poetry

Child’s Play

Me or her. Him or me.
You’re making me choose?
I’m being asked to play a game
Where in the end I lose.

Is this what we’ve come to?
We’re stooping this low?
I refuse to take sides
So my answer is No.

We’re all adults.
You and him, her and I.
Yet you want me against her
And my response is, Why?

You say he’s the problem,
You say she’s at fault.
But the problem’s in front of me
That, I have no doubt.

I won’t play your game,
I won’t get involved.
If you insist on these terms,
it’ll never be solved.

We’ll be forced to move on,
Each go our own way,
Because I won’t take part,
In your childish game.

It’s a shame our good times
are gone with the wind,
But there’s no room in my life
for “her or me,” “me or him.”

A Big Fix Indeed

People get paid
Decisions are swayed.
This world is corrupt
The way deals are made.

What’s in it for me?
How much will I see?
Driven by dollar signs,
The new democracy

We look to our leaders
To those with the power,
But they too are corrupt
And faith has gone sour.

Still, all is not lost
Just weighing the costs
Of taking a stand
Against those we call boss

Together take stands
Loud voices, upraised hands
Reasonable demands
From Big Biz and Uncle Sam

The Bachelors, revisited

I wrote a poem in college,
about the boy I loved,
how I’d date a few others,
but he rose high above.

Since then I’ve dated some,
Fell hard and not at all.
But mostly learned about myself
Hung my flaws up on the wall…

I say I don’t want baggage;
It does not suit me well.
I cannot deal with baggage,
So leave yours on the shelf.

I cannot stand the drama;
It’s more than I can take.
You bring me too much drama;
I do this for our sake.

I want a lot of things in life,
And just as many in a man.
But first of all I need to know
What I can’t have, what I can.

I can’t eschew your baggage,
when I have some of my own.
I can’t demand no baggage,
Then bring mine in your home.

I can’t insist no drama,
When I’m dramatic too.
I can’t write off my drama
As if it doesn’t affect you.

I can have a man that shares
the passions that I do.
I can want a man that says
his love for me is true.

I can have a man who’s sweet,
sincere, honest and kind.
I can ask a man to show his heart,
and I will show him mine.

Learn

Manipulate
You say you don’t
Ulterior motive
You say there isn’t
But I’ve learned

You’re always looking
Looking for an emotion
You’re always trying
Trying to incite a reaction
But I’ve learned

Pitch a fit
And you get what you want
Flip the tables
And you get your way
But I’ve learned

The way of your childhood
The only way you know
The way you handle life, or don’t
The cause of your demise
Others will learn

Talented and driven
Your strengths
Controlling and calculating
Your weaknesses
Others will learn

When friends move on?
When your family is gone?
When she’s had enough?
When . . .
Will you learn?

That One Fateful Night
(a poem written to present at a good friend’s wedding)

A night on the town, it started out grand.
Casey and I were going out to party with her man.
We met his friends; one was especially cute.
Tall, dark and handsome, and a nice guy to boot.
The night took a turn, when Casey’s man was a jerk.
Obviously that relationship wasn’t going to work.
We ditched his ass, not looking back as we drove away.
She moved onto a magician, and Kyle looked my way.
But I was a bitch, so Kyle made the switch.
Seeing Casey as a potential Kaczmarek.
I was elated that Casey had found a great man.
But sad that I’d have to share my best friend.
Even more so when she moved into his pad.
But our friendship stayed strong, so I didn’t feel so bad.
Fast forward to December 2008,
When Casey and Kyle were visiting New York State.
They spent New Years Eve touring the city,
Stopping at Central Park where Kyle got down on his knee.
He proposed, asking for the marriage of his beloved Boo.
Without hesitation, she said, “I’ll marry you.”
Here they are today, becoming man and wife.
A union that can be credited to that one fateful night.

What’s in a name?

Suffocation, like tight
clothing picked out at the most
fashionable boutique. The one at the mall
all the young girls flock to, looking
for the hottest styles. Looking
for themselves, or who they think they should be.

Everyone must fit
in, the way gourmet chocolates fit in
designer boxes. Designer. Name brand.
These names take control
and lead you blind. They distort
your thinking and program your thoughts.
No longer will your thoughts be original
They become manufactured

Manufactured like a car on an assembly line.
Mercedes
Corvette
Lexus
BMW
Just make sure it has a nice
name. A name everyone will appreciate.
Something acceptable.

Because everyone appreciates the surgeon
and his Rolex watch. The CEO looks
very acceptable in his Armani duds.
And the pilot’s wife fits nicely
in her material world.

Mother earth has become a material girl
and we embrace her with all that we can
afford. Forget love, all you need is
a name in this game.

A friend till your end

You lie there,
detached and lifeless
Oblivious
to the world around you.
Your body is trapped
inside a shell, struggling
to break free
The drug
controls you.
It sucks up everything
as you suck it down.
It brings pain,
but you embrace it
the way you used to
embrace us.

A hollow stare dominates
your pale face.
Confused
Delirious
Masking any feelings or care
But it doesn’t hide our hurt;
It doesn’t deny the suffering.
Your body screams for life
as it is dying.
You call for help,
but we are helpless too.
Your obsession has become ours,
yet we despise it.

The world grows,
but you sink lower.
Everything moves forward,
but you do not.
Instead, you continue to fall,
hand in hand with your inanimate friend.

A sonnet of homage

Mountains stand tall
City mile high
A continental wall
Foreigners pass by.
Camping under summer skies
Skiing over winter snow
Rocky Mountain paradise
John Denver would know.
South Platte River
Meets big city lights
The land always delivers
This place is just right.
At home wild and free
My true sanctity.

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