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

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-

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

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

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



xxxx

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

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


xxxx