Poems Collection Seven 

Thursday, February 6, 2020

Get a job?

Get a life. 

Don’t pine endlessly for a romantic life with said wife. 

***

Beth feels sick and bad. 

Is Beth also sad?

Is Beth also mad?

Beth is not always sad 😞 or mad 😡 or feeling bad. 

Is Beth now a little drop glad

Or my bad:

Had I interrupted her in her work I had?

***

I can’t afford this. 

I can’t afford that. 

Right off the bat 

This and that attitude unhelpful 

Harmful 

Alarming the boiling 🥵 frog 

Suffocating in post-industrial smog. 

***+

Sugar is sweeteR.

Urgently needed when I am low being a fellA

Going to be mindful like a slow, waiting froG

All mindful of me, the slog and yoU

Rues and rowS!

***

I’m a little bit more tall. 

On this Thursday, I’ve grown a third ball. 

And that’s not all.

I awoke with a solid 

Wanted to share it with my wife. 

Looked over

Her expression said

Not on your life. 

*****

As I have older grown 

to aches and painstaking pains am I prone. 

In this ode to exercise let it be known 

I strengthen and stretch my own. 

Enthusiastically do I moan and groan. 

Wednesday, February 5, 2020

I wouldn’t know an iambic pentameter 

If Demeter herself had blessed my harvest of words and thought served with lamb. 

A lamb quick from god Demeter 

A lamb quick god Demeter 

A lamb quick god Demeter

Is Lamb quick from god Demeter 

Not Iambic pentameter?

I wouldn’t know. 

**

A lack and alas 

I fall behind my class

Straining slack jawed my back to the wall 

All struggle with pain writing a very poor excuse for a quatrain about neither mice nor moose. 

***

Connecting with Julie has taken my inspiration to another level. 

Like leavening for Matzoh 

Gots a

Thing unneeded 

Some dough is meant to be kneaded. 

Other dough 

Though 

Not a surprise 

is not meant to rise. 

****

Meter and rhyme 

Rhythm worth a dime

If diamonds are forever

And I’m a bit clever 

Invest in gold?

****

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. 

Gee I thought it was a puppy. 

****

Sweet Betsy from Pike 

Put her finger in the dike. 

The waters they hiked 

Over the top of that damn dam

In storm surge spikes. 

****

Spent a big spender with elastic suspenders. 

*****

Connecting with people relieves my self-directed hate 

This was not always the case.

It is of late. 

****+

Back from mental fuzz-dom

Where I unconsciously hurt myself some

A frequently frequented kingdom 

To which I too often come. 

No, not for dim sum 

In sum 

Some ways ordinary yet not ho-hum. 

No longer glum 

No longer deprecated, depleted, defeated and defecated 

No longer feeling like a worthless bum 

Not even a little bit like pond scum

Partly thanks to reconnecting with an old chum. 

True not yet back to humming 

But good enough 

Said Boris. 

****

It hardly hurts a bit. 

Yet I feel like shiitake

Mushrooming despair. 

****

Thirty thousand down 

More 

Just today. 

I’m obsessed with this meaninglessness. 

I avoid my relationship with Beth. 

***

Sometimes, most times when I traded 

I trusted myself. 

Does the increase in therapy have something to do with increased self-hatred and out of control behavior?

Be my own savior. 

I’ve seen this dependency pattern before 

With Sima and Eric, I sometimes felt I couldn’t get off the floor without their permission or approval. 

With Sima the right answer to demonstrate my  

Effort to attain humility was

“I’m struggling.”

Said with a weak smile. 

I wish instead 

Of false pious humility 

I had developed more abilities. 

*****

My impulsive large losses in trading feel like an unconscious attack on myself. 

I’m not from Gondal

I’m not a G.E.L.F.

I was feeling too good. 

Better than I should. 

***

You make a mistake 

Move on.

But upon this morn 

I’m full of self-directed scorn. 

I’m forlorn

Sure as I was born. 

^^**

Yes, impulse control 

Especially now that I’m getting old 

Be less outwardly bold

All told keep my own council 

Am I capable?

At the moment what is inescapable is that I messed up and am struggling to maintain self-compassion. 

Easier to be a martyr like St. Sebastian. 

****

The poems did not help me with impulse control. 

On the other hand 

By not panicking tonight 

I embody the serenity prayer 

to accept the things I cannot change

Courage to change the things I can 

And wisdom to know the difference.

***

Why so light?

I do have fright 

The trend is your friend. 

Except when it isn’t. 

****

Glad I can joke 

When today’s reckless trades 

May have set me back months or a year. 

Oh dear. 

But I’m not yet broke. 

And...

****

I’m looking forward to leaving early tomorrow. 

Though there might be considerable sorrow 

From my reckless trading 

I did not need Beth or anyone else to punish me. 

That’s worth a lot. 

But I thought you said there were no lots?!

Your call. 

My option to put it to bed. 

Tuesday, February 4, 202

From on high 

In air 

rarified perfect pure azure sky

Why did she deign to look down at the schlump of a clown flattened in the mud on the filthy ground grieving for his blackened renown?

True at the time I was a good looking guy. 

And true enough too 

She helps me with maintenance of my unrelenting standards too

As all good roommates and cousins should do. 

****

More happy energy today 

Than in days or weeks. 

Speaks to a combo 

Of getting out the house earlier 

(Feeling burlier, worldlier, younger like a courtly courtier)

And lots of sugar 🍰 donuts 🍩 

And lots of self compassion 

Confidence returning in spades

Jacks, queens, Kong’s Kings 

These are just a few of my favorite 

Birdsongs on wings.

****

Social Anxiety 

Not Notoriety 

uncanny. 

Beth is upset with Danny. 

Taking stock 

Did I put my head on the block 

To divert her irritation?

This flirtation with mom and dad had

Been glad to revise 

No surprise 

My early history- more than a reiteration. 

It’s accompanied now by recognition 

Soon after the fact. 

Soon I’ll notice it sooner

then catch myself and stop. 

Eventually I’ll lick this compulsion. 

I’m hopeful, healthy and yes sufficiently wealthy. 

Now get more wise to my self 

Be less unconsciously stealthy. 

****

Sugar!

“Oh sugar!”

My huge sweet breakfast covered my low blood sugar

And then some. 

I’ll take three units and check when home I come. 

True I nay not have lunch. 

So calorie-wise I’m ok. 

I’m ok 

Sugar!

You’re ok!

My blood sugar!

Poof!

Monday, February 3, 2020

***

I got scared last week.

Last week I got scared 😱 

In my losing streak. 

I put myself down. 

Ay, ay and ahoy 

At first didn’t frown, my boy. 

I worked in haste and greed 

This speed masking a deeper 

Unrecognized need 

To stop 🛑 stop ✋ and breathe. 

Made more mistakes 

Mistakes multiplying 

Inflated, convinced of my own brilliance

Strategies flying

Brain frying 

Trying, over-trying 

Everything seemed wrong. 

Yet part of me thought he knew better and best 

Fools rush in 

fools rush out. 

How about relying on calm 

Quiet deliberation?

Working in unconscious desperation

In masochistic elation 

Putting people on pedestals 

Getting angrier still

Was it envy stoking the fire 🔥 

This dire fire of despair 

Where oh where did this flare 

Originate?

Baiting me to braggadocio 

Which oh so turns people off. 

Off with my head?

Well I lost it again as I went ahead 

And head to head with a part of me unfeeling 

For feeling was dead. 

Red in the face, I needed help. 

Becoming a G.E.L.F. from Gondel

An Indian genetically engineered life form. 

My norm 

More desperate 

More speedy 

More speed 

More greed, speed and conviction 

Escalating commitment to a decision

Deriding common sense 

What?!!!

And all for tuppence?

Really what is the logic?

Where was my sense?

With all this speedy, grand, grandiose Grecian god-like insensitivity and greed

Where

and was there any urgent need?

No. 

No need whatsoever. 

Ha. 

And I felt ever so clever. 

Addicted to drama 

Deaf to the Dharma. 

In my childhood of course

That’s where my compulsion to show off started when parents seemed to have departed to their own internal place

I felt invisible in the face 

of silence unless performing as the circus seal of approval 

The removal of this compulsive compulsion would be good. 

Good?

A small, slight understatement

Unless I’ve grotesquely misunderstood. 

What could I invent 

To have lent my infant self a life-raft?

A compassionate mirroring

A hug, a receptive ear. 

Oh dear is it too late for this compassion to appear?

Not at five to four on the trading floor of my humble homemade proxy of a bourse 

More violent thoughts occurred of-course. 

Mind mixed, stirred 

Lines crossed, blurred

Repeating the cycle till 

Becoming like an earlier, pained, suffering Michael, inflated/ deflated in rapidly rotating concentric circles of hell this was just the entrance to purgatory and me 

already a screaming mini Mimi. 

A reaction to the positive truth and traction of my happy youth (the previous day)

I would be grateful to learn 

To take away from this mini panic 

An organic extra capacity to experience happiness and tranquil inaction. 

From that truth and traction

Let the faction with a fraction more wisdom 

Lead... lessening intensity letting it all go as the flow of whatever comes next is the next thing to observe and intuitively know. 

****

Resilience 

Is brilliance. 

***

I am a camel. 

I’m a camel

Freed from straws for so long

That when they drop on my back 

I react like a parody of a paranoid under attack. 

Those long lost straws lost long ago 

Go to show a resentment for straw 

Ain’t nothing a little guffaw 

Won’t fix the thing stuck in my craw. 

So those straws ere long 

I feel

They

Do not belong!

Not only do they not belong 

But before very long 

In this neat little literary song

I will grow quietly strong 

So strong!

Strong enough to rebuff the last straw. 

Gives something to chew on, gnaw. 

Naw, you think?

No chew..

With teeth of strong enamel 

I’m a comeback camel. 

The wisdom of a Genius Bar panel 

A solid, sleek physique 

And the star peak, so to speak 

Expressing myself in ways Seussian and a little bit unique. 

***

And now!

The antidote 

From Dr. Amy, I do quote:

“May your straws turn to dust before they hit your back. New mantra--pouf!”

*****

Humor is my saving grace. 

From my dismal abysmal space

Helping me do a sunny 😎 roundabout and somewhat funny about-face. 

****

When I put people on pedestals 

As is my habituals

Though not swell 

The gloomy gloom glams and gloms 

Stealing all light in its swelling 

There’s no telling 

How yucky it will 

Get if I’m unlucky 

And in the head not the most well

Not fit as a bell

Curve 

At these moments I feel I deserve 

If I don’t perfectly perform and behave 

That I should dig my own grave. 

Well, that’s pretty dark, cognitively distorted 

And downhill. 

Use the momentum to ascend the next road out of being a grumpy 😡 old pill. 

****

Though Ira offered that it is not his place to be sarcastic 

He was playful, not bombastic. 

I would like next time to be more flexible, more elastic

Instead of taking it like a zinger 

Reflexively giving him the finger. 

Sunday, February 2, 2020

I was a more mature Ken 

Even when formerly 

I might have feared abnormally 

Over formally

Undoubtedly have misunderstood 

The good for the not so 

Gotten stuck on an unimportant detail 

I was more myself 

All I can ask

Is to appropriately 

Gradually 

It begs and asks 

Sans flak or flasks

To be brightly brought 

To bigger tasks. 

****

So alcohol in small doses is a stimulating stimulant. 

Simultaneously making some belligerent. 

****

Elephants can only go so far. 

It’s fair to say and par

For the course 

Horse power is a plus

If you must 

After all 

It’s an order pretty darn tall

To see one driving a small car 

or go far in any old car- 🚘 🚙 🚗 no matter what size even if larger by far than small

no matter winter, summer spring or autumn. 

Yes elephants are strong, lovable

They never forget 

To head together in a herd 

(Ever heard of an elephant star?)

Elephants can only go so far

For you never see one driving a car. 

***

If I didn’t sell myself short 

My dignity abort 

Yes 

If I didn’t sell myself short 

I’d have a shot at being a

A hit, a hot shot 

Not aborted, not neither down shot nor shorted 

Neither yelling nor snorted 

I’d have that shot at being a hit as hot as any on the court 

As any...

As any...

...in my cohort. 

****

🇪🇸

Beth is a little stoic. 

She doesn’t feel it’s heroic

You could say we’ve gone in different directions...

I like confections. 

****

Disease du jour?

Can’t be sure. 

What’s more 

The opposite of astute 

To love a prostitute. 

Strong, sexy, survivor, cute 

Tina Turned herself around 

Earned a bit

Asking 

What’s love got to do with it?

****

Chantal Monster 

A monster not stir crazy far from lazy 

This friendly monster 

Stirs and stimulates 

My frontal 

And prefrontal 

Lobe.

Saturday, February 1, 2020

What does Chantal see that I didn’t see myself?

In Michael, Patrick, Simon, Lisa, Deb and Chantal herself, even Ira 

success and letting go of their painful past is more apparent consistently than for themselves or for me about me. 

***

Zoloft hasn’t sped up my mind. 

It has made my mind focused 

Not blind fixated focus 

Less on hocus pocus

More on the locus of now. 

Now how to stop when not engaged?

Not the right question. 

My suggestion:

To cease being upstaged, hence enraged simply be often the listener, observing and always engaged

Loving not hating. 

Be the frog patiently waiting. 

****

“I think, therefore I drink.”

Descartes?

Not a starry eyed original. 

Well that’s not a sin substantial. 

***

Go, oh the places you don’t yet know. 

Get in the car

No need to be an angry 😡 black hole 🕳 of a Star 💫 burning 🌟. 

***

Get on with your life 

With son, friends, relatives, especially wife. 

****

Got off the couch. 

Now to the office of the couch counselor

Until he too I bore. 

What was that that I just heard?

My word!

Was what I just heard 

A sonorous snore?

***

Weird phone?

If your phone is so prone 

Apple’s new ihome 

200 milligrams per day

Will repair and make all apps including iTunes play. 

****

My body is slow

My head races ahead

With the last traces 

Of the tequila and java 

Not having a good time in this cava. 

Instead of the Red

For my speedy head overly fast and overly full

I’ll invent baby blue bull. 

****

Connected to that powerful creative source 

Maybe I’m Krishna or a god of the Norse. 

Where are my anti-psychotic meds?

Instead I’ll write it out 

Alone in bed. 

****

Weird BG

I do it myself 

To me. 

***

I’m tired 

I’m sick 

On myself 

I played another dirty rotten trick. 

Fix myself 

Resilient like Michael I am 

***

My bigger, expanded, deepened emotional range 

Is fact 

So why drink?

For inspiration?

Not really. 

To deaden existential or physical pain?

Not in the main. 

So why?

It’s because I’ve gotten lazy. 

No longer feel continually compelled to try

To be better than I am. 

Really?

Could have fooled me. 

Being less compulsively OCD 

Feels like I have insufficient motivation 

To do my daily ration 

Of chores. 

It’s not that I don’t care and am less of bit of a self-aggrandizing bore. 

Sometimes 

For sure 

It’s a work in progress. 

Despite the mess 

All the crummy dummies and dumb 

stupidity and then some 

I’m plenty optimistic

Less masochist 

Less sadistic 

Not even sure that I was 

Just misunderstood masking myself in walls

Those walls put off one and all. 

****

The main reason among many that Beth I love 💗 ❤️ 💕 

A top and all others and above 

Is that she helps me be more me

Being that she’s free

Of a need for me to be

Something I’m not 

Haven’t got or can’t get 

She’ll my beard 🧔 occasionally pet 

But it’s my continual growth 

No, not on my face 

That with which she helps me rejoin the human race.

***

I wanted to join AA

They wouldn’t let me play 

I’m technically not an alcoholic 

Pretend as I may. 

***

Less compulsion 

Less from Eden expulsion 

An explosion of creativity 

In my self-perpetuated captivity 

Yes less compulsive compulsion 

To drink this, that or the other colorful emulsion. 

****

Harm reduction 

Is a function 

Of foundational life fulfilling 

Not glass refilling. 

***

To sleep 

To snooze. 

Aye, there’s the tub 

of gin. 

Marzipan makes me grin but not thin. 

Then if you so choose

There’s what Ogden notes 

Floats my boat 🚣‍♀️ 

On which note I wrote 

A top and afore

To sleep

To snore 

Like a babe 

Ever so pure 

And no more 

Feel the compulsion 

To imbibe or subscribe shouting obscene diatribes

Reduction of harm from two drinks to one 

A Behevioral approach 

Yes that’s the ticket.

In the thicket of habitual self-inflicted pain

Last night I refrained 

From that second glass.

Still could not sleep

For I messed up my BG. 

To sleep 

To snooze. 

Aye, there’s the rub

Because I still choose to 

Drink the milk of the bar maid’s booze. 

***

Her name is Felisa not Mother Teresa. 

(Not hard to tell 

I put people on pedestals.)

Both are good souls 

One more ancient

The other infinitely less old. 

Felisa is a good mom 

Hard working, dedicated, caring, strong, compassionate, self-disciplined all along. 

She’s gentle and full of love 

Above all

A thing huge not small. 

Smart, sexy, forever young and to boot

She’s pretty and cute. 

****

Hi Julie 

Thanks for the information 

Looks cool 

Great that it’s free. 

But Julie

Not for me. 

About the invitation to the workshops

I work non—stop 

Not to be a better writer

Not to be a writer with a capital W

True I love to write all night 

All day

It is this creative, un-self-conscious play 

Which makes my petty pain go far, far away. 

So I stay the course with less social intercourses at schools 

For they trigger my ruminating thoughts 

Sending me into paroxysms of tailspin 

Depression feeling the abyss 

The full-weighted, self-deflated pull

The elixir of spiritual death foreordained

Endlessly rehearsed worthlessness 

This always available mirthless 

Ash heap 

A pyre 

Extinguishing all passion and fire. 

Oh how overly dramatic and dire. 

Yet...

The thought of even a tiny bit 

More education makes me want to quit 

It makes me want to bang my head on the wall. 

I’m content with my abilities however small. 

Having less than no need to compete with Walt Whitman at all. 

I seek no Buddhas nor gurus 

And especially 

Seek no John Sununus

Who would deny out of habit

Changes in my internal climate. 

****

Julie, Julie, Julie

You truly hit the head on the nail. 

In my small snail mail garbage pail 

I sent sailing some, a lot actually 

Of my earlier work. 

It wasn’t love actually. 

Actually, matter of factually it was just plain 

Stupid...

Stupid, painfully 

Eventually self-reinforcing 

self-denigrating

Internalized self-hating. 

****

Is it the coffee or the booze 

Making it hard to go to snooze?

****

Oh Chantal 

Now that we’ve conferred 

It’s apparent you’ve stirred 

My frontal and pre-frontal 

In ways more pleasant 

Than a present given to a happy pheasant. 

***

The original version said 

My pre-frontal lobotomy 

Is even worse than sodium Pentothal 

Used for gaslighting mental sodomy. 

Well, it went something like that. 

Friday, January 31, 2020

Chantal Monster

Is a playful sort 

with naught amiss. 

A Miss America smile as brilliant as her clever retorts

Did I mention her 

Rapid-fire comprehension?

I had a little apprehension 

About writing this ditty

For the witty Moth writer 

Erstwhile dancer/scientist 

Marketing exec. 

What did you expect?

***

Chantal Monster 

Here’s another take. 

We can all a scary face make. 

And we can always make a case for that face in place of equanimity much less subliminal sublimity. 

Make no mistake 

Not only a put-on fake 

But needed sometimes to show 

a little bit of that monster in tow

Let it out, shine, glow. 

A healthy little monster doth grow 

Green, purple all colors and so...

So let that growing, glowing, gloriously powerful, beautiful monster be who she will 

Till the world knows not to tread on your pretty bailarina head. 

Instead they should go bother somebody else. 

Use your powers monstrous 

For your good and for all of us. 

****

Take three. 

The first time I saw Chantal Monster was not on an escalator. 

It was on the down elevator. 

I had a slight fright that night on the non-freight elevator 

For a second I was startled, afraid of her. 

All in good fun. 

It was I who coined the term 

Describing what might be hidden off to my left. 

Chantal left, went into a store before the rest of us walked south. 

Was there a goodbye, a good night or anything else out of her lovely mouth?

Was she hiding?

I can abide that but why?

Is this young monster shy?

No.

She’s with another guy. 

I’m married 

A little harried but par for the course. 

No need for divorce. 

****

Danny has good news. 

That makes my blues

Go away. 

****

I’m sorry. 

I’m very sorry. 

I’m regressed climbing out of a mess at a table writing a fable 

About an elevator in a whore house stable. 

It has its ups and downs. 

An old joke 

Of which I spoke. 

Coke would not calm me or make me woke. 

If I’m able to stand after drinking my fill

And don’t spill while I swill 

You can tell it was swell. 

****

Cuter. 

Neat-o-guy. 

You’re so lovable. 

Chantal Monster 

****

Now I feel bad about my trading losses today. 

Now I feel bad about showing off. 

Now I feel bad. 

***

I’ve often thought about becoming an alcoholic. 

Maybe AA has a training group. 

****

I went to a special session for alcohol writers. 

We pulled an all-nighter. 

True by the dawn’s early night I felt lighter 

There had been intense literary fights 

But it might have been the book they said we must discuss

I feel a real

Connecting connection with the spiel a

Guy reeled off 

The real deal of that book which to us appeals 

In my poem slightly absurd 

Praising the appeal a real deal spiel a

Taquilla Mockingbird. 

****

****

Oh Bill!

You are a man of many a skill. 

It was a thrill to hear, see, experience 

the professionalism of the student musicians you taught. 

I seek and sought to emulate your caring compassion. 

And after a fashion and despite my praise and admiration 

There were times I was both angry and disrespectful 

A full range from rage to putting you on the pedestal of a sage 

Boss, colleague, friend 

Slightly older brother 

You are another fellow traveler 

More self controlled, focused 

Still and always searching

A Venn diagram shows overlap between all of us- Eli, Heidi, Tom, Laura too

For all humanity is kindred kin 

Through thick and thin 

Maybe I only came to feel this through 

After having had more than one brew. 

Time has been kind to me 

So to reconnect I send this little message of admiration and contrition for your contribution 

Offered not only lots of work but solutions 

Suggestions many of which I took to heart. 

I already worked hard and ate my Wheaties

But with uncontrolled diabetes 

I made a montage of self-sabotage 

I said and did stupid things

Which brings me to my next point. 

Certainly more than a good start 

There is one you gave ever so gently 

Saying I was “Of all the faculty, the only one you worried about.”

In my uptight, defensive, vagueness I needed

To hear and heed it in slightly more directive terms

I was so stuck, mired in my own muck 

Letting life and work suck all the joy 

From family, friends, even the love of wife and our boy. 

Would I have been annoyed?

Would my career have been save or destroyed

If you had employed stronger language from which I could not duck?

Would I have upchucked?

Would I have said “aw shucks?”

Would I have called you a schmuck?

Would I have girded my loins 

Purloining-stealing away to play in a band 

Could I have tolerated, stand 

That stronger phrased than wishing me goodbye and good luck?

Not sure no matter what you might have advised 

That I was at the time sufficiently wise 

You might have said 

Ken, try this on for size 

To be sure 

It would have been a surprise 

No lies

Yet your caring words have stuck 

You had not snuck up

Yes if you had said 

“Buddy 

I know you continually study 

But for your own good, and those all around including me

I wish you more than good luck

Good health, less stealth 

Have truck with yourself 

From a Psychiatrist’s couch 

I will no longer mince words carefully couching my coaching. 

So with these final words 

Yes, good luck having self truck 

No you’re not a slick schmuck

But these words in your mind prominently place and tuck

Will you please get some serious help before 

Everything you up fuck. 

***

Why the flag of Spain?

A hashtag from which to refrain?

In the main 

A culture intriguing 

Beleaguered and believing

All of my bereaving 

Has come into balance 

Yet as with all 

there is stuff to disdain. 

Plain to see and say

Except with my defensiveness 

About Israel. 

****

Something has changed. 

I’m less strange 

Both at home and as I roam the world wide range. 

🇪🇸****

I never thought I’d have such a cool son. 

Often I’ve had this pleasant thought. 

Today I shared it with Dan 

To my delighted surprise 

My wise young man 👨 

Replied 

It cannot be denied 

I always knew I had a cool dad. 

As an after thought 

He said simply 

You are cool. 

****

Not a poem in sight 

Neither last night 

Not yesterday morn. 

Was torn up about Mike

Revisiting that school 

An unpleasant dream

It now seems 

Zoloft has indeed 

Planted new positives seeds. 

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

Go to sleep. 

Don’t try to be a VEEP. 

****

I’m too hot. 

Not temperature 

Got my mature mind racing sure. 

Try pacing?

***

I’m desperate 

For an audience. 

So, do open mic. 

I’m stuck still riding my trike. 

Stuck behind that nighttime bus. 

When I finish a working draft of symphony 

Number six

I’ll see then what needs to be done or fixed. 

***

Another good day.

Beat the S&P again. 

Yes, I’ve learned something- sufficient for now 

About how to hedge. 

Doesn’t make sense intellectually this hedge 

So won’t bother to dwell or dredge it up. 

Yup. 

More than a pledge. 

Effectively to hedge perfectly 

You’d go nowhere fast. 

At last and at least for now 

Holy cow!

I’m growing faster. 

A little up on up days.

A little up or little change on down days. 

I used to think you’d have to do options 

Or complex triples 

Or other things I don’t understand 

And no, I don’t have to like Paul Rand or conduct concert band

Having discovered other options 

A lazy pun

To amaze, stupefy with stunts might be fun for some...

Profits are better. 

****

Ira chose the group well. 

Well then 

Why Lisa more than the others?

Michael and I are like brothers. 

Patrick and I have that off and on again feeling of worthlessness 

My anger closer to the surface 

Suffice to say 

Michael gets in his own way with 

this mess as well 

Deb will tell of an endless well not of wellness but illnesses

She’s honestly and honorably vulnerable 

Simon is able to make films 

He tells us the film isn’t going anywhere 

As you can tell 

I care for them all

My new friends one and all

Tall and small 

All family of a sort. 

Like the sport of one hand clapping 

Good to hear Chantal 

Neither student, niece, daughter 

Smile. 

***

Hyper

Speedy

Needy?

Less so

Growing in skill 

Willingly thrill 

Throwing the discus disk 

Tolerating more risk. 

***

Dancing 

Singing 

Storytelling......

...

S

I

L

E

N

C

E

Tuesday, January 28, 2020

With Mike 

I was too opinionated 

Without sufficient facts. 

If I do this again 

I must prepare 

****

When we wed 

I was vague

Happily disconnected like my mother 

But oh brother 

I chose another. 

****

Is it more meditation 

More meds

Earlier to bed

Be more well-read

More exercise just not for my head?

Do something different instead. 

***

So a good day. 

Again I made good money. 

Again I composed and edited 

I’m still fed up with the wall between me and my honey. 

****

To Beth my smile is chalk on chalkboard. 

How untoward.

Be assured 

All this time, these years, many a decade

The effort I’ve made 

Was no charade 

That parade. 

I should have it made in the shade

My wifely date, my lifetime babe bade me buy 

To try a different affect 

One that doesn’t negatively affect. 

***

A poem for Tuesday. 

Whose Tuesday is it anyway?

Away, away. 

Wash, wash away

So it stays away 

Signs of the perfidious evil 

Known as Don the J. daredevil 

In the din

the don cons the neocons. 

Monday, January 27, 2020

Why so obsessive?

Why a violent dream?

It’s just a🇸🇿🇸🇪dream. 

That wiley-wise just so fine Ira line 

makes me smile

A while. 

Apply it to other thoughts

I ought. 

****

I crave an audience. 

Try open mic. 

Might meet some nice, pretty ladies who turn out to not like to lick a problem 

kick around a few tricks 

***

Dicks and dykes 

Don’t deliver a meeting of the mindset high ground 

Go to sleep, you old hound. 

This is not profound. 

****

Can’t wait to see what the morrow will bring. 

Tingling, up to the challenge 

Said J.D. Salinger 

When the idea caught his eye 

To write about small fry in the Rye

Problems universal 

We should mention 

Unwanted attention 

Became a recluse. 

I not only have no such excuse 

But happily, eagerly await turning myself a little bit loose. 

****

Happy with my trading 

And investing 

And hedging 

And learning 

Not only in trading 

Fears fading. 

****

Is there a way to be well-hedged

And not lose my edge?

When markets rise 

It’s no surprise 

I’m over-cautious 

Or over impulsive 

The result misses the biggest boat 

But I still make money 💰 

Not just on the float. 

****

No need to hold fast to feelings of inadequacy 

See

I beat the S&P 

Again 

As I tend to when markets are down. 

When they’re up, 

I’m too hedged with defensive positions. 

Less contrition though 

For I know I’ve done ✅ ok rising riches 

With less glitches 

Than in the past 

So I can learn 

To earn enough at long last. 

****

Hey!

Crazy 

A full wonderful day 

Still anger and paranoia at play. 

***

Latoya looks too much like brother Michael 

And sister Janet

Though Michael looked more like he was from another planet. 

****

Dive bars

Are where

The alcoholics are. 

****

Michael, here’s something to file

Along with your winning smile. 

😽😽😽😽

When ruled by ruffling feathers, untethered 

A camel’s last straw stoking, provoking 

Billows of bile

Raising hackles 

You smile through bits of anger

Bites of rage not completely metabolized nor hidden 

By years since the original outrage. 

I know only too well why

To dial back the intensity blackening the internal sky 🌭

Makes us on some level hurting angry guys

As much as we try to quell the well of subterranean volcanoes 

Who knows

The specifics of what to you befell 

Vastly different 🥬🇦🇩🇦🇲

Be not indifferent 

To the fact that 

You do fine. 

***

Patrick looks much happier 

Snappier 

Of good cheer 

Is it his cherished career?

***

Oh Simon of good cheer 

Do you drink British beer?

Have less fear 

The coast is clear. 

Do you steer clear of Ira as a therapist 

Because of your trust, perhaps a twisted trust in your tryst?

“What tryst is that?” you surprisedly ask.

I must refer not to the ambrosia we get in bottles or glass. 

Fast forward in your film reel 

In real time

To my winding, circuitous spiel. 

No big deal. 

The help in front of us 

Will not push us under a bus. 

In relative worth, it hardly costs a dime. 

“Fine,” say you, “Please get to the point 

Afore my nose gets out of joint.”

“Ok, I say, I pray you reconsider 

Ira as a therapist 

Instead of that periodic tryst 

Are you suspecting he may bug you?

Bug you to shrug off the hugging embrace 

You use to face your music 

That you would finally find your pent up rage 

If you let that hurting, suffering beast out of the cage?

We are all defensive 

Pensive in ways self limiting and self-offensive 

Often our cage has walls of auto-immune psycholgical macrophage. 

This plague for you 

Might it be true 

Might have something to do with 

Being bugged that he’ll bug you 

To give up on the other drugs you do.

***

If Ira valued himself more 

He’d charge more 

Unless he doesn’t need more money to buy more things at the store. 

For I’m pretty sure he doesn’t vape

But could get into better shape

Unless his wife likes him just the way he is. 

If Ira valued himself more

He’d tell me to mind my own biz. 

****

Michael’s anger took me aback. 

In fact I’m not sure I handled it well. 

Might have been swell to wise-crack

When feeling under attack. 

I gave in to his point of view more quickly than If I were on solid ground but having compounded my confounded response 

Too hastily made in a nonce 

Such nonsense 

I would have preferred

The feeling to percolate and stir

Wait for the overhead blur to lift from my over-acquiescent head 

Till something truly needed to be said. 

*****

Chantal is not my daughter. 

I laud and applaud her curiosity and determination 

To rise above a static situation. 

She’s a dreamer, a writer, a thinker, insightful, sensitive. 

Gentle, playful, natural Chantal is an artist, an intellect, authentic and athletic, spontaneous, funny. 

Sunny when tears clear. 

What happened in high school and/ or college to fund her fountain of fear?

Chantal, you will find again your wisest self. 

She is nearby 

No need...

To overly try. 

Thursday, January 23, 2020

Hernandez doesn’t see much if any change in me since Zoloft. 

Oft Beth feels I am like a different person. 

If this question you’re rehearsing 

And to know you are keen 

Truth be seen 

Is somewhere in-between. 

*****

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

My life is rich. 

Switch off the nightlife switch which throws Night into black pitch 

Perfect pitch 

Pitch perfect 

Pitchers of water 

Pictures of portraits 

George Washington Carver 

A start from a golden star starter. 

Smarter

Dream of productive barter. 

****

Sleep

For the morrow is new. 

Sleep so 

True how often I fidget, forget

Not let another whet

Appetites 

Bits and bytes 

Right mind 

Right compassion day, night

Lightly let go

Appropriately so 

sprightly or slow 

No need to grow 

For I am ok with what I already know 

Yet grow and change will bring

Many an unsuspected thing

Rings 

A tryst with the true. 

Brings nature on fleeting wing as winds blew 

To sing of skies so clear 

Less gripping 

Less paralyzing

Less over-analyzing 

Less sizing up 

Less judgement 

More contentment 

Steering so clear of pitfalls feared

Nearer, ever clearer this morrow so new. 

****

Uptightness forged from compulsive show

Wounded, frightened, paralyzed, mummified  infant self into a semi-conscious 

Demi-hemi-semi delusional with wishful unblinking magical thinking 

(That was before I started drinking.)

I am not a fish out of water

Neither drawn nor quartered 

Not a fragile dish from China nor 

Less nor more refined from Delft. 

Uptightness yields to lightness 

Brightness returns after many a beer. 

Here! Hear!

Weary from its many testy, teary years

Seeking seers only 

To fund and find what was already in my mind. 

****

As noted before 

What Thursdays have in store 

Is a tendency for depression 

From Wednesday’s drinking session. 

Egged on by hangover 

Moreover I already feel

The room spins gently on wheels unreal. 

With knowledge 

(Better if learned in college)

Curious to see 

How tomorrow will be. 

****

It was a great day. 

I’m writing this out of sequence 

So I’ll see the result of the previous poem

Powerful 

Wow

Zowie 

And 

How!

****

The gangsters are in charge. 

Mortgaging our future to our children’s charge card. 

You have to give them credit for their deceitful debits. 

What can I do to enlarge the sphere of the good?

It will and should 

involve getting out of my confortable, provincial neighborhood. 

****

Can I hold my own in a hostile world?

Flagging not 

Flag unfurled

Maybe a point moot. 

If my nose doesn’t get out of joint 

Appoint my Captain, General or Sarge 

My better self in charge 

Forage for courage at Valley Forge 

From good old George 

Don’t dwell in dumpf’s dumps. 

He’ll eventually get his richly deserved lumps. 

Even the confederate who fired in Fort Sumpter starting the Civil War 

Who tirelessly tore brother from another 

Murdering mothers, families in the pursuit of maintaining the evils of slavery 

For the rich 

Which saw themselves as entitled to unpaid labor gave a sickening foxian flavor to the stench of blood on the hands of plantation owners bands of self-righteous 

Knights of inhuman aggression foreshadowing 

White supremacy 

Lacking the most basic decency. 

Unfortunately we see this also 

With alarming frequency. 

***

Being more helpful at large and small 

And all things needing tending, recall

My intention

Helping one and all. 

****

My tongue hangs out craving sweets

Among the treats I find neat 

Are gente life lessons 

Ira gives me as feedback from our group sessions. 

*****

At this or any juncture 

Have no compunction, fear not really Royal tears. 

Reality can no longer puncture the conjoining conjunction of my disparate functions. 

*****

The meds we need. 

Better than weed. 

Or for that matter, speed. 

****

Fortunate are we to live in a time of plenty. 

Members of the gentry 

Our obligation to do more for those with less blessings. 

****

Refreshed by a nap 

My internal map reset 

No longer beset

besieged by worry, fret not 

Psst

Prolong not past regret

I wager to bet 

I can set my lucky star 

On the beautiful 

Not just buzzed in a bountiful bar 

Lucky by birth 

Happy accidents of mirth

Self worth always an annual issue 

Waiting for this shoe 

To drop with non-stop, crazy, carping, captious, flak-catching (Kens not Capetian  nor Carthaginian) crap. 

****

Ere I die, I endeavor to try to comply 

Why, with goodness, I’ll testify 

Being my own savior with more meta-cognitive behavior. 

***

Can’t wait. 

(Let’s not be late.

To the day and date of our lunch 

Probably won’t have a bunch of salmon or skate.)

I’ll bring blue suede dancing shoes. 

Who knew the news 

when I taught at that at that school 

That I’d ever be as free, hopeful, happy, calm and cool

content

Having meant to finally take a vacation from the conventional stay-cation testing tenting grounds on unmindful mound of an unholy convent. 

*****

The editing is a thrill. 

All in good time. 

Don’t rush what I feel is sufficiently if not sublime than at least ok on my own dime. 

^^^^

The hour is not that late. 

I’ve been here on this date 

With myself for two hours and a half. 

Yet there is time left. 

Not bereft of connection to my wiser wisdom

I come into my own kingdom 

whose riches 

Of which jack-of-all trades 

Helps put food on table 

To the extent I’m able 

A bit more stable 

Than I thought each day before pleasantly, helpfully enabled. 

****

In my symphonies five and six 

Not so much new techniques or tricks

Learning from the jumping mouse 

Not of my computer but of the Native American long house 

A sense ofsome freedom 

Leading from authentically what I feel. 

If an appeal to at least one other 

That would be a big deal. 

***

Many a writer

Pulled an all-nighter. 

***

Fueled with drink made the ink

Flow in sync 

With reality 

The quotidian, far from horrid, horrifying harridan banality.  

For any nationality 

A truth hidden by pedestrian thought. 

Ought to be easier to access. 

For success

Sometimes 

If not often 

Will soften 

Pointless rituals 

Of the habitual. 

****

My son seems to need more than that with which I am confortable.  

I am a parent, not a constable. 

****

It is his life. 

Some strife will help him grow. 

I know I didn’t have enough of the right mind. 

No longer completely blind 

Not completely clear 

When to help 

When to steer near or far 

He often knows instinctively when to follow his own star. 

How much to intervene 

Probably less. 

Intervention in most any mess 

Is best left to the least hint or ghost of the most effective directive. 

So how much to intervene?

It remains to be seen. 

****

Yet another poem about Lisa. 

I’m concerned about the effects deleterious 

Her successful and over-serious mother 

On her 

There is another healthier, fuller, better nourished 

Lisa yet to be discovered 

Soon to flourish. 

****

Dear, long-time friend Ray 

Always seeking through work and imaginative 

deeply felt-through play.  

Speaking of which 

For me there’s a hitch. 

Pulling myself out of habitual ditches  

Requires a letting go. 

Knowing many a meditative, medicinal and a few 

Less approvable ways

Some even, surprisingly, happily true. 

****

Today, from drink. 

The next day 

Am aware 

That to depression I’ll be prone. 

Mindfulness, I wonder may make this easier to own and get through a self-imposed despairing event. 

Worth the unpleasant 

To get out of self-conscious, self-construct. self-constraint resonant. 

****

From whence does this endless stream

Dream-like 

Open mic 

Creativity flow?

Doggerel

What the hell

my stock and trade

Poetry 

Less so in music I’ve made. 

****

Yes 

I was a schmuck. 

No, not all the time. 

From time to time. 

More than that. 

In my envy of cool cats of jazz 

Bands, chorus, music theater

I held back infinite tears 

Gears got clogged 

Bogged 

Stuck in that envious and oh so unenviable smog 

Seemingly intractable forever 

Almost never allowing what is to be and flourish.

Now, instead I continually nourish. 

 *****

I leave with drink unfinished

Dessert not eaten.  

Have without trying 

Not buying into this or that philosophy 

Neither theosophy nor over-much hypocrisy 

A way authentic. 

Noticed o highland Scott’s bonded band of pipes grand

high pitched 

Ditched a low road for the high 

Nigh a road nonetheless by and bye. 

Why over the over-rode doth good it does abide telling me to hone pleasant, hearth and abode. 

****

Uncomfortable bumps are the norm. 

Observe, wait for for the storm to pass

past ruminating concentric. 

Luxuriating in the pleasantly eclectic. 

****

Say. 

Maybe if I wait long enough 

I’ll finish that drink. 

Eat that desert. 

It doesn’t matter. 

What does

 is feeling centered.  

No longer unnecessarily seeking advice endlessly mentored.  

This is the time less vague and scattered.  

I find my own. 

Shown the light of way 

Swaying with the gentle breeze

Deep -kneed appreciation for deep tones  luckily hear (even without beer) 

as new in light 

A history: focusing on the negative 

My prerogative to see the good 

Help others achieve a life 

Previously denied, clouded, self-denied 

No longer misunderstood. 

*****

Beth has had enough of me for now. 

Holy cow!

What a surprise.

Ha. 

Cha, Cha, Cha.  

She’s self controlled

A bit stoic. 

Goody goody two shoes 

Never gives in to blues. 

My life is for me to choose.  

***

I so choose 

After a life uptight 

Constrained 

Unnatural 

Preternaturally unpleasant 

In some ways yet overall

Mom’s and dad’s gifts 

Gave me the wherewithal to 

Still 

Consistently create ways to lift 

Chill, filling my well 

You can tell the till still 

The pull to the light 

No longer requiring flight nor fight 

Neither bull joke 

Nor the null set of a brutish, Brit braking bad forsaking Blake 

Venting after ventriloquist’s vetting 

I’m happier getting 

Peace of a kind 

Compassionate mind. 

*^^^

A poem is brewing. 

In booze, I am  stewing. 

Never would have thought in younger days 

I’d be the man I am today. 

For good and bad 

Sans dad. 

It is what it is. 

I feel not sad about this biz. 

No longer feel I have to be perfect. 

Reflecting good is enough good   

Venturing kit and caboodle by noodling

Doodling after the good doctor 

Who speaks with animals 

Do little or less. 

From internal quiet 

Will I be relieved best 

from

my own little messy nest. 

****

My leg doth hurt 

Too much sitting inert. 

***

I think I wrote that exact same poem a year or 

More back 

You’d think I’d have by now more of a knack. 

Aha!

So the self-directed anger shows it’s face. 

What! 

An about-face?

I thought I had won that race. 

***

I’m tense. 

Danny 

Beth 

My leg and hip

Chantal is hip. 

And I’m a

Neat-o guy. 

****

My beard is gray. 

Ok. 

Sometimes deep brown. 

More happy 

Less do I frown 

Up and about the town. 

****

The thinning hairs of Ken 

The beards of men. 

Do I need the strengths of ten 

To be an ordinary friend?