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Monday, July 23, 2012

Rules to Guarantee a Short Life

((Author's Note:  This poem/rant has been written in response to many Christian conservatives claiming being gay is a culture that worships death....despite the fact that Christianity is a middle eastern death cult in itself promising life after biological death.  This poem/rant contains unsettling images and is recommended for mature audiences.  The author hopes to live a long, full life to old age in good health and suggestions contained here-in are not  what he really believes.))
This poem read aloud by the author


Please remember
you are likely to wind up
in a toilet before you
are big enough to be born
If this is your goal
you will have succeeded
in not having a life at all

Acquire and wear make-up
prior to birth to look
like a different race
from your mother's husband
so that when you are born
you are guaranteed to be hated
by at least one person
Put cellophane tape on your eyelids
to look Chinese
unless you're Chinese of course

Stay in your mother's womb
eventually someone will force you out
kicking and screaming
often with sharp instruments
Try running into one

Start smoking just after birth
and request daily contact
with drugs and hazardous chemicals
though some call it eating
Since you are likely to be human at birth
these substances may have already
given you flippers
which means
you'll be given sympathy
making it difficult to find
an early exit from life

About circumcision for boys
try jumping just as it's happening
assuring you of ambiguous genitalia
everybody out here hates
people who don't know their sex
You will be hated for this immediately

Speaking of food
don't eat much
food has become poisoned
with all sorts of bad stuff
if you insist
eat nothing but butter
and raw pork sausage or better
eat nothing but uncooked hot dogs

Don't drink the water
or the milk
instead concentrate
on convincing your mother
to give you martinis when you cry

Immunization can be a good
or bad thing
Ignorant parents will
eschew shots for you
Be sure to give them
intelligence tests
before you are born
Better still
be born in a Taliban family

Never go to school
instead read books
without pictures
or learning
any alphabet first
Education often guarantees survival
which means Sesame Street
is a big no-no

Stay naked
The older you get the more
fun you will have walking
into religious meetings
where you will discover a power
greater than yourself

Draw and post
pictures of a middle-eastern
prophet who shall remain
nameless
playing American football
and eating bacon
A significant number
of people will be unhappy
with you for even thinking
about it

Collect pets like
rattlesnakes
funnel web spiders
grizzly bears
and powered tree chippers

Fall in love
with cliffs and tall buildings
eventually you may find
one that will reject
your romantic advances

Remember that
green means go in China
and stop in the US

Have gay sex in broad daylight
on any corner
in St. Petersburg, Russia
or at Robert Mugabe's birthday party
though if you've followed the
rules to this point
you're not likely to have
achieved sexual maturity

If you live in a democracy
don't vote
if you live in a dictatorship
run for the highest office
if you live where
there is no government
suggest forming one
this will guarantee
some kind of hatred
that might provide an early exit
from life

if somehow
you've grown up
to be a productive
member of society
you have failed
Ropes guns pills and skydiving
were invented
for your particular problem
even then these things
can fail

Lastly, if everything has failed
to this point
to provide you an exit from life
and you are now
late middle-aged
divorced
living at home
and paying child-support
try caring for an elderly parent
This will likely kill you
before the parent dies

Failing even that
refuse Social Security
buy a tent and live
in or very near a forest
or a tall mountain
Pray for a dry year
and lightning

If you've completely failed
to heed the intent
of all these suggestions
you're wondering if there is a gODD

The answer is no
These rules have always been here
They've always been written for you
and
you
citizen of the universe
are a complete fuck-up



Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick

Saturday, July 21, 2012

The Crib


Awake in the dark hours
staring at a bright screen
when I
refuse to go back to sleep

this is my inner child
as defiant as ever
even now to me
as an adult

younger I would have
been spanked once
and dragged off to my crib
by one arm
and the lid tied shut
in more than a dozen knots
by mother who knows
how many to tie
to keep me busy
until she's ready to get
me up

and now I have
untied all the knots
to care for her
nearly 94
tied in her own knots
not sure where she is
in a desparate effort
to get out of the crib
she fell into
the crib she made
all by herself

the older I get
the more I understand
the concept of karma
and wonder what awaits me
for all the trouble
I caused my children
It is a knot in my brain now
that keeps me awake
and even lucid as I am
can't untie the last one
wet with my tears
held fast
by my fingers that fumble
in the early morning
before the bright screen
this child cannot leave
these fears of the dark
future of my childhood
as I wait for anyone
to untie me from my prison
that I made for myself


Copyright (c) 2012 by Barry G. Wick
Follow this link to hear the poet read this poem.



-30-

Saturday, July 14, 2012

The Composer, the Critic and a Saint


Johannes Brahms in his mind
at two pianos
playing variations
on a theme by Joseph Haydn
on a path in the forest
with Saint Anthony sneaking
about someplace.

Saint Anthony whispers to Brahms:
Being a composer is not as complicated
as being
gODD,
who makes a tree and
then says, “i'LL have another,
only different,”
in a variation that only hE understands.
gODD hopes the second tree
will swing along with the original,
so, hE knows the trees
have to practice daily
in order to know
how their branches
will sway in the breezes together
to end on the same note;
the same beat.

Imagine the entire forest
as each tree grows and sways,
as each tree pulls water from the soil
to push out leaves:
an orchestra of trees
under one cOMPOSER
who also conducts
this green orchestra.

And then fire:
the critic in the first row,
wiping all the notes from the page:
dissing the cOMPOSER.
“yOU had a chance to make it rain.”
says the critic.

which is why gODD
refuses to read reviews
about the trees hE makes

“Stupid critic,”
grumbles gODD.
“I was in a mood to try
some dry humor
and you could not feel
mY creation:
absurd and funny.”

so the critic walks from the theater
with ashes on his coat
and fire for his words
printed in the daily
to admonish gODD
for destruction of a forest

Brahms
with just two pianos
balanced between his ears
fully understood
the relationships
between fire and forest,
between critic and creator,
and
between ashes and empathy,
as he walked through the trees
hands clasped
behind his back
listening to the Saint
rustle the leaves
ever so gently.



Copyright 2012 by Barry G. Wick All rights reserved
Follow this link to the audio version of this poem read by the author.



xxxx

Friday, July 13, 2012

The Boiling Mind


Too much sour stimulation
images, text, video
and I physically start to heat
then looking out the window
toward the secrets
of the back yard
I see the moving water
of the creek that roils
by our house
every minute of every day
ten thousand mirrors
in seconds to calm
and I know that I was
never meant to let
my brain boil away
on the stove of my computer
so I turn it off
with just one glance
that removes the pot
to make a cup of tea
soon, it's cool enough
to sip my own
lightly-sweetened thoughts



Tuesday, July 3, 2012

A Man Alone


"A man alone is obviously crazy."--Paul Goodman

here at night
I look at the dark
and edit the instrumental
parts of a song
not unlike
snipping pieces of my memory
and pasting them
forwards and backwards
in my mind
as I try to come up
with something that means
anything to me

the visions of the past
youth and growth to manhood
the sparks of a past life
create lightning in my closed eyes
and all the while this music
echos through the house
trying to find its way
back to where it came from

these notes are lost
to the new generation
who have their own revolution
to pretend they can win
and no matter what I do
I want to race into the street
and scream for the world to change
for wars to dump their arms at sea
for hatred to change into hugs
for hunger to slink away starving
as the gaunt turn into the chubby-cheeked

All this time alone has turned to years
and I can't decide
if what I feel
are the sharp edges of sanity
instead of the smooth curves
of a happy day
filled with what I once wanted
flowers, peace and love
flowers, peace and love