Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: The government doesn't read my poetry. You do. Out of over 400 poems here on this blog by me, I hope you find one or more you like. Thank you for my readers. Thank you for your comments.

Monday, February 29, 2016

So gODD Made a Cat (with apologies to anybody who wrote something similar)

So gODD made a cat
someone who would shit
in your shoe right next to
their expensive self-cleaning
poo box
So gODD made a cat
someone who would scratch
every piece of furniture
in the house
furniture that it pees on
furniture on which you
suddenly notice the odd smell
of cat urine your friends
won't tell you about.
So gODD made a cat
which purrs to wake you
on your day off
or puts his tongue on your lips
just after it licked it's ass
So gODD made a cat
to cry for food right after
it finished a can of three dollar
cat food with the face of that actor
you know the one your favorite
So gODD made a cat
who fights in the neighborhood
or moans to be fucked
the costs of which are
beyond your billfold
digging into your credit cards
So gODD made a cat
to be funny for 10 seconds
in a video on Youtube
that was passed around
on Reddit and Facebook
with no reference to your edit
of 1300 hours of cat video
So gODD made a cat
that belongs to your neighbor
who prefers your company
when you are deathly allergic
to cat hair and smell and anything
So gODD made a cat
giving you an excuse
for animal mutilation
no matter the charges
no matter the sentence
So gODD made a cat
that finally gave you a reason
to buy a dog

Barry G. Wick


Your knock was expected at the door
I screamed the floor from my bed
the floor the bathroom floor
the refrigerator is near a stage of dead

While we're here the kitchen has needs
My dear goddess helps me not
even after my cooking and enormous feeds
somewhere I lost it a greasy pot

Hygea has marked my house with her finger
so sanitary that not one bead
of sweaty dirt on that hand will linger
her mark a warning for others to heed

Barry G. Wick

Friday, February 26, 2016

Always Holding Back

Seeing through glasses
projected reality in focus
without them
it could be dark beyond the sink
beyond the clock
beyond this shirt
that begins to develop holes
in the fading colors
the finely knitted cloth
that breaks down
wash after wash
days of use and abuse
What is seen is invisible
it's not there
the universe holding itself
from stepping into the next moment
from which projections
spill themselves
but aren't felt
a canyon full of varied red emotions
or are they emulsions on a film
colored self-hatred or self-love
depending on the day
depending on the moment
depending on itself
to create the next
the same as fish experience
staring though glass
to an untouchable world

Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, February 10, 2016


As he scraped the remaining liquid yoke
from the center of his plate
he was reminded of Pasternak
how Stalin had crossed his name
off the list of those to be executed

Had he just executed the egg
that would have become
one of the greatest writers
of the 21th century
perhaps not
but there was always a chance
that at least one chicken
would make history beyond itself

The beep suddenly shook him
a reminder that the bacon
was in a shallow pan
in the oven
that it had completed its
timed purpose to brown
the porkish candy
he so relished that he
closed all the curtains
in his home fearing
neighbors awakened by the smell
would peer through the windows
knock on the doors
storm the kitchen
and the baby in the stroller
rolls down the steps
a mother silently screaming

Barry G Wick

Monday, February 8, 2016

The Unfinished Hurts

Birth with all its pain for the mother
is painful for the child

The pain of a child's first fall
is still with the child as it grows

A parent's separation and indifference
is still with the child as it grows

The first time a child is told “no”
remains with the child forever

The first love is a constant pain
when the love is squelched or lost

The loss of a friend for differences
is a pain that stays inside

The pain of an unfinished project
resulting in a lost improvement

Missing childhood for a parent's dream
is a pain that only grows stronger

Denying yourself the love of another
to please someone else is pain that grows

Reaching an age when there is no love
is a pain that grew when it wasn't noticed

Mistakes that remain unspoken
are crashed cymbals when praying

Rocks thrown in play hurt the same
as rocks thrown in anger with a lasting pain

The deepest scars are the ones we put
inside ourselves with our hands and words

Barry G. Wick

Friday, February 5, 2016

Through These Nights

Visions from last night
frighten the possibilities away
in this night
as sleep crawls into an orchestral blast
designed to keep someone awake
from a radio

Thumbs rub against each other
while fingers select something useless
to communicate to nobody

There were no knocks on the door
No mysterious lovers came to visit
from behind their veils
Many were imagined
here to pass hours whispering
while a lonely candle flickered

Secret longings were discovered
though none were written
or translated into foreign languages
just for the surprised look
on the faces of those going through
these papers

les désirs secrets les plus intimes
en nommant les images
qui traversent l'esprit
sur des pistes en acier
qui gardent ce grand désespoir
avancer de jour en jour”

(“the most intimate secret desires
naming images
that cross the mind
on steel tracks
that keep this great despair
advancing day by day”)

this is the connection
between two
who don't exist

Only one is here
to find something to pick
from teeth after a meal
made from unfinished projects
empty bottles of medicine
and a canyon of quiet
in a small house
with no echo

Barry G. Wick

(The French quotation is not a quotation from any French poetic source. It is a translation of the following stanza using Google Translate. It is designed to make this poet seem multilingual, intellectual, and academic despite four years of French.)