Long Franchise Poems
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Carmena was born in Bolivia
but left that place at seventeen,
after three years of waiting for the chance
to live out an American dream.
When her folks finally got their green cards
they moved up into old Santa Fe,
Carmena finished out her high school years
picking up on all American ways.
She’d known some English before she had come,
but her vocab expanded real quick,
immersed in the tongue every day
her accent softened and became less thick.
This helped a lot in her father’s new shop,
he bought a gas station in a franchise,
Carmena waited on all walks of life,
and the experience opened her eyes.
She’d chat with truckers and travelers
from all over the fifty great states,
lefty Californians, southern good-ol’ boys,
northern Yankees and Texans hauling steaks.
Mid-westerners who were so crazy nice,
New Yorkers who always sounded pissed off,
good-natured rednecks looking for more beer,
even some Yoopers with their funny talk.
Learned more of her new home on that roadside
then she did in any public school,
what would divide and what would unite,
but the one thing that really stuck her as cool
was that Americans, the better ones,
made everything subservient to choice.
Culture and skin, ethnicity and faith,
you had the freedom to ignore and avoid.
These facts struck her as how things should be,
had not every person a claim to these rights?
Here force of law was meant to make free
people to be the driving force in their lives.
And best of all, she heard all sides of things,
good for thought, both the grease and gourmet,
when seven years passed, and she took that oath,
she became American in so many ways.
But then something happened she didn’t expect,
it came about in an election year,
talking with her friend Sue about the vote
she was greeted with anger and fear.
Carmena was confused,"Why the harsh look?
I was just sharing the thoughts on my mind.
I believe in gun rights, and low taxes,
My father’s shop has been having a time—”
Sue interrupted,”Do you hate yourself?!
Don’t you know that you’re a Hispanic?
You’re betraying your own kind, voting this way,
colored people should vote Democratic!”
Carmena was stunned, struggled to reply,
“But I see nothing good in their beliefs.”
Sue just fumed,”You’re a damn race-traitor,
or brain-washed by fascist enemies!”
CONCLUDES IN PART II
Inexplicable blessing luckily
avoiding potentially grim fate
finds yours truly coming to grips,
how afterlife did not accommodate
the missus, and/or myself unwittingly
loved ones would never acclimate
reality of our permanent absence,
thus existence all the more I appreciate
and attempt poetically articulate.
Herewith the scenario that defies
conventional atheistic wisdom
finding me unable to square
involving 2009 Hyundai Sonata automobile
driven by spouse or her scribe, who dare
not allude to guardian angel,
yet conundrum inexplicable, when
touted as luck, regarding the rear
wheel bearing (passenger side of car)
that went kaput, blessedly ignorance
attributed absented scare,
yet in retrospect taking stock
i.e. how existence imperilled,
now more grateful than ever
toward life, liberty and
pursuit of happiness,
this in essence potential whipped miracle
of sorts presenting possibility
cosmic creative force continually near.
CJ'S TIRE & AUTOMOTIVE,
(1405 South Township Line Road,
Royersford, Pennsylvania 19468)
intuition doth agree
expert knowledgeable SERVICE
familiar personnel employee
since patronizing said facility
(actually franchise sites
scattered across United States), we
regularly return taking car repeatedly
to team of mainly younger,
but wiser technicians than me,
who realizes scant knowledge, née
absolute zero mechanical ability,
especially regarding
twenty first century vehicles
heavily accoutered
with sophisticated technology.
Now yours truly loops
back to (house at Pooh corner -
think Loggins and Messina)
i.e. core theme
Impossible explanation within
the infinite universe scheme
to explain convincingly fluke
protection against meme
evoking death, demise, destruction,
et cetera regarding as ye gleam
teetotaler who avoids Jim Beam
plus alcohol in general, cuz
prescription medication harmful
unless feeling suicidal to thee extreme.
Thus one garden variety, generic guy
NON GMO android (ha)
he doth not fear
the grim reaper at rapier
or gunpoint, nor mortality do I despair
hoop fully made somewhat crystal clear,
a quandary (one among many
that recurred), whereby air
ring professed nihilistically
skeptical minus impulse to destroy
comprises whether doubting Thomas
(English Muffins) stance
on wing and prayer
inadequate, obsolete, untenable...
imagine if all your heroes,
all your idols, all your
“spiritual leaders,” who
have supposedly written books
(or had books written for them/
by them), whose “lives” have
been depicted as such by those
who never lived when they lived,
who never saw what these
people were supposed to look like,
who tell us that they themselves
never had even an iota of
ulterior motive
in the making of these characters---
imagine if the characters themselves
were all in a room today,
a room somewhere in the middle of
nowhere, surrounded by psychiatrists &
sociologists, psychologists & representatives
of every normative leadership franchise
(full of presidents of nations, CEO’s of
companies, heads of military, heads of
churches, temples, mosques, etc.)---
imagine that they actually let some of
us “common people” into the room as
well & then imagine if those in charge of
the gathering allowed these
supposed heroes & idols to speak.
one after another,
those who have been looked up to for
guidance, those who have been painted on
walls, formed into sculptures, those who
have been killed for, those who have
“inspired” whole nations to kill each
other, those who have been talked to
by the zillions on bended knees with
their eyes closed for century upon
century---they all spoke &
as they did,
those watching who hold power, those
who gear the cultural trends for our
puny existence & all of us “common
people” as well, began to
diagnose these individuals in accordance
with the parlance of our times, whereby soon,
these characters would be found to
have multiple personalities…they’d be manic-
depressive…they’d be schizophrenic…they’d
be writhing with all the imperfections,
chemical imbalances, phobias, flaws &
disorders that are used now to write off every
single aspect of human behavior that
extends even the slightest outside that perfect
little square (like a child coloring hard along
the lines in a coloring book…never venturing
outside them) &
most of all,
all these once followed would be found to be
nothing more than as wretched as the rest of
us---one could go further &
assume that no books would be written about
them, no books would be “written by them” &
in a few years, much less than how long
they presently have all been looked up to for
the ages,
all these followed would disappear &
yet,
without any of them, we would all still get on---
yes we would.
...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’
it’s the refrain of loud femenists,
forgetting that before birth control
nature gave us little choice in this.
That before we had technology,
when life meant brutal, physical work,
that there just weren’t all that many jobs
physically weaker women could work.
They forget that the woman’s franchise
arose on America’s frontier,
that we blazed the path for suffrage,
their equality started right here.
Now why would a nation do all that
if they cared so little for females?
If we sought to be patriarchal
then I dare say the strategy failed.
And yet the left keeps raging about
rights which women have been long endowed,
Why should we buy all their self-hatred
when there’s so much for which to be proud?
And worst of all these fools like to claim,
that we’ve learned nothing, it’s all the same,
which I think is a sure sign that they
have something dreadful wrong in their brains.
We look at our mistakes all the time,
we brood endless on our sins and scars,
America lacks no self-reflection,
if anything we take it too far!
We get so obsessed with all our wrongs
that we think they drown out all the right,
we selfishly think it’s all our fault,
then of the truth we sadly lose sight.
Many cultures can’t ask such questions,
ask the Turks about past genocides,
or see if Communist China will
own up to all the Uighurs that died.
You don’t see many Japanese kids
who know about the rape of Nanking,
yet every American does know
that Wounded Knee was a horrible thing.
Why should we regret a culture that
tries to learn rather than disavow?
Our growing should not bring self-hatred,
to be honest, it should make us proud.
In the end, these issues are smokescreens,
thrown up to keep good people off track,
the left wants us all to hate ourselves
because self-hating folk rarely fight back.
There’s no logic behind what they hate,
hell, it changes hour-to-hour,
what unifies all these self-hatreds
is whether it will bring them power.
That’s really what’s behind all of this,
like some grand Machiavellian scheme,
to make free people into peasants
they first must be cut down and demeaned.
In truth, they don’t like Americans,
they don’t like people who stand unbowed,
so reject their vile self-hatred,
embrace all the things that make us proud.
...Oliver had saved up the cash
to buy into his employer’s franchise,
bought his own store, aggressively courted
every rancher in the countryside.
Soon enough the cash flow was well in the black,
so Oliver and the bartender wed,
bought their own house and were soon expecting,
he cared nothing for what the people said.
Jack, still drinking, played the Hollywood scene,
was a fixture of the wild nightlife,
soon he was in the tabloids again
when he knocked up a girl he knew one night.
He managed to keep working in film,
supporting roles were the best he could get,
with alimony and child support
he found himself slipping into the red.
When he crashed his car into his front door
he was quickly shuffled off to rehab,
in what would be the first trip of many,
the addiction had a grip on him bad.
But still he managed to get some work,
and when folks saw his face on the air,
they’d look at Oliver, mumbling how,
“That brother never went anywhere.”
Now Hollywood is a hot-bed of rumors,
and a disturbing percentage are true,
soon tales spread of Jack’s early acting days,
and all the things a new actor has to do.
Rumors of giving favors to producers,
insinuations of oral sex,
some said that was why her drank so damn much,
and why relationships left him vexed.
Whatever the case, on the internet,
the rumors became an ongoing meme,
his reputation thrown in the toilet
by GIFs and infographics obscene.
Oliver, back in fair Nebraska,
really had no reason to complain,
he had three kids and sold big equipment
to half the ranchers on the Sand Hills range.
Nobody was making memes out of him,
no reporters were snooping through his trash,
tabloids were not undermining his marriage,
and he was making more than enough cash.
He had six stores and a seventh coming,
and a hundred acres tied to his home,
a life or both family and friends sincere,
the general public did leave him alone.
The only thing that could worry Oliver
was what would happen to his brother Jack?
How many stars had walked down that same road,
and how many of them had never come back?
Though Jack’s state would weight hard on his mind,
and hear feared to see him drowning in despair,
Oliver couldn’t help but laugh at the folk
who thought it was he who was going nowhere.
Somewhere on the hardwood
Play grounders said you were good
Talent agent brought you indoors
They were really fir sure
In between the flashing lights
Gleaming and bright
Loud noises
Drowning out sociable voices
You were able to score
More and More
Traveling to different cites on a promotional sporting exhibition tour
Whether it was taking trains, planes or automobiles
You avoided the defensive steals
Moving a team from the land known for lakes
Franchise success deemed the spectacle not a fake
It was a city nicknamed angels
Fame and fortune façade had no danger
Ad mist the wild fiery glow
“It’s like you know”
A place where shaking ground could make one honestly state ‘it’s time to go’
Two or three points defined the scoring way
Navigating through the polluted gray
All done for contractual pay
For plastic
Making all these baskets
Or was the glamour true
Better than representing the red white and blue
Wearing 76er colors gold medal cool
Freedom has been under the microscopic test
Maybe it was our attitude touting ‘we are the best’
Everybody now sinks field goals in a bubble
Due to health care trouble
Staying six feet apart
Following rules from the CDC chart
Making issue not wearing face masks visiting the mini mart
Taking away life’s trusting fun
Infecting the idea ‘going out and getting sun’
Reported many are resting in peace
Not much word if there are markers acknowledging all the deceased
Many times celebrities were welcomed nice gestures
Acts could be putting on pressure
In the same fashion as an artistic academic coach professor
Remember when getting the open clear lane
During this civil game
Where not bouncing a ball is a walk
Penalized turnover people whisper and talk
Four others work together performing in the show
Passing around this round rock
Skills learned respectfully in friendly competition on the block
Swishing into the nets
Nightly one hundred a team is supposed to get
Sending people home entertained not upset
While flying in the air
Doesn’t matter who taunted the dare
It is what it is
Athletic show biz
wishing he had sung his prayers last night
from both ends to the middle
fell to the ground in adoration
tore a wake through the ink stains
but not from satisfaction
plastic Jesus hold my head
a round of applause for once
or even just a soft murmur
from those in your employ
parked way out in Kokomo
my interrogator professor Zworykin
said quietly we want information
I knew I was up **** creek
without an assault rifle
with various blunt objects
aimed at what was left of my head
initiations with disfigurement
so have a melodic answer he encouraged
yah well the Third Reich fell from bad music
I spat like a backwards vampire
the swelling is an obstacle
I added for evidence I mean emphasis
the King of the Scarabs was neither mollified
nor inclined to use less aftershave
a great rectum of a situation
which is a poem in itself
I got in a few imaginary hits
before he called in the hockey franchise
with their many novel effects and manifestations
such as hugely distended penises
not at all like the computer club
fart gigglers and Balaam anointed
who sang as they worked
that's how we laugh the day away
in the merry merry Land of Oz
always a help to morale in the trenches
to use a dirty semaphore
for the male power hug
cracking walnuts with hydraulics
the Scarab King was a backhanded guy
strung out on endless platitudes
this is a spit shine day men
do your regimentation proud
they wavered then cheered then wavered
when the going got tough
and it seemed to often
for your present narrator
they allocate security personnel
in my case a comic endorphin gigolo
the hand of a spell upon his brow
good lord not another eccentric botanist
bedecked with the fabled Trinkets of Mouthgate
traffic fines double in poet zone
former servant of the hypno-avatar
with his blemish free goats
and his tunnel vision paparazzi
hI I'm Joe Product family friend
half con half circus half fury
screaming on the rack
my one line in the play
whatever will I do now
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
A cheetah avoided the trap that night
And the wild cat escaped the shot.
Someone was there for them to learn
And each of them were taught.
The Bear had chosen to spare the cubs
For the ease of the Mother Bear.
But the man with the gun
Fell pray to own stun
And we didn't drop any tear.
"Was this the Kingdom the people asked for",
Had wondered the old young man.
Was this Forest Spirit?
I gave way to the might
To spare extinct life near it.
This is the trap the noble beast
Avoid it and stay secure.
"But are you to teach animal wild
How to handle the life of the least?"
Bear, Wolf pack and the Black Cat
had adopted small human kid.
When he grew he led his army to shed
The skin of the huge snake.
The snake was wise
And venom was nice
Taking life of the gunman.
Where body remain
There's no soul in vain
As there wasn't soul at all.
There people in lab
They study us
But the small insect flew
It took one small bite
And that was right
And such is the story of ew.
The neckless cheetah had worn
Was there to see how migrate.
They count each animal of the world
But valuing own rate.
There people came with the cross
And said "Don't eat your grandma".
Yet no body remain
But the wild soul remain
Dwelling being that much afar.
Food chains of the world become franchise.
"But in which sense regards the wild?"
You are eating brand, the starch and the scent,
civilization of the descent.
Vegetarian Lion lives in the Zoo
Within the claustrophobic cage.
The dumb and the cross
yet bears idea about the inexistence of the Nitrogen.
There is nothing however about wrong
Human fights for the human life.
I am standing near with sharp cosa
When the times comes for partial differential.
See if poeple would rot to become
cultivation means,
Maybe there could be so much
fertile soil
so there wouldn't be the need to always win.
Brains in this group were graded according to a binary system.
1 winner 0 as in loser.
A hypnotic mantra often -
“Winner, loser, hopeless chooser.”
There were even signs such as a straight finger for 1 or orb like finger sign for loser.
One might wonder aloud if this clique with their uncanny gestures would fit in anywhere else except this setting of their choice.
Hazy plume, rainbow eucalyptus, sylvan zephyr, amber leaf cascade,
lambent shroud, halcyon xanadu, wonder world cocoon, among the zany names they had thought of.
The staff each had nicknames linked to the above enterprises.
The brainstorming sessions they had had no drama or plot could “match.”
“Often have the feeling we are pawns to our ideas.”
Amber leaf sighed.
Lambent :
“This place is “dead on” for the wrong reason.
Smart is always in season.”
Lambent nodding to his “imaginary” sidekick “Shadow”
that seemed glued to his desk.
After all, they were used to that sort of thing as innovative university students.
This unusual alliance though city based had links to different areas.
But nothing would daunt this oddball eccentric clique and their very imaginative and oft bizarre aims.
They were nothing if not colorful.
They had this impressive office garnished with wallpaper having pictures of their various businesses and the names associated with them.
This franchise had been in existence now for over 5 years.
It was coping to an extent but there was an underlying desire to go beyond that.
A glorified high tek office routine secretly horrified everyone.
Lambent shroud, ICloud expert in the group was perhaps the zaniest of them all.
He had a fetish about hazes and how the term could be used.
Haze was his buzzword and
of course his very own in the ether mate.
He had a virtual sidekick called “Shadow.”
They used to speak to each other in rhymes.
“Hi there, going nowhere shadow.
I’m really stuck. Yuck!”
>On our local radio they are talking about getting seats on trains. Greater Anglia who have been awarded the franchise for running trains in East Anglia, are promising great improvements. This reminds me of a couple of incidents that happened many years ago. But hey this is supposed to be poetry.
Talking seats on trains
Long time ago, as a kid.
Mum and dad and their son went out, they did.
I was their foster son, you know.
So with them, I had to go.
By train to the coast, we went did so.
Was a great day we had by the sea.
When travelling back we were tired, you see.
We walked the train’s corridors.
But no vacant seats we saw.
Not to be defeated to first class did go.
And all relaxed in comfort, just so.
Then along came the ticket collector stern as could be.
Said, ‘you should not be here but in class III.’
Dad said, ‘my sergeant major, said to me, why stand-up if you can sit down.
And why sit down, if you can lie down.’
Dad was stern as well, you see.
What followed then you would not believe!
As the ticket collector said, ‘mine said that to me.’
Both were in the Northamptonshire Regiment.
‘Stay right where you are. Don’t move from the spot.’
The ticket collector then did part.
Soon he was back sat opposite dad.
They reminisced both of what they did have.
They talked and talked all the way back.
We kids and mum dozed in comfort, I must say.
Was so nice to travel first class and sitting all the way.
I use the same tactic once.
Whilst in the uniform of the British Army.
Was using a military travel pass you see.
I had only sat down five minutes it’s true.
When the ticket collector came along, yes he did do..
And what you think, he did say?
He clipped my ticket, winked his eye, and just gave a smile and past on his way.
I wonder what they would do today…!
Stanley Russell Harris
The new mad Author
& Poetry Soup Honourable Mentioned. <