Long Nearsighted Poems
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I went to the shadchan
I listed what my wife should be
a pretty, funny, caring woman
But the shadchan laid it out for me:
"The type of woman who would look your way
Would be nearsighted, poor, a career missed
I have to be blunt, or I would betray
I've been around, trust me on this."
"You see, the mind is a computer"
"Sometimes unconsciously, factors get combined
Women do the math of what they want in a suitor
And you, poor shmuck, are not considered a find."
I was bitter, so I said, "they just smell cash"
But she replied, "you hypocrite, you're the same
"You want glamour, humor, and a dowry stash
That's how we all play that game."
"Men go for women who seem attainable
"Shared interests, smarts, or admiration
"The ratio of genders must be favorable.
If you select by race, add that to the equation."
"It's not that I want to be mean
"But beauty is signposts to evolution's goal
"A brain is designed to reproduce a gene
Even if infatuation grabs your soul."
So she found me a compatible mate
from a war-torn land far away
The lady was older, and overweight
And she denied that she was gay.
We went down that aisle, and tied the knot
But then I met a beauty at the car dealership
She was like a panther that the zoo forgot
She was funny, smart, my commitment flipped.
I was going to divorce my wife, this computation stuff was crap
When I was with this new girl, I felt like ten out of ten
Until one day I found her with a tinfoil cap
She was insane, believed in little green men.
You can't escape the computation
No matter how hard you try
Know your limits, your life station
That way, you won't have to cry.
….And no one spoke…
protecting all about them from
the perception of impropriety,
insensitivity, misunderstanding
…and no one looked…
shielding their eyes lest their gaze
be taken as an affront to the fashion
choices of a passerby, an insult to
the sanctimonious clerics wardrobe,
an assault on the personal space of
a nearsighted Neanderthal.
…and no one listened….
for fear of hearing anything….
that might offend their sensitivities,
sound a tone that was not in
complete compliance, allow the possibility
of conversation.
So did the monkeys take the throne,
the threesome of denial, risen
to the peak of power because they
heard no evil – spoke no evil – saw no evil
became the dupes of evil - because they
heard no good – spoke no good – saw no good
John G. Lawless
8/13/2015
A cold lion roams, doctrinaire and sterile,
The expanse of Africa offers him no sanctuary, the Saringehti no salvation,
He can only smell the scent of his pride now, his cubs shun him,
Repelled by needless roars, the revolting rants,
Tail tattered, biten by jackels at will,
His nose bit and beaten from battles better avoided,
Soul tethered to a label, only a title, "King of the Jungle" ,
Fleas and insects of all sorts find haven in his muddy mane
once so puffed and wide like a thunderhead trampling over Tanzania,
I hear him in the twilight, lonely, unsated and undesired,
Paranoid about a life that does not seem to love him,
His heart became a desserted Athens, a broken, rigid column slumped on the earth,
He wanders near the Nile, nearsighted and nervous
As an Egyptian boy of ancient lineage stalks him sensitively
Putting the speartip to own temple saying,
I see your ribs, your broken paws, your futility,
I will now deliver your soul unto the cool night,
The spear is launched with a certain bloodlust
piercing behind the shoulder blade, his heart hollers
with the cry of scarred suprise, the lion stumbles and pants
vanity not allowing blame for lack of vigilance,
the boy trots to the spot, kneels in token reverence
telling him, sip the black puddle of your error, as eyes fold ever shallow,
let me feed you these apples of arrogance
so to quiet your grievence, to sooth your ego before final sight,
there is no shame in being slain by a Pharoah King, old lion,
I shall wear your teeth as a timeless trophy of tragedy,
Emblematical of Pride gone on too long,
may the spirit of Herodetous teach this lesson to a new breed -
J.A.B.
I realize
I have real eyes
That see real lies—
~Nearsighted
(rule of law)
~Farsighted
(rule of lies)
~The "ayes" have it
(hidden agenda)
~The "ayes" have it
(secret addenda)
~The "ayes" have it
(hate crimes)
~The "ayes" have it
(critical times)
~Unmitigated truth
(entombed)
~Undocumented lies
(exhumed)
I realize
I have real eyes
That see real lies—
~As the world cries
***
12/13/2019
Photo "Imposter" by Gabriela Ferreira on flickr
The morning mist seen at dusk
hovering and surrounding all
searching for a new place to dwell
seems to stand still
and linger for a long time
but as the morning sun shines down
it will begin to vanish
To come and leave quickly
as the day will move on
As our Life
For even if we Live on this Earth
longer than one has seen
it shall be but a mist of a day
It is easy to get caught up in this world
when believing this is all we have
thriving to possess all one can obtain
in this short period of time
breeding chaos and greed
Nearsighted of the souls need
Not even ample time for most
to achieve temporary desires
longing till the day to be satisfied
While we are not guaranteed
to even remain a mist until the morning sun
For our time here may seem like forever
with many sufferings and pain
but One who knows the Lord
will be united for eternity
never to remember the waves they sailed
looking for that new land
not to count birthdays again
With no more attacks from ones who love to sin
To embrace the everlasting grin
President's Day is approaching so I thought I would further your education,
By revealing useless trivia about some of the dudes who've served our nation.
President Washington actually had to borrow money to get to his inauguration.
He wore size 13 shoes and seldom took a bath much to Martha's indignation!
Abe Lincoln agreed his wasn't the prettiest face when all was said and done!
Once called 'two-faced' he said, "If I had two faces, do you think I'd wear this one?"
James Buchanan was nearsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other,
Causing him to lean his head to the left and close one eye, which was a bother!
For his breakfast, Ulysses Grant loved cucumbers soaked in vinegar to eat!
He probably saved his hide since he declined to join Abe in his theater suite!
Woodrow Wilson was plagued with indigestion and was blind in one eye.
He had a pet sheep named Old Ike that chewed tobacco and that ain't no lie!
Cal Coolidge used a paucity of words so that many folks thought him dead!
He liked his head rubbed with Vaseline while eating his breakfast in bed!
Harry Truman kept a sign on this desk that read, "The Buck Stops Here!"
Remembered will be his scorching letter to an editor defending Margaret's career!
'Tis well-known that Ronnie Reagan dearly loved Nancy and jelly beans,
And was happiest at his ranch riding a horse and wearing old jeans!
And finally, from Barack Obama we learned that there are fifty-seven states,
And that he makes skillful use of a teleprompter to ensure there are no misstates!
Th-th-thats all folks - more than you ever wanted to know about these chaps!
(There's much more I could reveal but it best be kept under close wraps!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Kindness
Your kindness Lord runs to greet me in generous petals of fragrant compassion floating into my stingy spirit, dances in the abyss of my selfishness, raises up my bankrupt soul, gives light to my nearsighted heart opening veins of sympathy in an avalanche of mercy for hungry children gazing at empty cupboard shelves, for the new Lazarus, shivering in tatters, begging at the city gates for food, feeding a faithful four footed companion on a rope leash first, waiting for a crust of kindness baked in empathy to fall in the doorway of a grocery store – no warm coat or bed only a pillow of cement or a park bench. Your kindness blinds malevolence, deafens insolence, cripples violence in floods of gracious benevolence with tides of charity asking only make a difference with what you have – a can of soup, a piece of fruit, a word born on the tides of charity. Your kindness to me shares the perfume of gratitude softly falling from your tongue beating back vanity and pride so I may chant the living lyric of your loving kindness, open gracious arms, recite a litany of glory in a cup of grace to thirsty pilgrims, poor or comfortable, traveling by my side with open eyes of generosity.
kindness builds love
empathy heals hearts ~
compassion’s cradle
The great northeast, Vermont: I-89 and I-91, the crossing roads.
We have Deer crossing signs everywhere.
We also have Moose, we also have Bear :
Crossing the highway in their crossing zone.
Like pedestrian crossing, they cross on their own.
A different way of driving, in each of the crossing zones
Pedestrians : I’ll leave this crossing alone.
Moose : A moose makes his crossing ; his own.
Deer : Sleek, quick of feet, an agility all her own.
Bear : If they’re on all fours, leave their crossing alone.
I’m heading down the highway ; in a Bear crossing next two miles.
As I round another corner in the road : A Bull Moose, with a smile.
He was just standing there, his big brown eyes looking down at the car
Moose are nearsighted, I turn my headlights to low, I see : evening stars
Moose in my way my mind starts to stray, I see A ROGUE MOOSE.
I feel really bad, I feel really sad, For surely this Rogue moose is M A D.
It’s a BEAR CROSSING AREA this rogue moose is a C A D .
I must call Vermont Warden of fish and game.
Here is a mad moose that YOU have to tame.
A Moose : in a Bear crossing zone : Oh what a shame.
I was out in this world
amidst the nearsighted
unknowing of the winding road
How could I have not seen the dead end sign
therefore to be led off course into a ditch
seems as if no one
knew who to call
trying to find the way back
to the road while drifting further away
searching for happiness
out in the wilderness
a mistake for all was out for their own
trying one thing after another
only to last for a moment
leaving me empty and unsatisfied
I fell to my knees and held out my hands
as my spirit yelled for the Lord to save me
Then Jesus took hold of my hand
instantly I felt Love not of this world
dusting me off and a cleansing within
pulling me up I knew then
I was gonna be lead back to the road
No more stumbling around in the dark with no light
For His path is well lit from which He created
He shall never leave one alone
while guiding and protecting
If one shall get tired
He shall pick them up and carry them
while providing and endless
quench to hunger and thirst
I will hold onto the Lords hand
engulfing the peace
of knowing The Lord
will lead me home for only by Him shall I find rest
As humans, I imagine, it is human nature when viewing the sights and sounds around us…to try and understand who we are and all the wonders that surround us.
To do this we attach labels to everything we see…
that’s a cloud, that’s the ocean…that’s a flower…that’s a tree.
These labels are quite useful when used as they’re devised…
to help us understand our world…to keep us organized.
But something happened when we began to label each other…we noticed differences we hadn’t seen before…and suddenly the label human…wasn’t good enough anymore.
Yes, we were all just humans once…I was me and you were you…
until you became a Muslim, me a Catholic, you an immigrant…me a Jew.
Until I was white…you were black…I was yellow…you were red…
and amidst a slew of labels we began to lose our human thread.
The labels became more important…you were fat…I was thin…you were young…I was old and grey…you were French…I was German…you were straight and I was gay.
Labels when used for good are beneficial to you and me…
I have epilepsy…you are nearsighted…I have asthma…you’re gluten-free.
When labels are used wisely (as they were intended) then good is who’ll we’ll be…
but when we use our labels foolishly…it leads to hate and bigotry.
For labels can never tell us what’s inside another human’s heart…
and all bad labels do is push us further and further apart.
Which makes me long for a time when, perhaps, we were a little wiser…
when everyone agreed…
that human…
only human…
is the only label we ever need.