Got to go sometime...

Death hits on the fritz, at my wit’s end,

Same way we’re birthed same way death bangs on the door

In a fleeting solitary moment gone in a blitz

A spin on humanity why we enjoy comedy folklore

Right next door, death knocked on the door

I hear the wife’s wails late that night way past midnight

I let myself in and sat for a while, the police were still there

He lay down after dinner, about 5 p.m., said he needed a nap

And in a snap he was gone gone, gone! Gone baby gone

Early that same morning I heard him vacuuming as I

watched the sun rise against a pink damask sky

No choice when death comes uninvited banging down our door

Write or wrong we’re in this together son

I’m my brother’s keeper but not for long

I see his son Luis is despondent

I say, “I’m sorry for your loss Luis."

He responds, “My father did all that he could to stay healthy,

He kept a good routine, ate breakfast at 5 a.m

went to the Big Gym everyday to lift weights at 6 a.m.,

Everyday he ate dinner at 4 p.m., good healthy food too,

rice and beans, aguacate and Mama made him steak everyday

all that he did and what good did it do him, he’s still dead

all that hard work for nothing.”

Luis has learned a new lesson

A sudden burst of knowledge

Death stalks us all

If you believe in an afterlife or not

I’ll come see you at 3 a.m. night after next

Stomp 3 times and you’ll smell me

There at your side ready at the crack of a whip

Bam your time’s up now son ready or not

There you go and the people who love us are left behind wailing

Wailing for those who left us behind

Wailing for those who left us behind

Death hits the spot, ready or not.

It’s ok I said, I've been there too

I understand where you’re coming from

Just show me the dotted line and

I’ll be ready to sign

I promise I’ll make no demands

For alimony or child support

My life’s worth more than you could ever pay

The gun trained on my face

I heard the click

And saw him pull the trigger back

Imagine the surprise on his face when we

Still stood eye to eye 

the bullet jammed in the chamber

My life handed to me on a silver 

platter that day, I understand now

But for the mercy of God 

I’d be dead not only broke

Lucky not to succumb to a bullet that day

I said, “Show me that dotted line 

I know when it’s time to sign and give in

Because I’ll never get nothing from you 

except a hard way to go

You never liked sharing anyway 

so I’m glad to let you know

I’m glad to see you go

I want you to know 

I’m glad you know 

I don’t need you to have my own

I had my own before you were born

no - please don’t interrupt," I said

holding up my open palm,

"You misunderstand.

I said it's ok. Go with your government job 

and all your big benefits.

It’s ok if you refuse to share.

I swear I don’t care. 

I’ll sign it all away to you

as long as you let me go my own way.

I'll sign that dotted line, 

I swear I will!

I’m not giving in to death yet – 

it’s premature to date.

Please don’t make me 

leave my son motherless

Hand me a pen 

I’m willing ready and able to bend

I’ll sign on that dotted line

I absolve you from all your future debts to me

Please let me go by the grace of God

Thank God I’m not dead 

Here I go, I got a pen in my hand 

I’m ready to sign on that dotted line.”

The surprise registered in your lifted brows

as you pulled the trigger

and stared me dead in the eye

no remorse for what you planned to do

"An eye for an eye," you quoted,

"So bang you’re dead, gone in the wink 

of an eye," and you winked at me.

We thought it was for one last time.

Certainly for me I thought this is the last wink I’ll ever see.

Pulled the trigger in the blink of an eye

A gleeful smile on your “no mercy for the bitch face”

A New York City minute changes life

when you saw no bullet had emerged from the chamber

no bullet came clambering through 

no bullet went through me and 

by the mercy of God I still stand here before thee

So let me be me and I’ll allow you to be free of me

Free from all my demands you could no longer stand 

that made you be so cruel to me

Now I’m ready to sign on the dotted line as long as you’ll let me be

Yes I’m ready to sing there’s a song in my heart

Glory Hallelujah I'm so glad I survived

I'm so blessed to be alive

money ain’t mean nothing to me I’ll give it all up to stay alive

I got a song in my heart so glad to be alive

Big Bad Corn - graphic by Sarah Wenger

Big Bad Corn
Subsidized corn grown for fossil fuel alternative has turned out to be inefficient source of fuel. Not only that, ethanol from corn actually increases the greenhouse gases in the atmosphere at a higher rate than gasoline. Yet, the U.S. pays $10 to $30 billion dollars each years in farm subsidies to raise even more of it, with no clear benefit to consumers.

Will It Ever Stop

Everyone complains when it rains. Rain tantalizes,

fills me with anticipation and gratification,

recognition that redemption is on the horizon.

My soul burns with fire

hit with a live wire until

goose bumps rise on my skin

Wait and watch diamond sparkles water curtains fall

from a vivid bright lit up silver sky

iridescent gray shaded clouds move high

Sitting in a soft luminous green velour parsons chair

watching through my plate glass window

from my 16^th floor perch

Gazing through the sheets of rain

I am transposed to a different time,

Contemplation of gains or losses,

how much garbage can I toss or give away

find people to buy what I can no longer use

I compose a poem and string words along

wonder if I’ll truly belong anywhere or go anyplace ever again

No place to call my own, no home no

Love left me alone again soul searching for diversion

I enter seclusion and decide the rain is nothing but a mist

and the sun has won out

It’s time to get out of the house once more

Tripping The Light Psychosis

I’m going to start writing narrative poetry again because they say they don’t understand my poetry anymore, I’m not writing poems, I’m writing songs. People rarely get me because I’m always so off tune. I heard a few new stories about myself today, so many people telling stories. I wonder why so many stories are untrue and always unkind.

My neighbor said, “Hey let me share what people are saying about you. Many people living here say you’re very unstable, like Ms. Humble on two says this is true about you. I try to explain you’re just a little different, that your mind is very good and it’s not true you’re unstable. I tell them you worked hard all your life so you can collect a pension and how could they think someone unstable could think that one through. I know though, it took a lot of planning and calculation, but they don’t want to hear it.

Their minds are already made up, “Unstable,” you’re labeled. They say you’re really not very sane; you don’t do things the right way. I point out that you’ve been able to thrive, you calculate interventions, and you’re savvy to the system you survived. They see how colorful you are so they judge you by the colors you wear and are blind to your capability. They don’t see you know how to face adversity. They define you as flighty.

They judge you by their own veracity. They can’t see who you really are.

I am tired of this same old story. Well, better stop telling them then I say to my supposed friend. They can’t hear if they refuse to listen.

I’ll always be an outcast. What can I do? I keep making amends and trying to make new friends.

Leave me alone to sing my blues, tone deaf and off tune, alone, singing my blues.

BODY OF EVIDENCE

Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean my fears aren’t real

Fears speak in foreign languages in dark places of my soul

They confide in me tell me where I’ve been and where I’ll go

Beyond my comprehension

Cognizance jells constancy with perceptions and prehension.

In the starry night the sun set forth with glee

Misconceived, under the impression
the sun was there to see

Seen only in one’s heart enjoying ministrations of beauty

Duped by impulsivity trying to capture eternity

Existence of time proceeds, a moment, a year, a decade,
years pass and we’re still here.

Pass like a train in the night.

Several generations away nothing’s left but the mist.

Everything in its time, beginning and end,
true love bereft by death. 

Games played to be won - there are no rules to make the world spin

Dancing in delight in the wan moonlight waiting for a generation of change

to make its way into the light

Beside me stand Jimi, Janis, Billie, Bob Marley, and John F. Kennedy before they were born

We can’t find the light to see the way out of a bad dream a nightmare in reality

Relativity exists the nightmare is as real as the window I gaze through at midnight

Looking for a light a sign that everything’s going to be alright

What is true is a lie

Searching for truth

Secrets overwhelm us

Secrets lie hidden beneath the earth still warm with the regrets of my piss

I have no more left inside that was a lie I scream as my entrails are pulled out

Steam engine losing control seamlessly riding the track

Meant for dancing then changing course before making that last turn

One turn after another wondering what choices were right

What else should we have done? Did we leave any any secret unturned?

Needing release was it left ignored to rot to die with our bodies

An epiphany of infinity a chronological weighing of events adds up to peanuts

Imminence of ends finds not one of us survive forever acceptance of the next rain

Contrives a storm a demise of quintessential gains in a new sunrise