Make it stand out.

Saturday, October 19, 2019

(1)

“ See, there IS a communist deep state...

In Washington, even the trees are Pinkos & REDs!”

(1) these two photos are from the Internet but not from TEDs.

***

In order to have good governance, political change must be accomplished with forethought and certainty. So said a famous doctrine. In accordance, this building will be renamed in a two step process. First, it will be called The Bank of Trump. Then when we get used to that and distracted by other tweets, it will become known as ATM. Automatic Trump Machine. 

***

“The Mexican government thanked me personally for moving their embassy out of a neighborhood with murderers and rapists to within the aura of the greatest Trump palace. You know the one... on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

***

From Abraham-Hicks and The Daily Om

Via Ray, inspiration for this poem:

Don’t control others. 

Control thyself. 

But not too tightly 

During the day or especially at nightly. 

I’m in a fish trap, not a Wolftrap. 

With wounded foot it is gut to be 

Free from thorn’s pain 

Refraining from fixating even on the beauteous rose 

Riding richly each resounding ritual- as well as regularly habitual moments in heavenly shade

Of the heather, heavenly and even heathen glade. 

***

The G7 shouldn’t be at the Doral!

It should be at the Rosy Regal Royal 

Trump Palace. 

That’s the place, said Alice through the looking glass, for crass, despotic kinds of king’s things. 

***

It has not been a fear of death. 

Rather, a fear of life. 

Gathering my own energy

To embrace without embarrassment 

Palace and tenement. 

***

For an atheist avowed 

Somehow god or gods show up a lot

In my waking conscious plots.

Not knotted, no longer!

Suddenly stronger

Sunlit streams, streaming clean line beaming beatific, terrific, friendly friends seeming to deem meaning from these ancient themes. 

Also in my unconscious dreams?

As I age, far from being sufficiently sage 

Though I feel infinitely more safe

I turn to these new pages with hope no longer despair even among a more troubled time as we sit perched on civilizations’ lapse into despotic collapse from which we can cling, decline or with focused energy climb. 

Atheism, spirituality, polytheism and catechism may be interwoven for some. 

In sum, no longer glum 

It is readily apparent the harm and horrid horrors caused by religions

While they all have some good,

They help us each other to be misunderstood. 

***

As I breathe, so I compose. 

God knows 

That’s how it goes. 

In former tones of darkened times 

My depression was caused by 

Bottled up expression. 

Apparently for me it needs to be continuous 

Not necessarily libidinous. 

***

Four stops...

and not one start. 

Traveling on this metro a la carte. 

****

I’ve replaced negative thoughts 

Replete with their shoulds and oughts

With obsessively scrubbing words

Songs without tune for texting fingers. 

Still intrusive ideation doth linger. 

Some of these single sans song singlets 

Are composed chewing chiclets. 

Others of these words are composed for baseball batting bats bantering about bassoon-less bassoons. 

Could I write an ode, an apology to our friends and allies dumpf betrayed?

No words on our part can convey our mismatched dismay that he dumped on former helpers who he stabbed in the back something- his non stop defensive, highly offensive attacks- that something for which he has a preternatural knack. 

Oh wordless words cannot convey the tragedy he dumped on the Kurds. 

***

I’m obsessed

I confessed...

Is OCD 

In my family tree?

***

I’m having a late breakfast with Beth but not in Bethesda or Bucharest. 

I’ll attest to besting my best vacation 

Having debarked at Union Station. 

***

I’m somewhat on vacation 

More would reduce my frustration 

I can’t get myself to completely relax. 

These are the facts. 

Though, you know, being on VACs

Doesn’t mean you totally relax. 

It means you do something different. 

That’s a thing not small. 

Think of the movie Total Recall. 

Friday , October 18, 2019

JZ 49 went for a fine time traveling incognito 

Toe to toe with the best in a motherland fest with festooned Russia platoons

Rode a horse through the Urals into Uzbekistan getting no tan. Arrived at The Black Sea, see he caucused with a Caucasian in Kazakhstan looking for the dope on the pope. Could there be a Holy See around the Vatican’s back door? Still searching for Moors in Spain he circled back to meet her in the Middle East of Eden, as far from Sweden as a heathen grievin’ for innocent kids killed by racist rats uncaged by the great, infinitely wise chosen one who pretends to care. You know, the one with orange hair. 

***

Republicans cheered the latest presidential tax cut. 

But, of course train doors would no longer open nor would they be on time. 

No high crime. Not even a misdemeanor:

Trains nor cities would not be cleaner. 

Nicer not meaner said his apologists. 

If you get their drift and gist, those who complain and are not rich 

Will be sent to a ditch in Syria. 

Avoiding mass hysteria, they’ll be taken at night in silent overseas flights. 

To celebrate, the Shady Grove station 

Will be renamed for the Pres. 

not to be called POTUS Lotus (that’s his massage parlor) but Shady Dealings. 

Get over it, Republicans cheered,

Our wheeling and feelings of superiority 

And ever so self-serving notoriety 

Make our one percent White Wing sorority 

Have noteworthy authority, not to mention that we get to set every greedy, self-serving priority. 

***

Mr. Mulvaney

You could not have said it more plainly. 

Sir, we concur. 

You’re a pro. 

So you know it’s quid quo pro. 

So you then said “We do this all the time. 

Get over it.”

This led to that it

Shouldn’t bother us one little bit but 

Your boss is a nut 

trying to gut our nation from within with the help of husky Ruskies and you, Mick

With your Tricky Dick-like republican walk-back-your-words trick. 

****

If a rabbit swims or bathes

Does she use a towel or a hare drier?

For the opposite of the truth with a hearty dose of folly ask dumpf. 

For he’s a jolly good perpetual liar who’s never stumped 

For a story boasting of false glory. 

If a rat dims hopes of most and many by being a treasonous thief

Plenty is afoul with the liar-in-chief. 

***

Do they play Brahms in Toms River?

Give or take Tōru Takemitsu having tiramisu 

Listening to Rhapsody in Blue winning the prize for bringing Gershwin down to size. 

Lenny was a conductor who composed and played who stayed up late at night. 

With vices did he struggle and eventually lose the fight. 

***

His base doesn’t give a whit

That what their vile and base nitwit hero says 

Makes us less than zero. 

He debases our nation, is totally baseless 

Not to mention tasteless as he leads us down and south with a bad taste in our mouths. 

Though through these baseless lies he tries to stir divisions, multiplying existing problems and fears. 

His base continues mindlessly their infuriating jeers at Democrat values in their groupthink cheer which they hold so dear. Three cheers for Nancy and Schiff... hats off to Mr. Cummings for coming to our rescue... enough of this text to you. 

Thursday, October 17, 2019

I made a concerted effort 

Attending with my wifely consort

To enjoy the concert in a sort 

Not with SQL or on a street named Fell 

But in a simple sort of way 

To hear that orchestra play 

Like hip hop in the car

Without window ajar. 

So far, most difficult was Brahms. 

A meditative technique calms 

But experiencing newer stuff, 

Even bubble gum fluff gives me fewer qualms. 

Familiar music brings up more intrusive ideation. 

Better tuning in to a different stereo station. 

***

Eric said I don’t learn. 

Doth burn my hide. 

I’d say, even Ira took his side. 

My therapists get angry with me. This led to  face burning redundant 

Not necessary, said the pundit. 

Feel free to say what’s on your mind. 

I’m not blind to find a helpful glimmer or three. 

Sima said “Don’t you see, 

You’re a teacher not a musician.”

Time to be a magician- my own best physician. 

Wishin’ to

Disappear not out of fear to die but to 

My let my own creative wisdom fly. 

I try a more productive 

Seductive elective 

A more selective bent 

Not for rent, evaluation and certainly not for hire. 

Thus I return to myself having retired. 

***

Beth doesn’t want me to take more or another med.  

She’s afraid I’d be dead tired 

Mired in sloth but I still feel weird and wired. My general weal and friendliness are at stake.

Make no mistake, I’ve tried many another way. 

Too bad I no longer play. 

Yearning to be freer, be her better husband 

and stand more naturally, not get caught with intrusive thoughts, shoulds and hands off oughts. 

Zoloft may be helping. I imagine if I were not on it, I’d be yelping. ***It’s odd. If I lived in the 1800’s I would have wanted to work on trains so I could be not tied down so much to any one place or monolithic train of thought. I have trained in a number of ways. I’ve even written plays. It’s odd because I could travel now but have not. Still, perhaps I will, with Beth. Do I also want to travel alone?To La côté de Rhône?It’s not odd. Lincoln traveled to Mary Todd. Oh my god!I want to see more than earthen sod. ***How could I be more intelligent?Less belligerent, more present, more prescient, more lenient and compassionate?Fashion it. Able to understand what is going on in more different types of situations, to be able to learn more easily, be more self-reliant-Well, not much of a poem, no denyin’But I’m tryin’. ***Wednesday was fun though no red letter day. I’m guilty for not having helped Danny more. Ok. He answered “K.”Now I can go back to my self-indulgent, navel gazing, self-pity with just a tad of bad feeling. Ha!Lots of ire. Ira has the same dislike of me that Eric, Gid, Andre, Kari, the kids, their parents had. Well not all had bad feelings, not all the time. Though I felt like slime. Self sabotageLooking at girl’s décolletage. My incompetence... ok enough, said Morrie.Sorry but I haven’t had my ten minutes yet. Lest I forget I’ve been in and out of the dumps for hours and days. Call for more or another med?Instead heed the call to head to meditate, exercise, get ahead, or at least out of bed as I did on Wednesday. On Wednesday, it was fun. Now gotta run. ****Worried about Danny. He can be canny. Ran he to work and back?Worrying will give me a heart attack. Not to be flip but on this trip there is little I can do if he won’t pick up text or phone. He is prone to such dark depression. And yes with him I’m enmeshed this time. Wednesday, October 16, 2019I floss at night.I floss in the morn. I floss at lunch. I brush a bunch of times throughout the day. It pays to gargle with a fluoride rinse. Since I don’t want cavities I massage my gums Wear a night guard on my grinding teeth after munchkin on tums. I attack plaque with pique. It is total health dental and otherwise that I seek. Yet my teeth ache this week. ***To undo what dumpf has done We may need to run To war Before Putin puts in place The final pieces of his strategic puzzle. Is it too late before foxholes seal our fate with fake news muzzles?I think not, if the likes of Lindsey Graham Can finally up to that orange man stand for what is right and just. Just as Chinese far from a hoax are reducing gas guzzlers. Think about that irony. What our Manchurian candidate does when he tweets early and late creates a thriller. Unfortunately it’s a real life-killer. The Russian asset in the House White has brought night, at least twilight to the West but if we replace his blight with a reasonable leader with appropriately power and might the righting of our plight Of world order may be within sight. ***Today I’m not composingNot at the computer at least. Creativity finds me having a robust feast. Out of the belly of the beast Away from chaining myself to my desk I’m  happily checking in to a hotel with Beth  Napping like a natty Natalie on the couch with her feet underneath. ****Ideas for my sixth symphony have started to percolate of late in my mind. Am I blind to the fact that no one wants to hear my music?I choose to not lose it. Gee you must have some ego!Nah it’s just that I like to see how it goes. Compose for the medium I know best. This medium for me is a middle path. Doesn’t have to be as great as Grapes of Wrath Though the theme is similar:American Tragedies. In the current situation caused by An americanThinking he is czar. I’m getting ahead of myself too far. He or she or they or them or zee doesn’t need to be an American Presbyterian Or even a clone of FDR. Just a decent sort who can sort out the mess made by those who made America grotesque again in the eyes of all who can see We the People want peace, health, a livable planetNot the destructive actions and consequences of the Orange Comedian who swings off the cuff while other leaders call his bluff. He may not have planned it, to destroy our planet but his enablers effectively table any help to those in need by playing to the worst instincts and fears of a crowd some who guzzle beer. Three cheers for democratic values we hold dear. Oh yes, bless my old soul. All told, as usual I start writing about myself then get sidetracked by the poisonous around us. You can see around us just by looking. You could also read the book. Booking a room at a hotel six Throws yet smother theme into this mix. That book- The Sea Around Us. I read it on a train or a bus Years ago. By Rachel CarsonIf her ego Had been greater could she have had more of an impact positive?Not positive about that, but she was positively a great and prescient writer. We delight in her. Stirred by her plea, her cry for our beloved planet, a bid for a rational appreciation of life on our planetary station- not just one or another warring nation, orbiting third around our sun, in this and every generation. Did Rachel appear on Johnny Carson?Did Art Carney know her work?Did Alsace Lorracians or Turks?Famed individuals of a point in American TimeCertainly not sublime with racial violence enshrined in southern law. From that atrocity we are still raw. Can I atone for my own sins?I don’t need to win, or show. I’ll be happy to place in this horse race. Though that’s not even what I need, want or crave. Just help in a little, small way to help save The day by lightening the loss and load of people beleaguered feeling small, inconsequential made. As for getting my stuff played, reviews and all the restIt’s extra. I just like the process. It’s a little hobbyKeeping me out of the lobby. Lob a little jesting jab at a job well doneTo keep ego in check. At my beck And call are generative ideas Perhaps not great or overly small But from whence they come Is a simple feastA great powerful beast, gently whispering “Here’s the next lovely line, don’t pine, don’t drink wine, no need to lay down depressed,  supine. As it is, no show of a show biz glut of glitz... It’s fine. It’s already OK and fine, as it is.”His, hers or their’s or them’s Ahem, as I said, it would be great if everyone were sufficiently well-fed. The FED can only help so much. If we all go Dutch it might help instead of welfare for the wealthy doled out by the likes of a leader who to dictators acts all kissy. Plying my trade, I bade goodbye to days fanatical, forbidding fabulous, fantastical and especially ephemeral, osteopathic, overly optimistic, tele-journalistic, anti/gravitational orbits astronomical in favor of a modest likable afternoon today and again soon like an unexpected dim sum. Smarter for having waited to speak like one struck dumb. Waiting till I had a crumb Of something to say. It’s word play that makes my day. Like a good steak, make no mistake I’ll take my chances, having learned from mom, a truly wonderful artist To order a la carte it’s best, more of less Less is more. Are you sureAfter these lengthy lines?Written while I dine on a half sandwich which was washed down with winter wine then coffee. Oft I wished to sit thee at the knee Of the great I so pretend on an Artist’ Date. Be pleasantly disconnected, disciplined and friendly to all. Dabble in small doable projects In effect what I can finish In my home town not in travels Scottish or Finnish or in France or Germany. Don’t open cans wormy, walk well don’t slink or worm many ways into a place sunny. Giving thanks that luck has come to me. ***The drizzle isn’t making my libido fizzle. In fact, in this college town, the young women all around make it sizzle. Zoloft is supposed to cool that heat. Would that be a festive or fearsome frightful feat replete with all sorts of saddling side effects?What’s next?***Rage rained down on Achilles. Healed him not even as I turned the page. It started to rain. It happily is pleasantly warm No storm, not even in my brain. Ok, maybe just a little not a lotFor this streak of humor eases the blot, the pain, partly washed away by that rain. I dream of walking through droplets on Walnut and Main. Hop without frets. No guitar needed in this here barTo sing this tuneless song about hopping merrily near and far on my two terrific feet no car is needed at my advanced age As if I learned from a loving toddler how to be sage. I guess this is all the rage. ****Is there any hope for rationalism In the face of world-wide populism?Is there a great and noble super power?Is there a flower among the weeds?Seeding violent hatred and divisive divisionMultiplies problems already existent. Populism is a nice word for ugly, misinformed, terrifyingly horrific bigotry. They don’t see the brainwashing. Washington might have said it will all come out  in washing the cherry tree. But great leader has a slightly different policy On truth. In truth, is this getting long in the tooth?They are frightened, meeting in mass rallies to falsely address global heating Truth in general they devour by the pernicious hourAs long as they’re entertained by reality entertainment The real containment of their best interests is ditched Dunked and dumpfed. Our greatest treasure, our peaceful leadership is dashed beyond decent measure. In one address more vile than the next They with many a risky Rusky troll, elects Aided and abetted by tweets and texts making a dangerous world a work soaked in gasoline. It’s a match made in Hell for hell’s angels sounding a death knell. Yes they address Russian meddling as a Ukrainian mess. It’s all a hoax Chinese even while their beloved leaders plunder them senseless. ****

Looney Rudy refuses to testify. 

Congress can try to try him. 

The chances, given our department of injustice are slim. 

****

Hong Kong, being a democracy doesn’t stand much of a chance of being helped by our great  leader’s kleptocracy and weak-willed double dealing hypocrisy. 

Did Chris Christie say there’s nothing to fear?

Putin might whisper something in dumpf’s ear. 

***

Our supremely wise leader is a generous man. 

He can with one little phone call give gifts all to Russia, isis, turkey and Syria. 

It’s not wisteria or in any way mysterious. 

It’s all part of Putin’s plan. 

It’s not a big deal, not an important thing. 

Great patriotic father- leader just wants to be king. 

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Barr is setting the bar even lower. 

Going slower, a guy can pass the bar without having a drop to drink or without caring what harm his non-thinking hate will cause. 

Gives pause. 

Now racial bigotry. Now anti-atheist- as Paul said if religious bigotry turns out to be a winning strategy (again) then the mustache and hair of a few grew to horrific proportions 

as the leader has graduated from very stabile genius to chosen one to he who is wise beyond any other. His disgust and disguise were really no surprise. A con man, a master salesman who makes the most unscrupulous used car dealer 

seem like a Mother Theresa type healer. 

***

Is it paranoia?

Oh boy, ya 

Got it right. 

The great wise leader, the chosen one, maybe even the king of Israel might disagree calling it fake news. 

Yes he caused the killing of our allies. 

He’s chilling other former allies as they wonder what’s next. His action let isis fighters loose. He gave gifts to Russia, Syria, Isis and Turkey. Did Putin whisper in dumpf’s ear? Or is he just preternaturally jerky?

****

Bassoon is being repaired by a guy with a hitler mustache and hate - oops I meant hair style. Seems like a nice guy who goes the extra mile often sporting an authentic smile. 

So what’s up with that hateful hair?

Is he heir to something aryian?

***

So here I am getting my bassoon fixed. 

Pretty nifty these little tricks of fate 

Of late surprise me when I stay up to wait 

For inspiration does visit with great frequency 

It teaches me more self and other-directed leniency. 

Compassion, in a word, though 

With intrusive thoughts still busting through, oh...

My horn, not fit for hunting, maybe bunting and singles 

Bars go I with Beth having nice dates

On many evenings when we get home before eight. 

****

What no poetic scribbles, as mom might have said if she weren’t dead. 

Oh, how morbid, 

And did I mention how disrespecting?

I’m detecting lots of anger

Did I tell you I used to be my own head banger? 

I sang her a long song but before long she became for forlorn. 

Might have been evening but I think it was morn. 

So who is this she, this her to whom I sang the long sad, plaintive song?

It was mom, many decades ago. One of the few times I sang. Mom was proud of me. 

Though she, and certainly dad, didn’t often say it out loud. 

Monday, October 14, 2019

On awakening thinking of new lines to pen

When I then exercised before the morning wren

Lifted weights, 

had nuts, an apple, a few dates

found those lines had lifted into thin air. 

Felt fit without a care.  

Well not exactly. 

Not exactly care free.

Care free, you’re kidding. Me?

No. No longer need anyone to do my bidding. 

Could I be so for a minute?

Maybe longer if my guilt from it 

calms, melts away, the last Alaskan spring snow to go with the ice shelf dumped into the sea. 

Now there’s urgency. 

****

Humor is my stock in trade. 

My trading stocks has been waylaid. 

****

Will this be bold?

I’m feeling either old or tired. 

It’s not dire. 

After a rest perhaps more bold. 

Or maybe even italics. 

Sunday, October 13, 2019

Beth likes to search for things to do. 

True, she had given me that job.

Not intending to fob or in fact frankly rob her of this pleasure 

She’s finding little treasures. 

In some measure I was resistant. 

She took it over seemingly glad

Better than having had a haddock prepared by old Rupert Murdoch. 

(In whom, around the clock we put little stock.)

So my resistance was met by joy rather than insistence. 

All this time I could have been searching 

Instead of perching 

Poetry prone 

in the living room, all alone. 

****

Again, Beth couldn’t sleep 

Till very late the bleat and beep

Of car horns didn’t help any 

Would an old reel of Jack Benny?

***

****

I sit on the cot. 

Not with wine, beer or pot. 

Meditation brings me back to this spot.  

I’m tranquilized by Zoloft 

So oft, I feel I can heal 

From mental illness

Enjoying the stillness. 

****

I’m worried about my son. 

Though he’s doing much better 

His idea of fun 

Can run him into rum sickness. 

The quickness 

With which

He drinks tequila 

A bottle a week plus wine and cognac 

Is a knack 

I wish he didn’t have 

He needs better salves.