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Wednesday, June 28, 2017

The Valley of Time

Here we've come
to the valley of time
The river never floods
unless we attempt
to remember
where we put our keys
It's then it becomes
The Box Canyon of Time

If we lost our glasses
it becomes
The Grand Canyon of Time
...at night
and the river
is full of
ferocious magazine racks
escaped ottomans
and cold-blooded Legos

If we're drunk
crawling into our home
it becomes
The Mariana's Trench of Time
full of those weird fish
with the lighted lures
and big teeth
Those teeth are actually
the steps up to our bedroom
where upon we fall
into the gaping maw of sleep
Maws always gape

If one is trying
to discuss the finances
of a relationship
and why one cannot
buy a set of tools
or a new Brazilian Bikini
it becomes
the Black Hole of Time
A big one sucking up the universe
followed by
make-up sex of the universe

Now that we've discussed
this topic from
its logical beginning
Do attempt to avoid
this type of poem
because they are
The Potholes of Time
and you've just blown
The Tire of Time


Barry G. Wick





Monday, June 26, 2017

Planetary Experiments

This planet thinks

So many organisms failed
before we were here
Earth is trying us out
for thousands of years
in order to see
if we're capable
of sustaining ourselves
and the life it gave us

So far
to help us live in this world
we've chosen the industries
of death

It's giving us one last chance
to get it right
or
it will drown us
poison us
blow us away
shake our foundations
burn us or freeze us
and otherwise
make a hell
some religions believe exists
in order to advance
some other beings
it may have already created

Trees could be
the smartest beings
on the planet
They don't move
as often as we do
Imagine
a tree building
its house out of people
but don't repeat that
or it might happen


Barry G. Wick



Sunday, June 18, 2017

Reflections on Father's Day


sometimes we know
as men
as fathers
that we could have
been better at our jobs

the longer we live
the more we are
confronted by memory
filled with images
of a distant
and unchanging past

there are never regrets
to entertain our failures
minutes upon hours
hours upon days
days upon months
months upon years
a tower of imagined
what ifs

Beyond those heights
of hardened time
thick glass mirrors
clouded with
dried tear drops
wiped away to reveal
wrinkled faces
we believe
this is how life
has always progressed
from generation to generation
that there never is a perfect
man to child relationship
only the steady ballast
of sinking ships
remembered as they floated
upright and balanced
on windy oceans


Barry G. Wick



Sunday, June 4, 2017

The Dance of Blue Curtains

Beeping fireflies
for the blind
overpower crickets
who stage a strike
with no signs
of their shocked silence

I catch your eyes again
that look for a star
at the dawn of night
in a yawn as light
passes over the lane
we follow back in time

Where are you now
little bud of new roses
that plays through this ocean
this cerulean dream
as we lean in rapture
to groan the night's overture

Hail the southern breezes
as they tickle windows
in their birth
of summer laughter
as stars plummet
through blue curtains



Barry G. Wick

The Uninhibited Life


To wake up every day
with no one's agenda
in mind
to follow one's own course
without hurting others
without hearing a no
in someone's voice
slipping through the neurons
like an electrocution
of limitation and destruction
to be a hummingbird
or a rhinoceros

By the time most of us
have reached our teenage years
so much of our creativity
is eclipsed
blackened by others
or systems designed
to plow under our new growth

Wake up! Wake up!
Design your minutes
with the colors
from your depths
Inspire yourself
to break through
the fences of flattery
the doors of deception
Be your owner
be your landlord
be your creator



Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

The Word


A significant improvement
over the grunt and pointing
the word
in many languages
and alphabets
takes us to or from
mental telepathy
if from
then our descent into confusion
is deserved
if to
there is hope
that all the wars and disagreements
will be relieved
by something better

Automatically as if by design
someone confronted by these words
may wish to voice their own
since as many of us know
that to control the conversation
to control the flow of words
increases our esteem
with our tribesmen
since few wish to vocalize
thus leading others
in various directions
either mentally of physically
Those from that other
jungle neighborhood
will wag their butts
and raise their loincloths
in an affront to the speaker
since their arrows
have another stripe or feather
and likely forgodssake
another gODD
created by their old men
around a fire
or in some forgetful book
that only they think is wonderful

So there you have the problem
old men and women
leading younger
into belief systems
through words
and battles
that destroy the young
since the old
are jealous of youth
and had to develop
a system that would
punish the younger
and their hubris
typically pleading peace
bliss and happiness

Youth waving their
intensely hard cocks
or tight breasts and butts
no wrinkles sagging
their souls into despair

Words created by the old
designed to kill off
just enough of the young
to make them old
so they too
can create systems
to destroy the young
they bring into the world

And that
as they say
is the last word
no
don't respond through thought
you will disappoint me
as I am old
trying to keep
the ages pure and hatefilled
so don't fight me
go find some younger person
to send to the waste pile
of history
so that their friends
will grow old
as they attempt to develop
they're own words
that no one will contend

and please
do as your mother
taught you
change your loincloth
regularly
something smells


Barry G. Wick



Monday, May 22, 2017

Question and Response


Old Doc Munson
with his years
creased upon his face
had his women's clinic
in the morning shadow
of Hangman's Hill
on the first ring
of the black mountain
hills of Dakota
that splits Rapid City
Some praying protesters
might have wanted
to take him up that hill
Many women thanked him

As a poor young man
in the dirty thirties
Ben Munson
joined the CCC
the Civil Conservation Corps
to support himself
and his family

On his first day
he sought the main office
of the camp at Custer
Walking in
he saw a tall man
in uniform
his feet in boots
upon the desk
Ben had a question
that we don't know
to this day
I'm looking for the head man 
he said

From behind the desk
Lieutenant Frank James Soutar
barked
I'm the man with the big nuts
and so our family
has only one recorded
direct quote
of my grandfather
a man who spoke and wrote
seven languages
including Arabic
a talented engineer
who was said
to have read
every book
in the Rapid City Library

Such were the days
when the government
and its wealthy President
cared about its people
before gross profiteers
before television
before the Internet
before people's heads
were down
on their mobile phones
looking at an idiot's tweets
from the President's bedroom
in the White House
a time when my grandfather
was helping a young man
find his way
into the profession of medicine
to help women
out of the trouble
some men caused


Barry G. Wick