Spring Iris

 

"Lament for the Darkness"

5 am and not a hint of dawn-
Lament for the darkness
Lament,
for all our sins are counted,
Sweet lady,
All our deeds recorded are,
And this is rightly done.

You lay quiet through the years,
the snow years...
Now awaken, awaken
O mind of the four directions,
be herald to the coming of the dawn.

6:30 am and note well
the scars of night-battle,
as dreams are, awaken and see
the utter necessity of light...

7:00 am and the sun rises
and it is a new day,
Search for the beginning of things.

A child's cry in the dark,
but alas, there are no monsters under the bed.

"Spring"

They say spring comes but once a year,
and I say,
let's thank God for that.
I'd rather see old winter's wind
blow tattered hats off old men's heads,
than hear tired poems recited,
how spring unfolds tender blooms of love
writ by school boys too young, too soon.

And spring comes slowly to New England,
lest we forget the wood's wet
and the ground's cold 'til June;
Warm weather's a rumor of memory
so if March sends a fair wind or two,
please keep in mind
warm breezes come too early
may make an April fool of you.

"Come, invites the wind..."

Come, invites the wind, let us dance
a tune to lighten your heart by,
a song to give you strength
as you the days tred your path
and wait upon your love, who comes to wake you
'midst slumbering dreams...
As the morning dew refreshens you
and we take our leave
from this mortal earth.
We rejoice and slacken our chains
and are free,
My Disconsolate Angel...

"Last Night's Coffee"

Your memory, as bitter
as last night's coffee-
awful to the taste
but I drink to the dregs anyway,
my dear occasional angel...

"The Girl by the Window"

Well, faithful reader(s) I am back to blogging this night, Friday night and all the local yokels are partying down like there's no tomorrow and I, to be extremely truthful don't give a tinker's dam if they do. Or if they don't!!
I just got back from a sports bar downtown; now, I want you to know that as a rule I usually don't go bar-hopping or any such ridiculous thing. But tonite I had nothing to do so I got myself downtown to a local art gallery that was presenting readings of Ernest Hemingway, the great Poppa of us all. Of course, I got there late and as soon as I walked in the door, they finished the recitation...they were reading from 'The Old Man and the Sea,' which I have read a few times. I was disappointed in not being on time, but who ever goes early to these things. A very nice Hispanic gallery, people are doing very creative things in this little burg of ours. I did strike up a conversation with some people, especially a very nice (shall I say,'mature,') woman. Very beautiful but at the age when a woman is still attractive even though she may be passing through difficult waters concerning age and all the rest. She promised to email me concerning an art coop in the next state over. So I could join and all, as I am a semi-professional photographer and though some would say their art is a hobby, I prefer to call my art professional; that's my story and I'm sticking to it!!
So, I meandered into a sports bar and was quite captivated by all the beautiful women (I could not decide which of the two bar-maids was more attractive) had a Budweiser and was going to ask one of them to buy a drink for the pretty lady, "Sitting right over there by the window." Whilst I was coming in the door, I locked eyes with a very appealing young lady. Of course, I chickened out and never bought the lady a drink...que sera sera, what ever will be, will be, que sera sera. Not my scene, I guess.
So, after rambling round for a few minutes, listening to the blues and rock pouring from the cafes and taverns, I followed my nose to a waiting cab and came home. The cabbie, by chance, was the very same one who had brought me downtown a few short hours earlier. From west africa, he complained how he had been working 16 hours today and would clear only $140 at best. Well, my trip was worth it, I suppose; I made a few contacts for my photography and that was that! (While ambling down the street, I considered how the Good Book says, "Better to visit the house of mourning that the house of mirth."
Thus, I arrived home, lit a cigarette and decided to blog. "The Lord works in strange ways."

"A Variety of Disguises"

So, we thought we knew it all when, as clueless children, we would further our pretend play by deriding our parents and their colleagues, by exclaiming, "Those grownups, they don't know ANYTHING!!!"
Of course, we were right, at least as far as we could tell, adults were just watching life pass by and WE on the other hand, knew all the secrets only a child would know, even if we knew not the results and consequences of our thoughts & activities. Adults always assume they get wiser and wiser by the day until they get to old age and have forgotten everything except how to tie one's shoe; lest I be accused of ageism and so on and so forth, I hasten to add that the old phrase, "I'm having a senior moment," has crept into my vocabulary to the extent that yes, I know I set up a web-page BUT I DO NOT remember setting it up, which is sort of like fathering a child but not remembering who the mother is; or, "Yes, I remember yesterday like it was today, but I have no clue what happened since I got up out of bed this morning." And I DO NOT need a hearing aid, everyone just mumbles around me and I have no idea what you are saying, dear, I have shut off my hearing aid; who are all these strange people around me and what are their names... Yes, I do remember what I had for breakfast, I have a coffee and danish and orange juice every day of my life, thank you!!
All of this is to say that I now acknowledge to all and every, I have entered old age... only young old age of course. So, there are three stages of old age; beginning, middle and end. But no, please do not call me elderly, call me "Elder" if you wish; not "old," but rather, "Older." Not "Wise," but "Wisenheimer." Or, if you do not wish to call me anything, just don't call me, especially if it is 2:00 am and it's raining; if you are Bi-polar, please call me only 5 times a day, lest we miss the boat entirely and sit around trading sweet nothings of non-sequitars. Por jemple, "The trees are nice in the springtime and isn't it awful that the barbarians are at the city gates?" and I rejoinder say, "Yes, isn't Bill Gates really laughing all the way to the bank?"

So we get back to the basic problem of 'Plato's Cave.' We are chained to the wall and can see nothing but fading shadows on the wall in front of us, the sun blares out it's rays and we, not even knowing that there IS a sun, have been brainwashed by all the other rumors that say, "Look Mack, what you see is what you get. There's nothing else in all the universes except our wall and ourselves. Why knock yourself out trying to find anything beyond the empirical evidence that there is nothing beyond what we can see, feel, hear or taste. Get with it!! Work 9 to 5 like an ass or mule, don't worry 'bout nuttin' beyond yourself, Number One."
So, we are all such lackeys for the government or party or club or clan. 'What fools these mortals be!!' Can you not hear the dogs of society howl? Are you still gonna work on Maggie's farm no more, Mr. Bob Dylan, prince of poetry and Voice of a Generation.
So, let's get back to my original story, the allegory of Plato's Cave. The empiricists will rue the day they only saw with just the six senses, including the mind. How can you prove there is light beyond our purview? they will ask. Well, we will just have to prove it to you by your actually seeing 'The Truth.' " YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!" Of course, Jack Nichols was right, we cannot handle the truth unless it liberates us from the chains and shadows in Plato's Cave, ie, "The Truth Shall Set You Free!!" And, "There is nothing done in the darkness that will not be shown in the light of day." Amen to THAT, Bro" "And the best lack all conviction and the worst grow passionately more intense." (W.B. Yeats)

Nb. Please do not hold this person, 'Bruce' responsible for what is written here, for I am Bruce's 'Evil Twin,' his chief nemesis and mortal enemy. Bruce is not who you think he is, nor shall he ever be, OK??