener Reginald!
You cut me off at the legs with that one Chloee!
Two
Chloee? Yes Reginald! Have you ever smelled mothballs.
No Reginald it's too difficult to spread their tiny legs.
My that was a low blow Chloee. You wish Reginald, you wish!
Three
Reginald? Yes Chloee! I was at the park with my owner playing
Frisbee. As I watched the Frisbee I wondered why it was getting
bigger and bigger as it came towards me than it hit me.
Four
Chloee? Yes Reginald!
I was just lying down in the park the other day watching a Labrador
chasing his tail an' I thought ain't that amazing how easily amused
Labradors are! Then I realized I was watching the Labrador chase his tail.
Five
Reginald? Yes Chloee! I've written a poem it goes like this.
"Roses are red. Violets are blue. Some poems rhyme. And some don't!"
Six
Chloee? Yes Reginald! I was at a restaurant, I ordered a chicken sandwich,
but I don’t think the waitress understood me. Because she said,
“How would you like your eggs?” So I tried to answer her anyhow. I said,
“Incubated! And then raised, and then beheaded, and then plucked,
and then cut up, and then put onto a grill, and then put onto a bun.
Damn! It’s gonna take a while. I don’t have time. Scrambled!”
The Finale
A Dachshund walks under a bar. I mean walks into a bar. Goes to the
bar and sits down. Asks the bartender "can I have a Budweiser Light
Beer" the bartender serves him and informs him "that will be seven dollars".
The Dachshund pays. The bartender keeps looking at the Dachshund.
Finally the Dachshund yells "What?" The bartender explains "no I'm
sorry we just never get Dachshunds in this bar." The Dachshund replies
"I'm not surprised...at seven dollars for a beer..."
The Encore
Reginald? Yes Chloee! When you cut your nails, do you file them?
Yes Chloee as a matter of fact I do! Pity! I just throw mine out!
Curtains!
01~10~2015
Sponsor: rob carmack
Contest: Daschunds