For me, the film Back to the Future boils down to one scene.
The scene when Marty McFly’s Mom, Lorraine, notifies the family that “Uncle Joey didn’t get parole”
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“On Our Way To Saturday Morning Ballet”
“On Our Way To Saturday Morning Ballet”
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Poet Love of the Day
AIR AND LIGHT AND TIME AND SPACE – Charles Bukowski
”– you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have
a place and the time to
create.”
no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.
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“Curbed”
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“When I Used To Pray”
“When I Used To Pray”
When I used to pray,
There was a solemnity to my humility.
Over time cynicism took hold,
And converted me.
Now in despair of wonder,
I prey upon opportunities to anger.
The passion of apathy perpetuates,
And success derives of lack of faith.
A vacuum provides a steady nurturing,
And in no time,
I am adrift on a turbulent sea.
Bobbing on the waves,
Atop a raft of shoddy construction.
Just enough to crest the waves.
Precarious.
Any moment the scales could tip.
And I could drown.
Prayer used to be useful,
Until it wasn’t.
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“Results May Vary”
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“Time To Move On”
“Time To Move On”
My ever present past,
In need of a recast.
The cow has been milked,
To exhaustion.
Nostalgia n’ere excuses,
Cruelty-wrapped ruses.
Done is done is done.
Except to those that measure themselves large,
Relative to the chalk outlines I left behind.
Ive learned in time,
That they are defined,
Quite morally and conveniently,
By the degree of the shadow cast by my sins.
But, weren’t they also there?
Wrapped up in the spectacle.
Often neglectful,
Memory proves fuzzy,
When assigning accountability.
A good laugh.
Measured in ivory hands,
Absolved from the washed away sins.
Sink basin just a theater of the absurd,
Premiering hollow gestures.
The word your tongue can’t fashion is not complicated, but complicit.
Running with the devil,
Playing with fire.
A gilded guild of guilt,
Thrown, throw, threw association.
Witnessed, yet dismissed.
The sins I carry are less of a burden,
Thanks to your indifference.
With all due respect,
It’s time to move on.
Time to move on.
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“Bono Vox”
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POEMVEMBER 2018-DAY 30:“Enchantment Under The Sea”
“Enchantment Under The Sea”
The sky is falling.
The water is rising.
Leaders of men,
Are constantly lying.
Knowledge derided,
Reason eschewed,
Scientific advancement,
Set back, a century or two.
Citizens beaten,
Apathetic, deflated.
Sensible legislation,
is not even debated.
How did we get to this place,
If you please?
A gradual decline,
Or traveling light speed?
What is projected,
A century?
A quarter?
Before most of our homes are underneath water?
The naysayers doubt,
The naysayers scoff.
A silver tongued devil,
Hides all the proof of,
Data and scientific speculation,
Of things that will happen,
To most of our nation.
What will it take to believe?
A hurricane season,
With storms A-Z?
More extensive forest fires,
Coastal cities inundated,
An impotent Congress,
That forgot what debate is.
What will it cost?
What will it be?
A future Enchantment Under the Sea.
Perhaps, we’ll grow gills,
Adapt and move on.
Nah, we deserve what is coming.
We brought all of it on.
Hubris, and excess,
Exploitation, and greed.
Elected officials,
Unwilling to speak,
Against special interests,
And big industry.
Fake news, and diversions,
Mealey mouthed duplicity.
There is nothing enchanting,
About living under the sea.
Unless of course,
You’re able to breathe.
One thing for certain,
That can’t be debated,
Our behavior,
Caused this process to become accelerated.
A special thank you goes out to my wife. My most ardent supporter, and the one that gets the pleasure of dealing with my cranky ass on the daily. When she has participated in my projects in the past, I’ve cheaped out and wrote a haiku, or did something that didn’t have quite enough panache. So I’ve upped my effort on this post.
Poemvember 2018, has been a month-long poetry project where colleagues, friends, and associates volunteered a word or phrase, which I in turn fashioned into a poetical response. I had great fun exploring all the possibilities that were volunteered, and enjoyed collaborating with people whether they are writers, poets, or readers.
If you enjoyed this post, please come back tomorrow, when I will follow up this project with my December effort: The ProCrasstheNation.com Advent Calendar Blog. Give me a month, and I’ll give you 25 Mysterious Decorative Doors. What awaits behind each day’s door? Well, you’ll have to click the door links to find out. Please join me for what promises to be a fun month of poems, stories, and a few Christmas Surprises.
If anyone is in the Metro Boston area on December 7th, please consider joining me, and my best friend, the West Coast Bandit, as we attend a night full of entertainment for a great cause at: Don’t Forget Your Art!
I will definitely be performing a previously unpublished piece. You should really come by and see if the poem is about you. How will you ever know if you aren’t there? Are you willing to take that chance?
https://www.paperlesspost.com/flyer/go/j1BZnnAFjklWlNTM7JQp
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“Present Tense”
