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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 560 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.

Thursday, December 29, 2022

On the Porch

On the Porch

The winter sun is low
In the warmer afternoon.
I think about
What I sew.
Wispy clouds hang overhead,
The sky's tangled thread.
Snow melts to send
Rivulets of water
Down sides of the street.
Slight wind damage to the home
Next to me has peeled
The skirting down half the side
Which faces me with a reason
To call the office to complain.
No no no. I'm not that sort.
My complaints are about me.
They cover my eyes before sleep
To wonder about all my poor choices
And the basics of my gay life
Or lack of it now.
Old men need partners that began
In the warm days of life
When porches never needed me.
Sunny life follows those days
As two men should follow each other.
I lived in fear of everything around me.
Every thought was a question.
Then the day came I stood for myself.
It was just a minute.
Those seconds have guided these years
Into the quiet and alone.
I make my peace with those I hurt
Many mostly in silence.
There's no one to call.
There's no one to help with dishes
Or to share the handle of a vacuum.
Now the breeze gets colder.
The sun is deep in the West.
So I am needing to find some warmth
Off the porch to be forgotten.

Barry G.Wick


Monday, December 19, 2022

Evolutionary Tears

Evolutionary Tears

Behold!  Oh stop with the religious angelisms.
To the future I listen from rhombic speakers.
I float in the air like Caesar's thirty molecules
Brushing through your veoli in search
Of mushroom seeds and rabbit turds.
I am still a being in the time of solar dawns
That tear at atoms releasing their contents,
A bag corn chips scattered on pavement
Trampled by oxen that pull covered wagons
Made of glass and unknown metals.
My descendants settle in cracks 
In the concrete of black holes and super giants.
I disturb all conventions with a dedicated thought.
Monster of Motion, be not still at the end.
Your fight against the calm goes on
As it screams for me to hear its familiar octaves.

Barry G. Wick


Wednesday, December 14, 2022

Freedoms

Freedoms

This is a time of confusions
When people are full of delusions
Their freedom is all
They want a tall wall
Between them and other's conclusions

Barry G. Wick

Wednesday, December 7, 2022

The Piano Man's Money

The Piano Man's Money

I know the song. The words didn't click for me when music was the Empire State of mind.  I did play piano before these dwindling word-soaked days.   A synth in the middle bedroom has 64 keys.  Good enough for sensual Bach.  I wish I had a piano with 88 writhing keys, hot and loose.  There are many free. I can barely move groceries and know few muscled lovers.  There's hire it done, but wealth escapes me faster than honey scooped by a greedy remover attacked by bees.

Barry G. Wick

Tuesday, December 6, 2022

First Base

First Base

The calling to an old 
Form of paranoia
Has me suspicious
Out of my day
And having conversations
In my mind
With people I hardly know
/
Who are you
I say to my imaginary nemesis
There is no answer
Because he doesn't know himsf
Inside my head
Which probably says
More about me than the person
Who occupies my imagination

So I travel.though all the possibilities
As related to my own history
With other paranoid people
Who studied me in another life
I had been lassoed by circumstances
I couldn't say no to
I grit my teeth realizing
The mess I'm in now

I can't say no to the new attacker
Who is likely just as lonely
Why would anybody
Want to meet me in this state
This magic of love will defeat itself
In a whirlwind of dust and smoke
From neurons rubbing themselves
That starts fires in the heart
Or wherever emotions
Lay at the bases of mind.and body

Barry G. Wick