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Richard Davis Poem
Classic rock
Played so softly
Zooming
Grooving
Got it playing
So quietly
Though it’s kind
Of metal
Rocking
But It brings back
Cool memories
And I love
My music
But all those commercials
But even those
There so funny
Always selling insurance
And always pushing
Warranties
Offering tidbits
About John Lennon
And Michael Jackson
Buying all Beatles
Music rights
And I guess
That’s why Sir McCartney
Suddenly embraced
Michael Jackson
And loved all
His music
When before
We wasn’t into it
And Paul got it
Back
Made John really mad
And George suddenly
Wasn’t so spiritual
And Ringo
Really started
Heavy drinking
Funny how
One little tidbit
Mixed with
Hard music
Can illuminate things
Making you think
Life’s too much
Of a business
And come to think
Of it
Paul gave a lot
Of the stuff
Back to the other
Beatles
And they
Pretty much
Got a long
Again
Although John
Held a big grudge
But Yoko
Had a head
For business
And got his
Fair share
As they kind
Of saw it
And they
Kind of got along
Until John
Got wasted
By an ass
Who half thought
He was John
Asked for John’s autograph
And ended
The best show
Around
And the NYork Post
Bought a photo
Of dead John
Dying on the ground
He could no longer
Sing those beautiful songs
And people were screaming
The Post is just a business
And Paul kept on rocking
Making all kinds of music
People screaming
He’s too commercial
He’s too damn corporate
And it goes on and on
Stevie Wonder
Is now singing
This song
About how he misses
Those days as a child
When life was easy
And free
Yeah, I remember
Playing ball in the alley
Digging that little
Jewish girl
Across the alley
In some ways
I had it real bad
But I didn’t know
Life didn’t seem
Like a business
Nuns gave me
The answers
And I didn’t have
All these damn questions
And it seemed
Pretty nice
Taking the nun’s advice
Playing third base
It was always my position
Right through graduate
School
But by then
I had too many questions
And it didn’t seem
So magical
Charlie Hustle
Was an all-star
And a great manager
But he threw the series
Cause the mobsters
Got to him
Gave him so much money
So he could afford
All those hunnies
But somewhere along
The line
I learned to tow
The line
But started loving
These questions
Finding things out
And life became magical
And I liked baseball
Even more
Even a little polo
Highlights, a little basketball
And soccer’s really peaceful
And adore Spanish
Music
Liked Selena
Maybe more than
The Beatles
Always into
Classical, jazz
You name it
Cause they let me
Be at peace
With the fact
That life
Is a business.
And remember
How I loved Selena
Everyone that knew me
Really saw it
And a gun
Blew her away
Cause one of her
Business managers
Thought she was her
And stole from her
And took her away
Her fan’s
Were never the same
Her husband Chris
Is a wonderful
Man
Does everything he can
To show Selena
Didn’t see it all
Like a business
And he’s like me
He asks a hell
Of a lot of good questions
And he loves
All kinds of music
And returning
To performing
Playing with a hard
Edge again
Just heard him
Practicing
Sharing his video
With me
So we can all
Hear him lamenting
With that
Heavy metal influence
That’s asking
Why life
Has to be
So much
Of a business.
4.4.23.
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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Richard Davis Poem
One day not so long ago
I walked
Never alone
For the world
Is always my home
It was a late
Spring snow
Yet I felt
Invisible red roses
Offering sweetest perfume
To my nose and soul
There’s such warmth
In snow-filled winter
No bitterness
No lack of forgiveness
There’s much coolness
In hottest humid sun
Much calm in spring
Unpredictability
Much tranquility
In autumn’s
Rustic leaves
Rose colored glasses?
Maybe
Hypocrisy
Yes I see
Your point
But,
I noice how
We all point
But in all kinds
Of weather
I sense something
Mysterious
Even delirious
Is it hope?
Maybe
But I feel
A gentle knowing
A glowing
So that when
Sadness descends
I don’t deny it
I don’t even hide it
I will write about it
And transform it
Because not much
Is black and white
Either or
A dialectical
A dialogue I feel
In harshest wind
In the lovely
Waving meadow
Kind of all the same
Do we really
Need another name
Isn’t it insane
To obsessively categorize
Prioritize
Always sizing up
Summing up
Is it really true
Your golden rule
For you
And everyone
Not like you
There are so many layers
So many levels
So many hierarchies
But who’s hierarchies
Whose catechisms
Should I impose
My soul
On your life
When you’re
Struggling to
Just get by?
When I worked
Part time
In such a complex
Web of energies
Called a bookstore
A famous man
In a famous band
Came in
Sat down
And signed his books
Letting others
Take pictures
With love
He stayed so long
Smiling
Giving
Sharing
Not promising
He volunteered
To stay beyond
The stores’s closing
Chatting on the
Glistening downtown
Sidewalks
Interacting
Without much acting
Crying with some
Laughing with others
Security got a little worried
Cause crowds were forming
Fans started swarming
The staff said
What’s with this man
Taking about
Eternal love
Do you think
He’s high
Do you think
He’s gay
More labels
More names
More stereotypes
What’s he up to
Doesn’t he have a life
And where exactly
In his wife?
So I asked straight
Before it was late
Cause I was getting tired
I was up at 3
I said Mr so and so
Where do you
Get all your giving-ness
Willingness
He answered
I’m still a good Jew
I studied
Hillel
A sage with warmth
Not just law
But Spirit
So when I’m
Not too tired
I think of the
One I admire
He’d approve.
I sense you do too
He signed a book
For me
Bought it for me
At his insistence
The limo pulled up
His wife beaming
And singing in the back
Reading a National Geographic
He walked inside
The vehicle
They waved to all
And kissed
In amber light
I stopped at Wendy’a
Had nice large
Chocolate frosty
I opened his book
And noticed what he wrote
He scribbled
A man you admire
Said do
As I do.
It was peaceful
But a marginalized
Intoxicated man
Threw up
On the yellow table
Should I offer
Another label?
Na, I bought him
A burger, fries
And extra strong
Coffee with cream
And have him the book
He gave me a friendly look
As I cracked my neck
And back
You have pain too
He said?
Guess we all do
Sometimes I said,
Hopefully I’ll sleep well
I bemoaned
Glad I’d be able to
Lay around
The next day
As I walked out
There were cops
All around
There had been
A shooting
And some kind
Of looting
This city’s gone to hell
A young lady groaned
More at me
Than to me
I said yeah
I can see your point
But I remember
Thinking
Yeah and just
About everyone else’s
I’m not prone
To overt
Mysticism
Depending how
You define it
I’ve been known
To light a candle
Have spiritual statues
Maybe that’s about it
But I also noted
That night the train
Was crowded
The people seemed
Energized
From my perspective
The night was mixed
With hues
Of blue, gold
And violet repose
The breeze was just right.
Walked in the door
At home
Not feeling alone
At all
My rented room
Still nice and clean
I lied down
On lumpy
Mattress on the floor
Didn’t have a window
But felt
A misty glow
As I picked up
An anthology
Listening to
Grover Washington Junior
Melt an alto
Saxophone solo
From the tiny boom-box
I bought for
Eleven dollars
Skimmed through
The pages
Of Martin Buber’s
Lovely words
He said something about
People shouting
Turning each other
Into it’s —
Again labels.
I was beat.
Closed my eyes
Felt spring kissed
Dreams even before
Fully asleep
The next morning
I was energized
At ease
Frankly feeling
Great
Ran across the hall
Took a nice cool shower
While the bathroom
Was available
What the hey,
Maybe I’d call
To see if they needed
Help
At the hospital
I volunteered
Walked in
Peaceful loving morning
Students mixing
Forever repairing
The world
In mischievous
Suspicious
Electric stars
Free of
Encapsulating
Enclosures
Walked into Burger King
Singing Los Tigers del Norte
Songs
Used the pay phone
They’d love to have me
For a few hours
I needed to get in
My hours
For some silly
Financial aid
Package
And had some scrambled
Eggs and weak tea.
Looking through
Variety magazine
To see what movies
We’re on the scene
Hopped on still more
Trains
Mixing with
All kinds of people
Multicolored pastels
In abundant fresh air
Inside, they’d put meRight to work
In a tiny office
That kind of smelled
With a cracked ceiling
About to fall down
They had me doing
Intake,
I’d see four patients
With addictions issues
I’d listen
Not having too much
Experience with
With the issue
I took some notes
Write what I observed
Enjoying the people
Glad that
My back muscles were
Loosening
Categorization
Not imploding
Acceptance flowing
And with each patient
I wrote
Addiction disorder
After 90 days
Of clean living
We’d see
About some
Some label.
5.14.23
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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Richard Davis Poem
I know this preacher
Big and famous
Books and hooks
Got good looks
The gals all love
Dudes are glued
To his words
Though some think
He’s a turd
He’s got so much money
He stopped counting
Talks about his legacy
So he can buy
The universe
And not read my verse
He’s got no degrees
Though he knows
His Bible
In some one-sided way
Makes you wonder
What he’s been
Snorting
He’s not into politics
But into property
Bought himself
A basketball arena
But I like the guy
Though his services
Are too long
Cause I grew up Catholic
We’re into quick masses
And short little services
For fast busy people
But I’m addicted to
His podcasts
Start listening to him
First thing in the morning
Holding my rosary
Makes me feel holy
Don’t pray with words
Just thinking of Jesus’s
Death, passion
That kind of stuff
That’s my routine
Can’t quite explain it
He’s the most popular
Preacher in the world
Not bad for a man
Without formal degrees
I like his jokes
He seems so sincere
His wife’s pretty hot
And helps families
A lot
I kind of know my stuff
But have a background
In the sociology
Of popular religion
So I want to study him
Without much suspicion
I think he inspired
With his diverse choir
He likes country music
So long as it’s religious
Has issues with gays
Though claims
We all have our own path
And besides makes me laugh
He still welcomes gays
In an odd kind of way
And I listen to him
Holding my rosary
Not sure why
But he’s so
Entertaining
He’s into his money
Thinks bigger is better
And he raises much more
Giving so much away
Usually in secret
And I don’t think
It’s just a big rumor
He’s got a big house
Says you can too
Just remember
That God wants ten percent
To go to his rent
But he never forces
But tells us we’re favored
And that you and God
Can be
Rolling in bucks
He does have valid
Perspectives
Does what he preaches
Really minds
His own business
He sort of talks
Like a regular Joe
I think he’s sincere
Though not into beer
He points out
And reminds me
Of points
In the Bible
But I’m kind of
Into the guy
I still don’t know why
Has that genuine smile
Many people are
Are not into church
But him they like
In him they find
Someone who is positive
Someone with faults
Someone who helps
Someone’s who’s kind
Yet he’s an
Entertainer, just like me
Yet he’s not willing
To take political stands
Yet he’s best friends
With Jimmy Carter
But supports
Tele-evangelists
Who seem to be con-men
Yet I know for a fact
He’ll go into a restaurant
And buy the whole
Place a meal
And admits his faults
It’s apparent he’s knows
Jewish studies
Eastern thought too
He knows and understands
Science
Doesn’t brag
Doesn’t let on
That he sleeps
Not so much
Studying all the time
His books are well written
In simple beauty
And grace
Yet he’s so
Commercial
He makes people
Believe bigger
Is better
But is really into
Mother Theresa.
He’s an entertainer.
Yet I write
A lot of satire
Though don’t have
The bucks
But I listen
Every morning
While I talk
To the Blessed Mother
And I’m a member
I send him
A small donation
Every month
Not ten percent
More like two
Cause there are
Other places
That need help too
And he’s texted me
Personally
With his kind of calendar
He’s made time
For me
Saying I’m doing
The right thing
And that I’m still
A member if I
Donate nothing at all
This preacher is famous
Thinks bigger is better
Though not always
He’s so commercial
But helps so many more
Than me
This I can see
So I listen to him
While I pray
In my own
Imperfect way.
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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Richard Davis Poem
Sound Check
At five this morning
I opened the drapes
There was a little
Blue bird perched
On the white railing
He did not move
Holding a peanut
While I was singing
Santana
Picturing Santana
As I had seen him
At Grant Park
Wearing a blue
Bandana
And playing
A royal blue
Guitar
Making the guitar
With a bit
Of peaceful effort
Sing softly
A five minute solo
And a black hawk
Flew above him
All the other musicians
Stopped playing
And Santana was
Ad-libing
For maybe ten minutes
And although there were
A half-million people
The crowd grew so quiet
You could hear
The sounds of Michigan
Avenue traffic
The sun shone clear
The crowd was in awe
Santana was praying
While he played
He was singing
In Spanish
The Act of Contrition
Over and over
The crowd joining in
Behind him
Was a banner
Of Our Lady Of Guadalupe
Maybe he’d play
Another ten minutes
The same wondrous way
The entire band turned
The gal next to me
Started crying
Everyone faced
Our Lady
And were singing,
Praying in english
Spanish and polish
The Gal next to me
Was still crying
And then I remembered
This was only rehearsal
The crowd was expanding
Everyone was quiet
The breeze was gentle
The crowd sang softly
More birds
Flew on stage
It was 75 degrees
The crowd was mournful
But ecstatic
The woman’s little boy
Jumped on my lap
As the band left the stage
Santana turned and smiled
See you guys
In one hour
Then he put arms and
Hands in the air
Looking into sky
He said
Gracias.
Te Adoro.
The crowd was weeping
I was stunned
The crowd was quiet.
I, the little boy
And the mom
Next to me began
Singing
Como La Flor
Then the whole row
The whole section
Sang softly along
The wind picked up
The sun was brighter
The sky had gotten
A copper blue shade
Like a painting
The crowd kept singing
Louder and louder
Now quite loud
And finally the voices
Drifted
The birds flew peacefully
Over the park
And everyone was noticing.
The mom next to me said
Firmly
There is hope.
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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Richard Davis Poem
Let me tell
You some
More stories
Since so many
Of you are into
Stories
This one’s about writers
And a bit about
Social media
I’m no encyclopedia
But I’m a wannabe writer
And I studied
Neuropsychology
And by the way
I can show you
My transcripts
And my old licenses
And show you
How to verify them
But let’s get going
Cause these stories
Can be long,
I know a bit
About writers
It’s easier for them
To observe
And notice things
Instead of rising
To the top
Of a corporation
Has a lot to do
With neurocircuitry
And biochemical
Feedback loops
But I imagine
You don’t need
Every detail
Writers work from home
A lot
And tend
To have strange jobs
And weird educations
Need so many perspectives
All artists
I’d guess
Look at Bob Dylan
He has some
Great gospel albums
He believes in
Orthodox Judaism too
And that odd dude
Won the Nobel Prize
So he’s not so cracked.
You know back
In the day
Sometimes writers
Had fifty resumes
They weren’t really lying
But for grants
Various assignments
They’d emphasize
This and that
Do what you
Need to do
To pay your own rent
But these days
It’s so much easier
To cut
And paste
And people do,
No big deal
Changing those
Demographics.
Sometimes it’s
For protection
Cause you know
How things
Get personal.
And when you
Make a few changes
Those logarithmic
Dances go a buzzing
And you can reach
A whole new audience
Saying that your
In London
Or even
Without a location.
There’s a zillion
Good reasons
And writers
Really know this
They have jobs
They just don’t
Sit around
Playing with histories
As I’m sure
You damn noticed
Cause you can
Change your horizon
And autobiography
In a few minutes time
So there’s time
To rhyme
And do some writing
And interacting
With your peers
And I know you guys
Understand
Cause I’ve a lot
Of virtual friends
And predictably
So many
Are artists
And happen
To be writers.
And I’m grateful
You guys
Showed me
How to do it
Hope you’ve
Learned at least
A tiny bit
From me.
Seems we tend
To know about hacking
Cause a lot of we
Write, what we think
Makes some
People
But it seems
We just don’t quit
And even the mafia
Has a general rule
About not messing
With writers
Cause we investigate
And tend
To write what
We find
But I’ll tell you
A true story
Cause these days
It’s fashionable
To wanna hear
People’s stories
Unless they’re
Writing and analyzing
The people
Who wanna hear
Your story
This is
An admission
A kind of confession
We all know
With computers
A lot of stuff happens
Lots of innocent stuff
But let’s face it
Lot of hateful people
Are into things
Like data analytics
And data trees
Just like those
Corporations
You get my drift
And if I catch you
Reading my posts
Changing things around
Distorting
And glancing
Prancing
Playing political games
Pretending your
Innocent
Implying, denying
Deceiving and slanting
And while I laugh
And joke
And in a way
Don’t really care
Some of you
I’m sure
Kind of noticed
I’ll tell you
A bit of my truth
And sometimes
It’s a test
To see who you tell
And see how
You use it
Cause we writers
Tend to be empathetic
But let’s face it
We also have high IQ’s
And if you
Take my words
Get into my world
And try to run amuck
Be damn sure
That when I delete you
It was no act
Of god
But you may notice
You’re not blocked
So you can
See all my stuff
Cause
I’m not
Really vengeful
I’m not into revenge
And besides I’m not
So good
At new technologies
I got so much
Else to do
And so if I don’t
Block you
With my limited
Nohow, it makes
It easier to track you
And find out
So much about you
And those that
You love
How you’re
Family made money
And that’s for starters
But I’m not trying
To bore you
But let’s just say
I know how to use it
And look all around
In just a few minutes
It’s no bother
At all
And the thing
About writers
Is they seem
To always be learning
So it can get worst
And if you haven’t
Noticed I’m
Quite an open book
Cause I’m
Just a writer
But let me
Send you a clear message
The thing about writers
They can
Open
Your book too!
4.4.23
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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Richard Davis Poem
Perfect dancing in the sky
Seagulls fly and glide
Singing, landing on spring grass
Sky so blue of breezy glass
Sifting, drifting finding sun
In the light of glorious youth
In the rustic haze of age
Quiet rainbow’s inner eye
Filling soul and heart within
Nothing is a sin but fear
Laughing dancing sky so kind
Soothing love’s unwinding rain
Peaceful geese release pure love
Kissed from heaven’s
Gentle verse
Spoken, woken
Without words
Dancing stars
Twinkling sighs
Deep within
And outer moons
Casting shadows
Melting ice
I’ve pretending
To be sun
Room for planets
Rooms for all
Mysteries singing
Quiet song
Filling hearts
That bask in love
Wanting endless
Timeless grace
Eyes of peace
Is all we need.
4.5.23
Copyright © Richard Davis | Year Posted 2023
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