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Thank you to those who support me via my Paypal account: rikwrybac@yahoo.com. The government doesn't read my poetry. You do. Out of over 370 poems here on this blog by me, I hope you find one or more you like.

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Friday, August 31, 2018

Pending Restart

Pending Restart

Now comes the end of life
distressing to some
fear of what's next
fear of nothing
fear of the dark
too many fears to handle

Believers don't have this problem
but so many aren't believers
Then come those
who believe in reincarnation
Buddhists and such
Now think of reincarnation
as a chance to get a new body
a new life
a new way of looking all of this

I prefer to think of reincarnation
as a black screen from the maker
with the words
Pending Restart
I'll stare at it until something happens
Perhaps it'll be something like
Don't turn off your life
We're downloading your update now
ten per cent
twenty per cent
forty-five per cent
one hundred per cent
Then all of a sudden
everything gets bright
as I'm pushed down
my new mother's vagina
or whatever will give me
a new life
Perhaps I'll just break out
of an egg or something like it
and if there's this giant
blue screen
I'm gonna scream

which will please the doctor no end

Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Dear Mr. Vivaldi

Dear Mr. Vivaldi

There you are at your simple desk
putting notes of music
on expensive paper until it's full
I listen to your thoughts
with the drops of rain
hitting the window on this morning
I feel like dancing
to these percussive strings
playing melody
with gentle turns of the bow
the Concerto for Violin in G Major
I could never listen
to anything else
Never and for the rest of my life
You scratch your head
for just a second
as we both stare
waiting for the next measure
Both you and I know
you won't waste much time in thought
There's too much music
bouncing across you skull
enough for ten lifetimes
speeding through your pen
to paper to the score for the conductor
to the parts for the musicians
The river of ink flows
through the speakers in my livingroom
to my ears
none of it dripping
into my breakfast
I hate cleaning up
piles of misshapen notes of music
of modern musicians
I'm already looking forward
to out next meeting
I'll make a fresh pot
It's good to have the best company
come to visit
now
Tony Tony Tony
write eight bars of whole note rests
you deserve it

Barry G. Wick

Poem

Poem

memories of the past
dreams of impossible events
thoughts about today
none are real

former lovers
wanted lovers
and no lovers
always with and not

calm
a breeze
a gale
the emotions
of living alone

Barry G. Wick

Friday, August 24, 2018

Mental Mush(perhaps next year)

Mental Mush(perhaps next year)

It's after breakfast at the hospital
where it's the annual visit
for the national research study
that occupies my life
every day and every three months

I've had my coffee
eggs and toast
orange juice

The nurse starts testing me
for mental cognition
At sixty-six the cogs
are a bit worn
even after coffee

I have a minute to give her
all the words I can name
with a set a rules of course
words that I'm not allowed to name
words that begin
with the letter “F”
A naturally nasty poet
like old numb nuts
ought to have a number
of such nouns
Did I say it was morning?
Two small cups is not enough
“Flagons” of coffee are necessary
to start the engine's “fires”
on the mental railway
that cogs up and down this “Fatterhorn”

I “fail”
a word I didn't mention

She's disappointed
and says a poet should do better
Ouch
My muse doesn't work that way
I think to myself
Words must be chewed
often a hundred times
like a “faceful” of brown rice
for the macrobiotic crowd
And there are times I must stare
at my wrinkling hands
before putting my “fingers”
on the keyboard
“fingers”
another word I didn't list
plus some words I “fabricated”

Days later I wake in the night
boiling in “F” words
My muse is asleep
I'm wide awake
“feet”
“fancy”
“forgiveness”
I try to think
if I have any dishes to wash
“fruit”
“finality”
“fixtures”
My bed becomes a “flatform”
which doesn't exist as a word
“feckless”
“flounder”
“flatulence”
This is better than morning coffee
I think “fortuitously”

Next year the same thing
though I don't know what letter
she'll select for the test
I promise myself to read
every dictionary
in the next year

My muse just laughs
He says he'll “flash”
all the “fancy” words
I can “facilitate”
to “feel” my way
though the “fields”
of poetry
I “fawn” over his
“felicitous” humor
as I “fixate” on the next dream
“falling” to sleep
“full” of “phantoms”
oops


Barry G. Wick

Monday, August 13, 2018

Measures

Measures

My weekly pillbox
reminds me of the music staff
In each box in the spaces
are the notes of music
prescribed by my doctors
I take them with “water music”
Most of them are whole notes
I only take one half note
splitting a pain pill
that gets me to the library
without my knees drumming
that makes me sing loudly
for all to hear
It sounds oddly like screaming
A modern music
as old as human suffering
I take my notes
with breakfast
at lunch and dinner
and at bedtime
The older one gets
the more others sing along
with this chorus
Drug companies do all the applauding

Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Gaols (Jails)

Gaols (Jails)

Being old
Having a walker
Being in a wheelchair
Being too fat or two thin
Always eating too much
or too little
Missing someone taken away or lost
Lying in bed
Connection to breathing machines
Living with someone you don't love
Living with someone who loves street drugs
Living with someone who loves alcohol
Living with someone who loves someone else
Living with someone who just loves sex
Living with someone too committed to work
Living with someone who only loves money
Living with someone who won't spend money
Living with someone who doesn't like play
Living with someone who only likes pornography
Living with someone who eats too much
Living with someone addicted to self-help groups
Wanting someone who doesn't want you
Wanting more than you will ever have
Living where there are bad neighbors
Living where there are no neighbors
Living in fear of arrest for no reason
Being harassed for just being the wrong color
in a different color neighborhood
Always feeling or being naked
Wanting shoes or simple clothes
Living with a dead-end job and life
Wanting love when you don't have friends
Wanting a friend when you have none
Living alone for years
Wanting to be touched and hugged
Living in a nation that hates you
Living in prison
Living with the memory of your dead family
Living with too much stuff
Having family that doesn't want you
Living in a loveless family
Being blind and not coping
Being deaf and not coping
Neurological and stroke effects
Living without electricity
Living with electricity that costs too much
Always needing water
Floods and fires
these and many more “gaols' (jails)
that citizens of this planet find themselves in
including
being on a planet
so far away from other life-producing planets
that we'll never know
in our lifetimes
or potentially the lifetimes
of our descendants
the jails other beings live in and upon
their planets

The universe creates, captures and destroys
everything in it
yes
the universe is in its own gaol (jail)
unable to get away from itself
and its obsessions
which means
the creator
is in great need
of psychological counseling
eons of it

Barry G. Wick

Monday, August 6, 2018

Crazy


I'm crazy
not raving crazy
not violent crazy
not silent crazy
not wide-eyed crazy
not washing-my-hands crazy
not constantly-itching crazy
not naked-and-running crazy
not obsessed-with-another-person crazy
not obsessed-with-hate-or-love crazy
not chew-my-nails or pick-my-nose crazy
not praying-to-gODD or church crazy
not telling-others-how-to-live crazy
not drama-involved-and-excessive-emotion crazy
however
I'm crazy with crazy
I'm opened-eyes-seeing-the-world crazy
I'm aware crazy
and
I'm not-aware crazy
I see-too-much-and-not-enough crazy
I read about crazies and people who think they aren't
Many people think I'm crazy
They're always wrong twice a day

If I were to tell you I was crazy
I would not be
If I were to tell you I wasn't crazy
I'd be lying

Now you understand the problem
and I'm completely wrong
in that assumption
and that just drives me crazy

I insert a (((sigh))) here
because it's a kind of intake
and exhale of air
that brings clarity to everything that's confusing

honestly, I'm really fond of skin
especially my own
entirely my own
which is probably why
I'm-crazy-alone


Barry G. Wick



Friday, August 3, 2018

Song of the Chicken Canner


Song of the Chicken Canner

Pressure won't you grow
Treasure won't you glow
It's been two long hours
and I'm just about done
Chicken for the winter
Chicken in my pot
Twenty-four quarts
and that's not a lot
Time to make the noodles
Eggs and flour and salt
These processes keep on
and who is John Galt?

Barry G. Wick