Long Offense Poems
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I was working cattle with a crew a little south of Muleshoe,
When I watched a horse work with perfection and grace.
I said "pardon me gent, no offense is meant,
But your horse is the smartest thing on this place."
He broke out in a grin and scratched at his chin,
“Name is Bob, I'll tell you the story if you've the time."
I looked at the crew and said "We're about through,
You can tell me over tequila and lime."
"My grandpappy , Jason , was from the Permian Basin
And cowboy'd where it was dusty and hot.
And I'll tell you son when it's all said and done,
That bunch from Odessa was a hard gamblin’ lot
"Now three fingered Willy owned a stud and a filly
And played poker whenever he could.
One day Willy met Jason, from the Permian Basin,
And they locked in a game of seven card stud.
"Things had gone badly and Willy looked sadly
At the money he had left on the table.
He could ante it all, but couldn't raise or call,
So he offered the stud from his stable.
"Now the stud's name was Gyp, smart as a whip,
And he was standing just outside the door.
Willy treated him like dirt and hit him with a quirt,
So the thought of a new owner pleased Gyp for shore.
"And so there was Jason, from the Permian Basin,
Holding two Aces, two jacks, a Queen and a Four.
Willy wasn't saying which cards he was playing,
But Gyp could see three Kings through the door.
"He had to act fast if he was ever to get past
Being treated like an old worn out shoe.
He burst through the door, knocked the lamp on the foor
And nuzzled Jason as past him he flew.
"After Gyp was gone and the lights came back on,
Jason looked at the cards he was holdin'.
Gyp had given him a third Ace and he settled it in place,
And knew Willy would certainly be foldin'.
"So Gyp teamed with Jason from the Permian Basin,
And he sired many a colt in his time.
The one I am ridin', there just ain't no hidin,
Is as smart as Gyp was in his prime.
“How did Gyp get that Ace that he put into place?
I get asked that question wherever I go.
I think you'll agree that Gyp was smarter than me
So I always answer "How the hell should I know?' "
Well, I listened to the story in all of its glory
And drank my tequila with lime.
I live in Texas, it's true, and I think like you do,
Now I guess I've heard it all in my time!
August 26, 2016
For Contest Unhinged
July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense
sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...
Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace
nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...
and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice
reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even
Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)
ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate
as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,
she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate
with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate
tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely
iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with
corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -
validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate
popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,
nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore
liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander
refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.
**Being in the Moment**
My mother believed in prayers more than my father did. My father preferred to tackle his problems with a flask of white rum, while I believed in the importance of being present in the moment. There are hidden compartments within us, my poetic friends. "Being in the moment" can serve as a helpful reminder if we understand it more expansively.
Perhaps it was true what someone said about dealing with situations as they arise. I refused to grieve for my dearly departed husband because past experiences had taught me to suppress my emotions. My lack of dispassion and willful stubbornness made me question my feelings:
Did I love him? Did I forgive him? Perhaps it was the disrespect that prevented me from doing so.
The truth is quite different. Forgiving an offense empowers the offended. It is to a man’s glory to overlook an offense (Proverbs 19:11). While I can’t change the past, I can learn from it. This wisdom might prevent me from walking through a fire like that again. I would look at his picture on my refrigerator and feel a mix of love and hate toward him. In that same moment, those emotions coexisted within me.
I yearned for companionship, craved to be held tightly throughout the night. If someone can fulfill needs for companionship, love, and intimacy, there’s a greater chance that the other person will fall in love again and again. But not me. You burn; you affect me deeply. I have invested so much and ended up the loser every time. Love seems elusive to me; instead, loneliness has become my captor.
I know that loneliness does not have to be the final word. Even when the world feels against me, I will shine through, like ancient wisdom. I lost the love of my life due to jealousy. He lost me because I loved him enough to let him go. I experienced a breakthrough; I had given up on loving a mortal again. I would rather be alone than live with someone and still feel lonely.
I am not programmed to fail or to tolerate foolishness. Call me stubborn, call me high and mighty, call me the new modern woman. I refuse to age as a failure but instead strive for greatness, relentlessly pursuing my happiness. I know I deserve this. The poet within knows it, too.
As my online followers watch my journey, they should go ahead and do their own thing—after all, life is too short for anything less.
Courtesy viz (g)natty Thrip Pest...
This client (Matthew Scott)
availed himself at behest
of following counselor
who bares his chest
to Stephanie Dodds
(maid 'n USA name)
taught technique to minimize
ruffling feathers lest
the missus aggrieved
spending her nest
egg, thus self and missus
live destitute oppressed
as two basket of deplorables stressed
nearly every day envisioning
castles in air pipe dreams
when getting undressed
preparatory to dreams
within illusory shut eye
yours truly dons fancy vest
believe me you sold by Kanye West.
DEAR MAN skills
(feeble attempt more daunting
versus scaling Mount Everest)
embraced with zest
supported and blessedly underwritten
by loan granted from Univest
Bank ohm my dog to mitigate electric
resistance while no resistance
against kool psychological aid acid test,
whereby this husband espoused,
to help him recharge, (re:volt if necessary)...,
which endeavor now poetically expressed
concerning contentious gripe(s),
she would concur challenges we contest
beat within mine (possibly her) breast
unavoidable series of parallel events
disallows me to experience respite
as ye correctly guessed
impossible mission until
death do me part heavenly blessed,
meanwhile to maximize insight woke
involving DEAR MAN skills
with following example I attest
triggered food for thought
countless years gone by, no jest
which behavior even
eldest daughter did detest
specifically oft time ebt -
Electronic benefit transfer
i.e. food stamp money addressed
when wife spent lion's share
in one fell swoop, I did level best
to communicate while pride
hide hid ingest, wife acquiesced
yet without fail repeated offense
whereby mister diplomacy here
explained (with diminishing patience)
allocated funds sole comestible expense
then included four family members
issue got heated more emphatically
groused at my sidelined request
invariably spiking discourse
else... I threatened to divest
and stow card in wallet (mine),
yet invariably relinquished said item,
perhaps first will and testament bequest
if imposed, enforced, adhered...
would have nipped in bud
finding yours truly less obsessed,
nee furious every month
the vicious drama cycled
smoldering resentment did crest
into shouting tense match,
thus body electric lamely fleshed.
A Life in a Day
Alarms pull me from my sleeping
The demand of their incessant routine undermining
The peaceful thoughtless dreaming
Where for a time I had forgotten
Everything
And like a vulture perched upon my pillow
Squawks all the separate memories to peck with their reminders
To myself of me
And while the daybreak has hardly broken
And while the dark room still conceals them
They invade my blood and bones
To return me to their isolation
As I lay there trying hard to think of something else
Still no one sleeps beside me
Their is no one to hear the resignation of my sigh
As my fathers name upon my lips
Is spat to a distance I can forget
And shoved closed the door and close my mind
So from the water risen and from the mirror no recognition
And from televised news no compassion
While I whisper some conversation to a girlfriend I once new
And think the stupid ***** still does not have a clue
No mercy for the human condition
As daybreak is about to be broken
For the support of mere flesh and entertainment
I frequent the hours I sell for money in return
Then as I stretch beneath my sheet
And my children’s faces swim through my head
All the lost years that lay between them
All the moments we never had
Return me once again to my isolation
From the darkness of a lovers hair
From the soft contours of her breasts
In the urgent and breathless moan
All the girls that I have had and known
This sweetness of togetherness becomes an acid made honey
Another broken back on which to sleep
Another collected offense for me to keep
In the silence of the questions they never asked themselves
Still no one sleeps beside me
Their is no one to hear the resignation of my sigh
As my fathers name upon my lips
Is spat to a distance I can forget
And shoved closed the door and close my mind
How this will end is not clear to me
The day has just begun
And the existence of the remains of life in a continuum
I have not yet lifted my head
Not bathed the sleep from my eyes
The blink of dawn has yet to offer me its usual compromise
In the comfort and the certainty of isolations open arms
And isolation has its charms
Alarms pull me from my sleeping
The demand of their incessant routine undermining
The peaceful thoughtless dreaming
Where for a time I had forgotten
Everything
Revelations about Dad’s infamous midnight lectures...
woke up courtesy therapy
Especially during past session
on May eighth
two thousand twenty one
between the hours of five and
six o'clock post meridiem.
Between three and four score years ago
the following poetic ill winds did blow
yours truly felt like carrion
repurposed courtesy black crow
decimated to bajillion pieces
analogous to deaf eat, viz bitter foe
where within bared mine soul
telltale toxin did glow
yes dear reader cumulative wrath – hello
synopsis I invite thee to know
why self esteem within me so low
lackluster love life accentuated
cuz yours truly
never kissed under mistletoe
Dreadful homelife upon
exiting early adolescence
no bed of roses parental
wrath did commence
me (especially after
graduating bottom 1%)
scorned as among lowlife
versus being among
productive vested gents
I withstood blistering, mortifying
withering howling offense
yours truly uttered nary a peep.
I dreaded every malevolent utterance
when father requested he speak
not about some choice topic dejure
brought a twinkle to my eye,
but that all to familiar monologue
finding me standing like stone wall
hearing, tuning out with equally
predictable trademark demurely meek
pose with hands crossed against
chest of the then easily intimidated guy
despite feeling effects of utter ennui
and fatigue attempted to stand tall
against the tsunami verbal typhoon
itching to drown out said battle creek
when asked capisce? comprende? farshtayst?
looked blankly at floor well nigh
or pretended to stare at something extreme
fascinating on the kitchen wall
for he may as well asked if I understand
in an unfamiliar language such as Greek
most likely getting successful results
yammering away at common house fly
possibly seething inside (p’raps
equally swatted) ready to lash out into a brawl
held back by fear plus
in comparison to me pop –
just a itty bitty pipsqueak,
who felt onrushing and overpowering
desire to collapse and cry
compounded by growing urge
to urinate from that natural urethral call
spoke nada word, nor gave hint
of hearing from loathsome blather that did reek
like decomposition of fetid of dead
living entity that began to putrefy
which offal to mine ears, tugged impetus
under warm blankets to crawl!
From the moment we became grandparents we have felt conflicted
at the way, in books and media, grandparents are depicted.
But we’ve been grandparents for a while now
(one grandchild just graduated college)
So we believe it is time to share some grand-parental knowledge…
When a cartoonist draws a grandma her hair is invariably in a bun
If she’s not wearing a sweater…chances are she’s knitting one.
When she walks it’s with a cane and we will forever take offense
how she’s always wearing glasses and has no fashion sense
When a cartoonist draws a grandpa he is never very tall
His hair is a vibrant shade of gray or white…if he has any hair at all.
His plaid pants never match his shirt…his glasses are as thick as a window pane
He could be in a wheel chair or like Grandma…walking with a cane.
If you look around at grandparents today, you’ll find us agile and nimble and spry
In fact you’ll discover to your amazement those old stereotypes don’t apply.
Deborah doesn’t wear a muumuu…her hair is never in a bun,
If you ask our grandchildren what they think, they’ll say their Nana’s fun.
She’s creative, she’s compassionate, she’s patient and I can verify
She’s great with babies, loves to bake and sings a soothing lullaby.
As for me, though I am a little bald, I don’t wear plaid pants, never would.
snd if I do say so myself, I make the clothes I wear look good.
I do not fish, don’t watch much TV, I don’t read the Farmer’s Almanac
When my grandchildren ask to play football…guess who’s the quarterback?
Deborah and I will try jumping rope, playing soccer and climbing trees too
because in this day and age, in our generation, that’s what grandparents do!
We are a mix of old and new, we are much cooler and hipper than before
(Even though I’m pretty sure people don’t say cooler or hipper anymore!)
We embrace some of the traits of our grandparents, yes the good ones have survived
but speaking for Deborah and the grandparents I know, a new generation has arrived!
So cartoonists when you draw Deborah draw her with style, grace and fun
And if you’re drawing her baking cupcakes, make sure they’re funky ones.
And when you take your pencils out don’t draw me in a rocking chair
Instead…draw me climbing up a tree or in a top hat
and if you want…
you can add more hair.
I worked 25 years for a company that taught me several valuable lessons, but one has stood far and above all other lessons learned from that company. They taught me to 'check and double-check' and always 'assume nothing'.
I once had a friend who never realized that maybe her preconceived conclusion was not only subconsciously prejudicial but also offensive to me, and whereas I could have been righteously indignant toward her, I chose not to be. She never knew because we never discussed my beliefs about the subject matter. She was an older person set in her ways, and when she spoke in such an uninformed manner, I did not want to set her straight. So both in mind and in my heart, I forgave her of her serious 'lack of understanding'.
Barack Obama was running for president, and my white friend assumed because
I was Black like Obama, I would be voting for him to be president. She assumed wrongly. She lacked understanding about the fact that there are 10% of Blacks who vote 'Republican', unlike the 90% that traditionally vote 'Democratic'. She therefore lacked the understanding of me and my beliefs. She passed on several years ago, never knowing that she offended me. I knew her to be a good person and a personal friend with no offense intended. If I chose to correct every person that offended me, I would be overly busy.
I tell this story because it is very relevant to the times we are presently experiencing. These times are not new, but they continue to surface because we never solve them. At best, we conversate but seldom communicate. We investigate and facilitate, but we fall short of compensating with justice. I learned more from listening to my friend's discourse than I ever could have by correcting, arguing, or debating with her.
I've learned that we humans serve up more division and bigotry when we fail to listen. My friend falsely assumed that I was in a certain group and therefore thought the same. Racial injustice is nothing new, but there are times when egregiousness becomes a tipping point, a neon sign that compels and forces the world to take notice and act.
061220PS
I wrestle with against vulnerable boundaries
to invasive intimacy,
left unlanguaged yet right felt dismay
could not sustainably remain
without being said outloudlyish
in some bicameral bilateral bipolar balancing brainiac
polypathically left merely cooperationalizing,
creolizing Sacred Elders feeling self-righteous
matriarchal nutritionisms,
spiritual and diminished secular scientissues
falling failing OtherWise,
hypothetical proofs of co-incidence.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Not not here.
I wish.
Go notnot away.
Where dissonance grows troubling
such dismay's source is left label searched for
within economic causes
producing secular with sacred ecological effects
to become biologically expected
in and through bilateral regenerational returns,
depending on the faith systemic word choices preferred
by All EarthLives Matter
sacred ecosystemic recoverers,
co-listening
deep mutual learners
comfortable in tranquil ponds
of lucid equal harmonies
ringing double-boundaries
singing
winging
flinging not here not now
invisible hypotheses
of Zero-Core bicameral bilaterality.
Rich loving mentors,
teachers,
but please,
not another preacher
of cognitive patriotism
against affective ecofeminist intuitive self-defense
begun against
lunar-scheduled matriotism,
offense against solar Yanger
wanger
bangers,
Pi to pay
the multiculturing pipers,
ecofitters,
multiculturing quilters
and organic happy, sometimes a little high,
farmers
of antiquity,
herstoric myth tellers
and legend gossips
and polypathic paradigming architects
exforming evolutionary incarnations
as revolutionary reverse-notnot
evolutionary
yet as now appositionally bilateral
absence of cognitive-affective dissonant
boundaries
of vulnerably echoing reiterative transparency,
both ego threat of rightwing dominant terrorism
and eco-opportunity,
left with right wing ego/eco-dominance
as positive psychology
and EarthTribe EcoJustice
complicated redisunprecovery
of often deep dense politics.
All about atomizing power
both/and wavey-linear flow.
Wherein we wrestle with,
but preferably not against,
vulnerable boundaries
about too invasive double-binding intimacy
left unlanguaged
yet right felt dismay,
sung in
and through thin
diminishing dissonance.
My mother believed in prayers, more than my father did
My father believed in tackling his problem with a flask of
White rum, I believed in the moment of things:
They are hidden compartments inside of us, my poetic friends
“Being in the moment” can be a helpful reminder if we understand it in a more expansive way
Perhaps it was true, when someone said to deal with some situation at moment times
I refused to grieve for my dearly departed husband,
Past experience, wouldn’t allowed me to weep at his grave
My lack of dispassion and willful stubbornness.
Did I really love him, did I really forgive him?
Maybe it was the disrespectfulness, I couldn’t forgive,
The truth is quite different. Forgiving an offense empowers the offended. It is to a man’s glory to overlook an offense (Proverbs 19:11)
I can’t change, the past, but I can learn from it, it might prevent me
From walking through a fire, such as that,
I would look at his picture on my refrigerator, and I love him and I hate him
In that same moment, we are surely bedmates
My distance craving, my longing to be held tightly throughout the night.
If a person can fulfill needs for companionship, love, sex or mating, there is a greater chance that the other person will fall in love with him or her over, and over again
Somehow not me, you burn, you affect me deeply,
I have done all of this, and came out the loser, all the time
Love is not for me. loneliness is my captive
I know, I know, I know, loneliness need not to have the final words
Even when the world is against me,
I will shine through, like old ancient Bims
I lost the love of my life due to jealousy,
He lost me because I love him enough to let him go,
I had a breakthrough, I had given up on loving, a mortal again
I rather be alone, than living with them and be lonely,
I was never programed to fail, or stand for foolishness
Yes, call me stubborn, called me high and mighty,
Call me the new modern girl, I will not age like a failure
But with greatness, with relentless pursuit for my happiness,
I deserved this. I know I do, the poet within, know I do
As my online paparazzi stalk me. They need to go ahead
And do their own thing... lol