"The truth will set you free"
That is what others say,
To live in God's decree,
Is living in a moral way.
But what is this morality,
In a world of greed and lust?
How should we live in this society,
Of crimes and lack of trust?
Do I need to obey the rules?
Does morality offer standards?
Should I join the join the old fools?
Or should I act like an old wizard?
Is knowledge needed to understand morality?
Or just pure common sense?
Is morality an answer to the disputes of equality?
Or just another form of offense?
Why is morality important to us?
Is it a requisite to maturity?
Why does morality bring everyone to a fuss?
Is it an accessory to improve one's personality?
Why is stealing wrong?
Why is a murder a crime?
Why should we follow the law of the throng?
Why should we be slaves of time?
Questions playing on my mind,
Silhouettes haunting my reason,
Answers I need to find,
To prove myself a moral person.
An old man walks the cobbled streets
Of a city he helped create
When he had walked on younger feet
Back so proud and straight
The bog’s of Ireland he left behind
To search for a better life
In a foreign city’s numbing grind
With mind erasing strife
Loneliness ate his homesick heart
And solace he did seek
In bars where he became a part
Of sad emigrants clique
Far too swiftly his life took flight
With only dreams of home
Work filled days and drink filled nights
But always so alone
Cruel age stole the years and strength
As quick as you could blink
Work and home and hope soon went
Only friend now left is drink
So now he walks those cobbled streets
Homeless broke and old
While in his mind old ghosts he greets
Clad in green and white and gold
Caseworker Takes Notes
I was there the day
there trickled down the wall
of an old man's room one roach
that stopped across
a canyon in the plaster till
the old man's elevated slipper fell.
The roach absorbed the blow
and as though perforated for that purpose
dissolved into an archipelago.
The old man looked at me
and patiently explained, "Despite my
constant smacking of its brethren
one roach each day will trickle down that wall
and pause and pose as if to say,
‘Go ahead and smack me, that's okay.'"
To take advantage of the archipelago at hand
the old man pointed toward the last palpitating island
and once again explained,
"Each roach I smack, you see,
offers me that same good-bye--
one last flicker of antennae."
Donal Mahoney
Got a DVD of the Honeymooners
And one of the Old Jack Benny Show
Watched The Quiet Man with John Wayne
Where did all the morals go
Violence and garbage all over the TV
Violence and garbage on the news too
Nothing of value anymore
They don’t make them like they use to
Got in my car and noticed the similarities
Most of the cars look the same
Thought about my 56 Bel Air
Driving was a different game
All the models had their own style
AM radio that we’d cruise to
Something special under the hood
They don’t build them like they use to
Thought about my old high school
Attending pep rallies before the big one
Everyone showed up to cheer
Every body having fun
There were rules we had to follow
We couldn’t do whatever we choose to
School was different in those days
They don’t teach them like they use to
I see neighbors building higher fences
Live next door and don’t know each other
We lived in an ally full of kids
Treated each like a sister or brother
Neighbors visited without knocking
Never needed an excuse to
Just drop in to shoot the breeze
They don’t have neighbors like they use to.
How much do you remember
Of that fleeting conversation,
Between you and that old lady,
While waiting for the bus?
How much?
How much do you recall
Of her appearance- her face,
Her classic make up (or was there none),
The pattern on her head scarf,
The style of her clothes?
How much?
How much does her voice
Ring in your ears, the clear
southern vowels, or the rolling rhythm
of the north, or was her accent more,
Was she loud or soft spoken?
How much?
How much shopping had she,
How many bags, cans of food,
Boxes of tea, tins of biscuits,
A newspaper maybe a magazine,
Enough for just one or more for one more?
How much?
How much time did she take,
hobbling up the steps of that
old bus when it came, the bus
that was her's but not your's,
All her unnecessary apologies?
How much?
That old lady died next day.
And no one knew till this day.
How much do you wish
that you had asked her name?
How much do you wish
you had offered to escort her?
How much do you wish
you had made her a nice cup of tea?
How much do you wish
you'd bothered to help?
How much do you wish
you had not just idly pitied her?
How much?
Why, the old man froze to death
fingers and toes burning,
a slow, painful death, the coroner
says; the neighbors say they tried,
the city never lies, they will shut off
service of essential services,
and so life goes. Why,
the old man froze to death
huddled in double layers.
He’s not alone this season,
‘tis a freezing season, three
reports this week. I reckon
we’re not civilized enough
to have heat for everyone.
Hey Johnny O,
With your true Little Mercy
Set our student hearts dreaming
Of living in and serving
Dusty old villages
Not worthy of mention in the papers
With parched land or pretty green.
But then, Johnny O
Little did you and Mercy know
One day such damning blood will flow
When you are living in and serving
In your little village
Not knowing if the hospital jeep can go
To see your patients, who are waiting.
You know Johnny O
We almost followed your mercy tracks
But just in time did step back
From dusty old villages
For I can't quite guess from these papers
What I'd have done, with all that's happening.
I might have ended up
Like you and Mercy in a village scene
Not knowing if today or tomorrow the mob will come visiting
Or perhaps like your friend Binayak
In a stone cold cell, alone be sleeping.
Just in time, I stepped back
Just in time, to be safe and secure
Just in time, so my kids can go to a good school
Just in time, to take in a movie or two
Just in time, to relish rava-dosai, pop some corn,
These to you just don't belong
Just in time, saved my skin
But Merci, Johnny O
For taking my place there...