Long Enough already Poems
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From sounds heard on eardrums
and hair cells in the inner ears,
we refract and warp their tones
into sound shadow puppet-plays,
in the mind’s disc-jockey's booth,
picking and choosing what to keep or lose,
softening hard edges, to time-warp what we can bear,
bending the ear away from dissent,
replaying covers of old favorites
when we refuse the unfamiliar.
The unwanted drifts into static noise,
we switch off midway,
we look away, hands over ears—
we laugh to force a chorus line.
We get up and dance
to shake away the doubt now stirred,
quick-stepping away sideways
to avoid toes being crushed,
when what’s heard moves up too close—
too close to the bone.
“That can’t be true.”
“Can’t apply to me, surely.”
“Where did you hear such nonsense?”
“It doesn’t really matter anyway.”
“Enough already—OK.”
Midway, the call we're on
strangely is made to fade,
it seems to breaks up—
"Sorry you've dropped out"
"It's garbled"
"Say again, Speak up"
Or the soundproof door
quietly, gently swings shuts
before the message is complete.
Interrupting:
"Yeah, that's Right"
"I Know what you mean"
"That's so True"
"Everyone Agrees, Sure!"
We know what we like
the home disk jockey to spin:
old favorites,
covers and tributes
echoing into sound shadows
along narrow self-worn and self-torn
protected shadow lit pathways.
Your choice my committee said. But not human, Bo added.
Bo is the head, and the most eager spiritual guide to get me to level yes.
Bo can get re-assigned when I hit mastery.
When he first undertook project me he said we have all the time in the world. Ha!
If you think heaven is complicated, wait until you have to choose your re-assignment.
Re-entry? No problem. Family choosing, another story.
Why not human? I asked Bo.
You have mastered the human level, he reminded me.
The others threw back their heads and laughed.
They did not think so, but Bo is incredibly persuasive, and he persuaded them that I had.
They knew they had been half-duped, but they liked Bo and me, and they wanted to move on.
There are only six levels to master after human, Bo reminded me. But you get to decide
Your own order. You have fifteen minutes to decide.
Apparently the committee had another recruit arriving soon.
I choose dog, I told them.
Dog sometimes does not last past puppy, Angel Six reminded me.
Angel Seven gave him a squelching look which is rare in heaven.
My only other choices were bunny, cat, deer, eagle, and dolphin.
Bunnies are often coyote food; I am haughty enough already, so cat was out.
I despise the idea of spreading lime disease, so not deer.
Flying appeals to me, but I do not feel mature enough to handle a beak yet.
Crumb! I meant to say dolphin. I turned to see if I could change it, but they had dissipated.
With any luck this reincarnation will not last half as long as the last one where I lived to be ninety-two.
I don't know what I want to write
But I believe anything I write would be
what God wanted
You want to bet?
Let's see now
I will write about whatever you want to write
Do you just write whatever you want to write
or you write whenever it is in you
God puts it in you?
I 'd like to think that I just write whatever
I darn well pleased
But it is not the case
If it is not in me
I can't write it
What is it?
Other calls it muse
Some call it inspiration
attention, source, seed, germ
Whatever you call it
It is from one source
and that is -God
Ahh you give too much credit to Him already
You'd better
Anything you said and do is from the One person
And that is Him
You cannot do anything if He does not want you
to do
You cannot say anything if He does not want you
to say it
So what is left?
Do I have control over anything I say and do?
Nope
You are for the taking
He has you
And He is going to do whatever according to
His master plan
Do you think you have a different idea?
The next time you want to do something
see if you can do it
That is to tempt God
I wouldn't want to be in your shoes
But that is enough already
Why don't people want to believe
that anything they said and do
is what God wants them to say and do?
Pride
They think they have superior ideas
They think they can do all things
and not suffer consequences
God will have you learned
Either from Him
or from your mistakes
Whatever you choose it
It will be done for you
Just like the prodigal son
who had learned from his mistakes
We too must learn from our mistakes
But that doesn't mean that God doesn't do it
cause it
When will we ever learn?
Ok, what do you want to write?
t’s been enough already
So one sided
I gave you all of me
Only to ride this roller coaster
Losing you at every drop
To have you fall from the heavens as I reach the top of the coaster
To start over again to only lose you at every drop
My heart shattered enough times with you
Never did you care how bad it hurt me
Never accepting your own actions
Only blaming me
Blaming me … for loving you
Wanting to have a life with you
Wanting to wake up with you everyday
To want to fall asleep with you
Just spending time together like a normal couple
Yet we weren’t normal
I love you too much
You have attachment disorders
We could never get on the same page
You wanted me but only at your convenience
We’re I truly loved you
Unconditionally
But you really didn’t want any of it… commitment, life partner
It was all talk from an alcoholic
Just talk no commitment
So sad because we almost had it all
Could of
Oh how I love thee with your white and dark meat
Thou art the very best
But because of you, I can’t see my feet
My navel is two feet from my chest
To diet and lose so I don’t wobble no more
I would be very willing
It would be impossible now, because somehow
I finished four bowls of filling
My wife pointed at me and said look at him
He sits at the table, like a dog he begs
I stare at you and your magnificent breast
Can hardly wait to get my hands on your legs
Enough already, I’m on my knees
Give me some stuffing and some black eyed peas
Sweet potatoes, corn and a salad I’ll toss
And bury your butt with cranberry sauce
Oh turkey, my turkey, you’re the one who rocks
Now I’ve gotten so fat, I can’t put on my socks
My love for you was fleeting
And we are finished I fear
But I’ll fall in love with another turkey
Same time next year.
What happened to the 50 stars and 13 stripes of these United States of America? What happened to "We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal"? When did the nation of "We the people" become a country of "We and they"?
Can we not stand as one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all? Who established, introduced, and reduced our nation to segmentalized, "Us and them"? The left; the right; the men; the women; the straights; the gays; Blue states; Red states. Please! Enough already! The terrorists are winning, because we are terrorizing ourselves.
As the Almighty has promised, God blesses the nation whose God is The Lord. However, I dread to consider the destiny of the nation who forgets its God.*
It's time we take a 7th inning stretch and pray that God will heal our nation.
May God forbid that we forget Him. May every God fearing American give
pause and take a 7th inning stretch. In the words of the psalmist, may we pray: "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget her skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you".*
05162017cjPS *Psalm 33:12; 9:17; 137:5,6
FEELING ALONG IN THE WORLD
AS NOBODY CARES
AS THEY SAT IN THE ROOM ALL DAY
SLEEPLESS NIGHTS COMES
ANOTHER DAY HAS BEGUN
THE SAME ROUTINE
JUST FEELING ALONG
DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO
HURT, PAIN, SORROWFUL
OBSTACLES ARE POINTING AT YOU
AS IF THERE IS NO TOMORROW
WEEPING FEELING SAD AND DEPRESSED
TAKING A SECOND GUESS
ONLY NOT TO BE AT YOUR BEST
UNFORGIVENESS AT HEART
SITUATIONS TORN APART
LIFE IS PASSING BYE
CONTINUE TO CRY
MY, MY, MY.
ONE-DAY THE SUN SHINED
THE DARK CLOUDS WENT AWAY
NOW YOU CAN LIVE AGAIN
GET UP AND SING INSPIRATIONAL SONGS EVERYDAY
MY PRAYERS ARE FOR YOU
GOD LIVES ON
DON'T BE DISCOURAGED
BE ENCOURAGED
LAUGH, SMILE, DON'T BE HURT
TAKE ONE DAY AT A TIME
GOD'S LOVE IS GENUINE.
FEEL SAD NO MORE
ENOUGH ALREADY.
MUCH LOVE.
Our family is all about smells.
When Old Spice clogs our senses
My father is visiting.
Sometimes I get a glimpse of him too,
Out of the corner of my eye.
He has been gone for eight years.
When my mother-in-law visits it is
Oil of Olay, and more than plenty of it.
It permeates the kitchen and the great room area.
Enough already!
I say "Hello, Helen. Glad to see you,
but you know I am an asthmatic," and
the scent vanishes.
She has been gone for ten years.
She died the day after she told her girlfriend
To go get her funeral suit from upstairs.
The girlfriend did not want to.
She was heavy, and there were a lot of stairs!
Smoke surrounds my recliner when Dwight
is around. He was the kindest soul, so sweet
and loving but he seems to want to make a point.
I think it is because he passed in 1984, so he
has been gone a lot longer than the others.
"ENOUGH ALREADY!" I scream when he
visits. Poof. The smoke is gone. I say, "Joe, your
dad is here," and he laughs. Then he says,
"He is always here. He likes it here." My husband is
pretty in tune with spiritual stuff.
Nothing triggers my asthma faster than cigarette
smoke, perfume, and cold air. Those are the three worst
culprits for me. For sure! Sometimes it is damning
being a sensitive.
Medusa arrived like most dandelions
All over the place with a bobbly head
She was an anomaly, a work of art.
She exuded a rareness; she was unique.
I watched her fill up the dandelion patch.
She overtook her sisters and brothers.
A giant in their midst, Medusa was a catch.
I lugged strangers into my yard to see her.
She is no dandelion! Some would say.
Then what is she? They would examine her.
Some wanted to take her apart in dissection.
I sent them packing.
I stopped bringing strangers in to peer at her.
I felt I had violated her trust enough already.
The other dandelions started turning.
I photographed proof of Medusa.
The mishmash mayhem of jumbled clutter
at first seems to be confusion's cause.
But after tidying up, nothing can be found.
Nothing is where you left it lying, easy to find again.
Last in, first out is the principle of your piles and stacks
of assorted unsorted stuff you left lying all around you.
As you contemplate clearing up the mess to see your desk,
the gathered hodgepodge medley of mess
hums a melody, a ditty in warning:
"Messiness is the sign of creativity"
"If a cluttered desk begets a cluttered mind,
what does a cleared empty desk beget?"
Enough already! I want to be more creative!
It’s not a mess, it's inspired creativity on active duty!