Reality

Poetry: Share the Morn

Share the Morn

It’s early
but not dark
and it’s raining,
none too gently

clouds shed rain drops
and hide the sun
for a while. Hear –
feel – smell – taste,

and see the rain
on a mild morning,
to walk and get wet
feels good to be

alive, wishing you
here by me with rain
to share
what is so good.
I guess, in a way
you are here.

Look both ways, morning, noon, and night.
Mind the gaps, puddles, and slippery when wets.

Poetry: The Extinction of Humanity

I feel helpless and hopeless
watching a world full of people
essentially committing suicide.

To say it’s a crazy world is not good enough.
Nature will in some way survive,
planet Earth will go on without us.

We have most of the wisdom and insight
to tweak life and existence from Her,
but we will not, and I can’t fix it.

Self-annihilation through denial,
ironically seeking a better life
believing what is bad is in fact good.

Deceptions. Mortality sings only a dirge,
cries of lament over what might have been.
Humanity: another great failed experiment.

Consider all options and look both ways.
Find and mind the gaps for the science of truth.

Sammi’s Weekender #144: sculpture

Cowboys look like Cooper, Wayne,
Marvin; or tall, thin Stewart. I seen
movies in the 50’s,
High Noon or Liberty Valance with
great songs.

Not s’posed to look like the sculpture.
The horse is right,
but the cowboy rock sittin’ is short,
round-faced with a big ‘stash and
no gun, holdin’ reins
lest Ol’ Buck runs off spooked.

The wrangler wears chaps and a jacket.
Reality ain’t movies, both’s art though.

Drop your blinders and look both ways.
Mind the gaps for, “The history of mankind is carried on the back of a horse.”

Sammi’s Weekender #143: elysian

My Nebular Hypothesis

As pale second-row space dust
fills elysian tensions
with galactic hues
of cosmic color,
reflecting star-glow visions,

Creations from passing stars,
with no night skies or eyes
to see wondering worlds,
gods of fortune
grant the ages.

An immortal Elysium paradise
of cosmogonic gods breathe
magic into lifeless particles,
and life is called forth,
a creation.

Look both ways, then look up.
That is an awesome sight.
Mind the celestial gaps
for they hide galactic wonder where we may wish to wander.

Sammi’s Weekender #142: Looking-glass

i know. you know this privilege
denied many, this gift of age,
being long of life. pleasures
charging dues paid
with guilt, pain, and sorrow.

now i see that it’s
no longer me; old bones
with thin skin,
lost hair
or worthless white wisps.

does this looking-glass lie?
let me be what i was—

young. look, old man. look at me.
i’m your truth.

See truth and reality in the looking glass. Mind the gaps and ignore the bald spots.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #141: Imperious

The vertical pronoun was your god,
the long corncob pipe,
a crutch as you’d exude imperious
confidence of irresponsible
narcissistic self-assured vanity.

Brilliance without wisdom never
questions self or knows dark
duality like Hastie Lanyon’s soul.
Your crime, a distant impassioned
supercilious and cavalier concern
for the misery your pomposity
beset upon your courtiers, devout
mindless adventured foolish demons,

lost souls who rose to the peek
of principled Peters with blindfolded
ignorance of history in the future,
now a legacy of incompetence
foddered with pride. With hubris
envied by Xerxes, you forced
your own shameful dismissed
demise.

The wisdom of a fading old soldier
heroically without end is clouded
by the dark shadow of your way,
the way, and the way of stars.

Legacy looks both ways, but history finds truth in justice.
Mind the gaps of human success for the failure of the soul.

Poetry: Famous Shit Float

Not since Mobile Bay’s view
of the infamous Poop Cruise ship
(2013 docked view from I-10)
have I joined thousands on
a wasteful float to who-cares where,
doing nothing to be in the
vulnerable middle of
a watery nowhere.

Cruise food may be good
and if you are looking
for the ten pounds I lost
you may find it there,
but must we live
in postage stamp rooms
with a view of nothing
ever new, to overeat well?

I’m done with cruise line
silliness, getting on and off
and making memories
I’d like to forget,
but I hope not
so much for eating well.
ROAD TRIP!?

***

To look both ways, we must know one from the other.
In the middle of truly nowhere, not even the gaps can feed the fish.

Prose Poem: Sammi’s Weekender – Devour

Need of Greed

This economy lies with deceptive pleasure – destruction, pending one hell of a bill to pay. We suck and devour the heritage of descendant’s gifts, their demise through our greed. When the well runs dry, the piper calls for payment, recovery of burnt offerings to self without gods who care for a prayer. Easy plunder blinds our need for air, water, food, and fire. Misery awaits death and disaster, sending ignored warnings past personal pleasure.

It’s not yet too late to reverse unwanted ends with the wisdom of science, we can turn the page. What higher cause to save humanity, perhaps the planet, our tiny corner of the universe?

Look both ways to past mistakes, future consequences,
bookends for today’s wisdom.
Mind the gaps in human psyche for sources of timely recovery.