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Fulfillment finally

Been rotating with agility
while precisely ‘hanging in there’
in serviceable docility
next to gurgling porcelain chair

Squeezable white roll flowingly gowned
personality tightly bound
gradually becoming unwound:
Can’t handle one more flushing sound!

Then after no more sheets to be ripped
lost in predicament mirthless:
Tossed away naked to the core, stripped
abandoned, overlooked, worthless

But behold! By a tiny child found
the roll’s core now joyfully blown
Dreams of fulfillment finally crowned:
Roll reborn as gleaming trombone!

 

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Knees OK?

Thanks but, they’re mere hinges
Worse though is my mind
bumping on the fringes
To some: too opined

Were it only mind & knees
what a gentle, kindly breeze!

But Life is howlingly intractable
careens oddly, nefariously
Life’s play is but tenuously actable
although sometimes hilariously

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Allure

Her searching glances sweep the room like a lighthouse beam sweeps the dark sea. Precariously contained in a dress much like the walls of a brimming vessel, she is abundant life incarnate. Her long, cast back, blonde hair flows like a ripe wheat field in a fair breeze. Her lightheartedness belies her single minded determination to plumb the depths of every admirer’s promise, courage and enterprise.

She’s wrapped in haute couture
a mere distractive detour
as with purloined demure
she’s all exigent allure

So if you can’t withstand seduction
your fallback may be harm reduction

+)
-harm reduction = a public health strategy that was developed initially for adults for whom additction abstinence does not seem feasible

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My beloved wife, a.k.a. indoor racer

On winged feet our ‘indoor racer’
with wild hair flowing, flying
trajects like gun fireworks tracer
eternally she’s plying

Upwardly, leveling stairs
utensils clattering
all with efficiency’s airs
Bystanders scattering

Smoothly she slides round corners
‘smartphonely’ connected
Past cowering bench warmers
on short cuts perfected

+)
-bench warmers = among those her slacker husband

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Yeah but, I agonized in the fray

“Strip away the trivial and the banal, the empty chatter and foolish obsessions that fill our days” – Chris Hedges

Indulging each bagatelle
welcoming every distraction?
In our games of show-and-tell
we lack reality traction

Why not live to be able to say
when catches us the Grim Reaper:
‘At least I agonized in the fray
make sure to tell the Gate Keeper!’

Rather in ungainly Reality struggle
than vainly in Fantasy trying to snuggle

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Jetting off by plan, yet fretting again?

Decision making worth not one iota
wobbling, am yet again straddling the fence
Long since depleted my green house gas quota
The same old dead end dance: Ambivalence

Why another near speed of sound detour
thirty thousand feet above the ground?
Tell me, what’s conceivably the allure?
In Life where am I really bound?

Am no longer a sightseer
as found the ‘there’ over there
would no more enrich or endear
than does the ‘here’ back home here

So there, er, here!

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Pitshetsh

That P is perpetually the victim
at any time, any situation
declares the non-negotiable dictum
inviolate line of demarcation:

First the P impatiently inspects
and condescendingly dissects
Then emphatically disaffects
and contemptuously reject

Exclaims if offered Perfection:
“A set up, attempted sting!”
triggering instant rejection:
“Don’t offer the perfect thing!”

The P never needs to be coerced
A sneeze? “Call the doctor or nurse!”
Salivating, she expects the worst
So why not just line up the hearse?

But if lined up, of course: “Wrong hearse,
wrong coffin, and who stole my purse?”

+)
P = pitshetsh (Yiddish): chronic complainer

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Rejoice, nothing is amiss!

From our body we may learn
beyond what mere words can express
what our mind may not discern:
To hold on would be to digress

Old age slips of grasp & grip
may only be appearing so
as we do not at all slip:
Just loosening & letting go

No need cower before What’s Next
just stay calm, let’s attempt unvexed!

So rejoice, nothing is amiss:
Aging is indeed the balmy breeze
soon now we’ll bridge that Great Abyss
to swing on Eternity’s trapeze

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Are us humans but programmed fools?

Are us Humans worms in ‘earthly bin’
lacking in context, perspectives
experts only on the ‘mud’ within?
Not sages, at best detectives?

Are we about ‘volition’
conclusively assured
or merely apparition
just anxiously allured?

Is ‘understanding’ a joke cruel
just nothing beyond illusion?
So perhaps I’m but a programmed fool
deeply tangled in confusion?

Still blessed in earthly life when in peace
when restraining ourselves from caprice

 

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Knowing how to but less so why & where to?

Of practical tasks at hand
we’re deftly discerning
thus in impressive command
we keep right on churning

Humans clever on ‘how to’
while on ‘wherefore’ muddled
thus we’re careening askew
solidly befuddled

Soon to become an extirpated race
due to our endless greed & frantic pace