national poetry month

national poetry month
Join in the Poetry of Life!

Friday, August 28, 2015

!!!tHe Super And Incredible Datsons Of Maxim!!!

I sleep in until 6:30 where I find machine running
Step-mom working for an hour
And a stupid 5 million dollar house
With it's radio that took 10,000 years to invent
It's lightbulbs that took 100 failures before working
And the milled lumber shipped using 100 horses
With imported clover and kentucky grass perfected by 10 plant ecologists
Raking it for twigs from the wind, I rake dirt
From unseasonally warm climate change
That's changed with respect to time, too,
Dry summers get dryer, wet springs getting wetter
While the deserts expand and lakes get larger.

I sit in some sort of pose between Hyde and Hulk
Trying to calm, rage?

no.

But just so I can start hearing again.
For sometimes the world is too much with me...
And it does turn me less green, less apprehensive

So I sit in some sort of pose between Hyde and Hulk
cross-leggedly listening... feeling, tasting, seeing, smelling
the infinity of time without space, not dead but still
Like the Peace I am wishing would fill my heart!

Why Not!?

I was born this way
With ears to hear my breathing with
And nerves to feel my pulse
Leaving me with time and focus of needing less, wanting less
And probably working less so I can spend more time on family.

My dogs only rest when they die the dreaming of sleep
My awakening about killed me once, door after door was shown
And much the same before, I was not idle living the idylls of country life.
Things to be fixed, things to be written, and things to be read.

The kingdom of real heaven is not known here.
Only elderly men with volumes forgotten in unwritten diaries
But having found their lonely and many-roomed house of rememberance...
 ...lonely and manifold...
Sometimes I wonder why I've never noticed how dark it could be in here
What with my preoccupation with light.

No, the kingdom of real heaven sorts out the stars
more concerned perhaps with panspermia than taxes
more concerned perhaps with truth than control
more concerned perhaps with pragmatism
With grace only bequeathed to poor people.

No comments:

Post a Comment