Long Of necessity Poems
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I met a fellow mortal as we both were of necessity
departing a place we could no longer reside. The city
was called 2023. The two of us were headed north to
reside in a new and different city called 2024.
Being an older man with more experience, I offered
him some advice as we approached the City of 2024.
I stood aghast as he interrupted me so emphatically,
saying 'No', before I could complete a single suggestion.
I was compelled to listen as he with sincerity said to me:
Neither weary nor worry me
Don't challenge me to change
Give me no pain, but comfort only
JUST HUMOR ME
Give me no losses but only gains
Don't require me anything to rearrange
Leave me alone and selfish like you found me
JUST HUMOR ME
Tell me that I am okay and so are you
Tell me that I need not improve or renew
Tell the freeway that I want to remain an avenue
JUST HUMOR ME
Make no demands on me as I live and let live
Promise me pleasures, pleasantries, and magic pills
Give me no responsibilities, more freebies and less realities
JUST HUMOR ME
As we entered the City of 2024, I continued to hear him saying
'Give me'. I walked away deeply concerned, with tears and a prayer.
123123PS
listen to the whisper of the sincerity wind
my breathing is easier as time becomes the ocean at low tide
i become lost in the shade where i let myself be released
there is nothing on my mind, and i really dig the soft, breezy feeling
the strain of life's usual hustle and bustle concedes to a rare but needed ebb and flow
i am alone but at the same time i am in a perfect harmony of rather enjoyable company
my heart's delight is a falling star with the healing tears of a fiery red phoenix
knowing and growing from what i notice God to be showing, i quietly digress
in a continuum breached by the calming touch of necessity, i listen to the whisper of the sincerity wind
Toward Spring the Men Withdraw
Toward spring the men withdraw the peak of absence unbound with
roots above the mouth a few pull back some sand in a great hatred
of drought the fire climbs off them as off a roof we don't even know how hot
it is but in fields in the cool others of their weakness strike them you float
at the ceiling we silence them but how can they not hear us in their harsh light take us from
Arms of our ugly ones wean us we are bad girls out of necessity we silence even
daddy we kick we de-rhythm the anarchy of the world in which we spin accompanied
and cheerful take ribbons from our napes out of necessity we cannot undress
from insensible colors we don't even know how hot it is refuse us from fingers the hands
burning in their certain electrocution we came by car with eyes open
Each before a cat drew us your gentle principle which we
felt very badly we filled spaces away from you we unpeeled the air from eyes
our ugly ones you realize we withdraw in chaos multiple who kept you
in mind you cannot also kill us it's all different we rise orderly like some
remembered axes the donors we unbury above the ceiling toward spring
The men withdraw the peak of absence with roots above the mouth a few
pull back sand in a hatred of drought the fire climbs off them as off a roof
we don't even know how hot it is in fields in the cool others strike them you float at
ceiling we silence them in their harsh light take us from arms of ugly ones wean us
we are bad girls we silence daddy we kick we de-rhythm the anarchy we are cheerful
Take ribbons from our napes we don't undress from insensible colors how hot
it is refuse us the hands burning in the certain electrocution we came by
car eyes open each before the cat drew us the gentle principle we
felt badly we filled spaces we unpeeled the air from eyes you realize
we withdraw in chaos multiple we kept you in mind don't kill us it's different we
Rise orderly like some remembered axes the donors we unbury above
the ceiling and the men the peak of absence with roots on mouth pull back sand in
the hatred of drought the fire climbs off them we don't even know how hot it is in the cool others
strike them we float at ceiling we silence in the harsh light take us from arms of ugly ones
wean us bad girls we silence daddy we kick de-rhythm cheerful ribbons from the nape
From a very young age, I observed that my father
was one who took great delight in being informed.
Before we obtained a television, his major sources
of information were radio and newspaper. He was well
informed about baseball and current events.
I am certain that I inherited that need to be informed from my
father. However, after several decades, the longings to be informed
still remains, but my sources have greatly expanded. And of necessity,
I am compelled to be much more discerning and discriminating.
In my father's years, there was far less need to be concerned
with opinions and commentary. Or maybe I was not sophisticated
enough to realized it back then. Anyway, presently, the fields
of journalism are much broader and more convoluted. Furthermore,
thanks to my father, I find myself even more driven to be informed,
but of necessity, must 'separate the wheat from the tares'.
I find far less joy in the journalistic process than when I was a child.
I am deeply delighted and grateful that my father's thirst for NEWS was duly
noted, and his cup must have ran over into my young life. His overflowing cup
has also taught me how to be nourished with real NEWS and minimize the opinions and commentary.
072423PS
Telling "White Lies"
My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
to support his family two parents +
remainder offspring, he helped sire
lacked positive role models, none the
less gumption taught her to strive
at tender age livid with rage to escape
caricature living poor, thus sought
employment when/wherever sheik hood
if necessary fibbed to survive
plus rash of healthy nurturing, and
absolute zero constraints, perhaps five
or thereabout years old attested
much later, suspected her papa did jive
with unspeakable improper behavior
(nobody dare discuss taboo issues),
yet intuition awoke within immoral
conclusion Harriet Kuritsky did arrive,
and perhaps resorted to stretching
the truth (fibbing a "white lie") the only
recourse available plied sweet innocence
knowing little or nothing about birds
feathering their nest, nor little about
buzzfeeding activity in beehive
naivete flirtatious coyness advantage worked,
I bet young thang did connive
and probably never did contemplate,
deliberate, generate and wrongdoing,
where mother of necessity spurred
angelic demureness strategy to contrive
securing bare necessities, hence fast
forward, when unsolicited advice given
to this sole son, or either sibling, (an older
& younger sister) tactics upbringing did deprive
ma mum of positive role models, hence
only blueprint to acquire essential needs
serendipitous series of unfortunate events
before Lemony Snicket did derive
school of hard knocks, (I do believe
formerly called Abraham Lincoln High)
rather than impugn, judge, revile, et cetera
kernels/nuggets of wisdom memory did revive
within my mind for rhyme, nor reason
blunt honesty, not always best policy
despite ten commandments
to husbands with many a wive.
August 25th, 2019 playing round of bouncy bouncy broke bed
Just before stroke o' midnight
slated date above zee wife,
i.e. the missus, aboot
same width and height
(quite an oompa loompa),
she presented quite
oh...somewhat garrulous,
hilarious, illustrious...sight,
what with her
swelled up Betelgeuse orange
flesh somewhat sunkist bright
strove to bounce this light
resting, loafing, humming
like mister kite,
who always takes nap before sleep
got unstrung with minor fright
when both of us suddenly heard "thud,"
and driver side regarding single bunk
slumped noticeably lower, which excite
meant elicited presenting reedsy challenge,
and strategizing avoid rolling on floor,
a humorous lock horned dilemma plight,
she analogous to human meteorite
precariously propped, positioned, perched
courtesy eldest daughter,
who gave ample pillows fortnight
prior to relocating to San Francisco,
California, a stellar future
"star student" sought to ignite
where struggling dirt poor
mama and papa squeezed, pinched
jinxed financially tight
scrambling to remain homeless
which dire circumstance... right,
would immediately curtail
ample leisure time to write.
Out of necessity, we could live
in 2009 Hyundai Sonata until cold
temperatures idle forced us to hold
each other, this despite
my tendency to twitch, a told
foregone conclusion spelling misery
especially if the snoring mold
did doughy wife additionally
prone to scold
and get snappy if unable to affix
CPAP contraption told
to attach to face when lying down
to alleviate sleep Apnea
a common malady bold
forthright primary care physician
stated excess weight major
contributing factor never foretold
back in the day when spouse
light as feather, and yet
contradictory cuz each fold
of adipose tissue
increases her cost when
measured against gold.
On this most unusual autumn day
I must say goodbye to an old friend,
a gigantic, ancient oak tree in my front yard:
You have shaded my porch for decades
enabling me to sit in my swing
on warm days relaxing, reading, and writing poems.
You have been the home of innumerable squirrels.
Little songbirds have perched on your branches
and serenaded me with their delightful trilling.
Limb by limb, you have been dying for a long time.
Twice, you have had to part with appendages, felled
by saws—at my reluctant bidding, but of necessity.
Some limbs have fallen on their own, in my yard
and even on the road!
Horrendous weather is coming, with ice and high
winds. For others and myself, I fear the huge limbs
on your right side that have been bare for several
years. How they creak when the wind rises!
The tree cutters will be here tomorrow.
Not even a stump will remain at day's end.
From this time forward, I will visualize you
where you once resided. I won't forget you.
Your kinfolk are still here, tall and strong—
as you once were.
May they thrive long after I am gone.
The stone that was rejected
now hovers overhead.
The sword of retribution
still dangles by a thread.
The careless laugh and squander,
the hungry starve away.
Men mock the storm and thunder,
deny the coming day.
They bomb, exploit and plunder –
of necessity they say.
And Rachel still is weeping
for the babes slain at her feet,
in Ramah ever keeping
her bloodstained swaddling sheet.
No longer do they crucify;
they poison, gas and maim.
No martyr do they glorify
or honour by a name.
But the greatest lie they proffer,
it is not that God is dead –
“He’s sleeping,” says the scoffer,
“on yon high and lofty bed.”
piles of dirt in the laundry room
mounds of confirmations unseen by the most obvious eye
hallways with doors that conceal rooms that darkness cannot even define
when a love for someone twenty years younger in the memory files is physically expressed to one that has written stories that define modern philosophies,
the heart can become extremely ill from the exposure to the currents of the current reality driving the choices of said one to modern journies of necessity
colors can be faded
machines can simply malfunction
electricity can loose its spark
even generators can lose its generation
this is when the poisonous sport of dwelling can be acidic to the prime of a life so iridescent
running scared, in this case, inspires positive emissions
running from you, oh shining example, has been the missing piece to the reripened puzzles to my recent, radiant experiences
that being said, thank for being the hypocritical liar that have proven yourself to be....
"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by, and
That has made all the difference".
The Road Not Taken. Robert Frost
We deem it normal for babies to cry when they arrive.
Perhaps it's the best indication that they are alive.
But in their minds, it seems they are issuing a protest.
Notwithstanding, it takes only a little bit of loving caress,
and, just like that, newborns succumb to affection and tenderness.
It's as if a baby accepts it by saying, "Now that I am here"....
What if we were just as adjusting when life presents us with the
unexpected? "Now that we are here" would be a calming and mature
manner of course. We will never know the difference our lives would have been or would have made had it gone just as we had planned or how we
had prepared for it to be.
Before now, I had not given much thought to what might be happening at
birth in the minds of the baby, but I believe that there is a God-designed element within us at birth that gives us an untrained instinct or hidden
desire to make adjustments when so required.
Sometimes, when we are drawn into places that are unplanned and unsuitable, or by our own intention, we have every right and a need to
protest and seek an exit. But then, there are times that we of necessity
must bow to the situation and say, "Now that we are here", let's make the best of the circumstance. Let's reevaluate and recalculate. Let's reconsider and recheck the GPS that God has given us.
"Now that we are here", who knows but what God has brought us or allowed us to enter this place, this season, this misfortune, for such a time as this?
Like newborn babies, let us indeed protest this strange turn of events. We
absolutely have been given a will, a uniqueness, and a mind of our very own.
By the same token, we must occasionally turn aside and say, "Now that we are here", what now? Now that we are here, a place we never intended to be or to go, what shall we now do? Does this way lead to my destiny? What new ideas and inspiration await us? I know whereof I speak, and I must say, mine has been quite a ride.
031923PSCtest, Now that we are here. Unseeking Seeker