Long Needless to say Poems
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Thank God
That is over
I mean this insane dream that I had
I was a young man, wearing a black suit
On my best behavior that day
In an auditorium full of
Other young people
Some also on their best behavior that day
We were watching kids putting on a funny play
When a very unserious man came on stage
And very seriously said
This is not part of the play
Just then History Itself
Reached its angry hand from behind the stage
And clasped its fingers, dripping a mixture of blood and ash
Around my throat, and I choked
History said
Wake up from your dream!
This is Serious what I have done
To get your attention
I was, needless to say, shocked at this
As I had never heard History speak
Directly to me before
Let alone reach out to choke me
I realized it was true what it said
That I had never really paid much attention
In my heart I resolved that if only
It would let me go, that I would revere it
From now on
At last it released its gnarly grasp
History said
Never Forget
I promised I would not
Four days later I cried and cried
Then another very unserious man appeared
To a crowd that I was in
Children do not worry, he said
That was just a dream and you are awake now
I will take care of the monsters
Go to sleep, and dream more pleasant dreams
All around me the crowd that I was in
Began to drift off
I thought
What was I crying about?
I too fell back to sleep
Or awoke
I really am not sure now which
One thing I do know is
That is over
Thank God
August 14, 2019
Merrick Brigs worked at Caldwell’s ranch,
offering two-week excursions by horse,
up in the Rockies they’d ride and camp,
suburban cowboys loved it, of course.
One summer day he got a new rider,
so he saddled Sundown, and High Fiver,
his best two mustangs in the corral,
in horses you could not as for more.
A car pulled up and out of it stepped
a raven-haired beauty sublime,
Merrick stopped dead in his tracks,
his words he was trying to find.
She said,”Hi. My name’s Clarice,
I think you’ve got a horse for me?”
Merrick stammered,”Y-yes, I do.
Are you ready for a good time?”
She just gave him a knowing smirk,
and poor Merrick felt his heart race,
the packed up all their camping gear,
and towards the mountains made their way,
he found himself falling back
to watch Clarice ride the track,
the way her hips moved captured him,
a sensuous and rhythmic sway…
That night they camped by a small lake,
high up in a mountain defile,
after a dinner cooked by fireside,
they stayed up to talk a while.
Clarice said, looking up at the stars,
“I’ve heard the you cowboys are
the sort who do a woman right
when she’s looking to get a bit wild.”
The look on her face left no doubt
and they stumbled down to the tend,
ripping of their clothes frantically,
dropping them to the ground as they went.
Both the earth and tent did shake,
right up until the morning’s break,
she was as wild as she proclaimed,
Merrick called her his godsend.
Needless to say, for the next two weeks,
they rode the mountains and made love,
in every possible place and position,
neither seemed able to get enough.
So distracted by lusty travails
that they only traveled half the trail!
Not that either of the two
minded falling short all that much...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
I sometimes have job opportunities with very great benefits and incomes,
and I'm often approached more times than none by various unemployed victims,
who ask me if I can do anything for them
to get them accepted into my livelihood and membership of my very great union.
Before obligating myself to any of them,
I'll look straight into the eyes of each and every one of them,
"Heed my words strongly," I then say to all of them.
"I don't take kindly to being interrupted or for myself to be repeating.
Are you willing to risk screwing up my good reputation
by screwing up regularly if I recommend you to be accepted into my very great union?
If you're a screw up and will screw up, please save me the aggravation,
because you will have then screwed up permanently my good reputation.
My superiors will never trust another one of my recommendations
that could have helped a deserving family in need had I recommended them.
So again, if you're a screw up and will screw up, please save me the aggravation,
because when you screw up with me,
I'll have to kill you sadly,
and on that issue I am never joking."
Needless to say I get few applicants asking for my recommendation,
but the ones I do recommend become the very best at performing their profession.
I saw a man blathering on,
a professor with PhD,
who called himself ‘anti-racist,’
which seemed rather bizarre to me
since he kept saying that we must
see ourselves in culture at large,
singers, actors, must be the same race,
otherwise it would leave deep scars.
Needless to say I was alarmed,
for I had seen many a film
with Denzel Washington up front
ensuring that bad guys were killed.
Will Smith and Sidney Poitier,
Eddy Murphy, back in my youth,
I had been cheering for them all,
but this professor told me the truth,
that I cannot identify
with an actor who’s skin is dark,
since I myself lack such pigment,
I couldn’t see myself in their parts.
Now I know I can only feel
for people whose melanin lacks,
I mean when has a professor
ever been known to spew crap?
Worse still I liked Sammy Davis,
or liked him, I think I should stay,
since I can’t see myself in singers
whose looks go in a different way.
Even worse I saw a black teen
watching Sinatra on Youtube,
reacting with amazement at
the way the man carried a tune.
How internalized is the self-hate
in that unfortunate young man?
To identify with Sinatra…
he must be well and truly damned.
Since professors who look like him
have said it again and again,
our singers must reflect ourselves,
otherwise how can we like them?
I know I cannot help that kid,
but the one thing I did was this,
I went through all my MP3s,
deleted all non-pale artists.
How could I appreciate them?
Much better they all go to scrap,
academia can’t be wrong,
they wouldn’t just put out dumb crap...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Hard to remember my first kiss,
seems I’ve always been kissin’ and kissin’.
I’d pucker up and kiss Mother.
Dad would hug me and he’d get another.
Those petals got a whole lota use,
on baby sis’s toes, I’ll give no excuse.
Gram’s would kiss and kiss me again.
At five I had my first kissin boyfriend!
Teenage brought a kiss on my neck,
a bit of tongue teasing, but what the heck.
College broadened my repertoire
till I met the one I’d been practicin’ for..
Now, on to that momentous kiss
on our wedding day, well it was pure bliss.
A few years pass, I had my boy,
and needless to say, I kissed him with joy.
Lips, soft, plump and pink, I just love to kiss
I’ve always been a right kissable miss.
My name is Walter Eddington,
live in Maine with my wife and son,
own a growing timber company
way up north with vast tracts of trees.
My son’s name is Bruce, and one day
at age fourteen he came home to say
that cutting trees was an ‘evil’ thing,
what in the hell are these schools teaching?
I tried to explain how it all works,
how we must balance needs of the earth,
how we rotate where we harvest,
and then replant seedlings in mass.
That we were really big tree farmers,
that was how me made a dollar,
made no sense to cut it all down,
no future profit in barren grounds.
Told him of our thirty years cycle
how when trees grew that land was wild,
that managing lots kept out condos,
thought he’d think different if he did know.
But it’s black and white at age fourteen,
nothing but an emotional scene,
he held to the nonsense he was taught,
but his obstinance gave me a though.
The next day, while he was at school,
I did something some would think cruel,
went to his room, a point to prove,
all wood and paper I them removed.
All his posters and his bed-frame,
pencils and books, boxed that contained,
his night stand and desk, and paper,
when Bruce came home he was lost for words.
I smiled and said,”It’s as you like,
nothing made from a tree inside,
in truth, son, you should be thanking me
for saving you from hypocrisy.”
Now maybe I was a bit extreme,
but it can be hard reaching a teen,
needless to say, after all that
he never again gave my job flack.
Consequences stirred his growing mind,
he would think things through next time,
reason would balance out the young fool,
if it doesn’t, then time to home-school.
I have a friend who I visit regularly,
He calls me Smith the Grocer, STG for short,
And when I text him, I sign off with STG,
Sometimes I add other abbreviations for him to guess,
A bit of harmless fun between friends.
Little did I know that a mix up with a text accidentally sent to my daughter,
Would lead to STG being interpreted to mean Sausage Tasted Good.
It came about in this way,
My daughter and her partner brought us over some flavoursome sausages,
So, it was not surprising that the next day when my daughter,
Got a three-letter text STG,
It was not unreasonable for her to conclude STG to mean
Sausage Tasted Good ,
And for me to get a text back that she was glad I liked The Sausage.
Needless, to say I did not attempt to correct the impression,
As, if I had thought about it,
I might well have sent that or a similar text on purpose,
And the sausages did taste good.
A case I think for a white lie, not doing any harm.
How often have we heard that - quite a lot,
like when a dead body was found in the pool,
of course, nobody knew how it got there at all,
conveniently covered up, another brick in the wall.
Found in bed with someone else, at least female,
needless to say, your popularity begins to pale,
although if you're president, things can be raised,
like a dress to see what's underneath, as you gazed.
I climbed a mountain and there was no way down,
then you really start to feel like a goddamn clown,
mother caught me looking at some boy's dick,
which seemed to reduce in size as though by magic.
However, like an accountant - many things come to nought,
just remember the commandment: 'Thou shalt not get caught.'
There’s something about a sonnet that grips
our heart, that cajoles our mind to be still,
even as a song appears on our lips,
of its own accord, in rhythm with God’s will.
We begin not knowing where the path leads
but be this as it may, needless to say,
heart sings a song, just the way our soul pleads,
conjuring a verse, as though it’s mere play.
Breath by breath, soul’s inspirations ignite
flame of our heart, which then conveys to mind,
innate desire to pen in black and white,
soft emotions that seek to be defined.
Save the sonnet, there’s no other technique,
which can into soul offer a sneak peek.
His spirit calms my own soul
Like a cool, clear stream, his quiet
Soothes and silences every fear, all my tears
Even the whispers of a past where I was filled with
Dread and doubt, my light fading… fading, fading out
His nature relieves my worries
Like a summer sky, azure dreams, boundless faith
Whispers of grace restoring my light, my inspiration
My imagination colors even shadows in a smile, a joy
Felt by a heart who knows Him, the wonder, the kindness
His reassurance and abiding kindness
Like sighs from the spirit, singing sweetly
Completely assured of the music who restores
Even the laughter to the soul who knows Him, His love
Promising to release the spirit from its endless darkness
His temperament is like wisdom
Erasing every suspicion with a promise
Pure conviction, confidence in His love, His light
The rays of joy He will provide to those who know Him
His ways are comforting, palliative, gentling even the past
His essence stirs my very soul
With reflections of hope, peace and love
Hushing the furious worries and anxieties that shout
Leaving me uncertain of my place, my direction, my abilities
Needless to say, His consolation is like a breath of saving peace
His love awakens the truth in me
Love this real goes beyond words or poetry
It is a feeling – yet, more importantly, more assuredly
A person – Jesus, the One who makes me feel like I’m worthy
Even though I’m so very imperfect, so undeserving, so unsure
His love is the answer to my prayers
The sweetness in my faith, the color in grace
The murmur of belief when I don’t know the way
The relief He brings is like a solace that is heartening
His love is the breath of light poured out in my life, redeeming
His love is alive – like a fire, a desire, a light…
Raining down joy beyond knowing – all over my heart