mornings
shaking
ever so slightly
it's four a.m.
and cold outside
so rise
slowly
as though dipping your toe
in the pool
as from the blanket
the warm blue robe trails
leaving
a cocoon
of warmth
for you
mornings are difficult
dry mouth
cracking lips
red eyes
running on a lack of sleep
and i would prefer
if i did not have to wake
and deal
with everyday life
shaking fingers
assemble an outfit
wishing
for the comfort
of warmth
drowsy
sunshine
and the scent
of baby powder
and freshly washed sheets
flip over my long tangled hair
and hook the bra
search for a pair of warm pants
a uniform shirt
check if i have everything i need
walk out
my sanctuary
breakfast sizzles
in the kitchen
as plates clank
so i partake
of the feast laid out before me
although
i am not yet hungry
survival instincts
i suppose
somehow
i have kept moving
my will
has not yet weakened
to the point of death
yet i still
would rather
be asleep
forever
yet another day has begun
why
News News News
Out of control
No other advice
A.I. supreme
Actual price
Corporates are entities
On their own
Gorging growth and profit
Without peoples scorn
Smartphones are an extension
Off the New Self
Provide everything
No other help
Too late to change
Nanorobots on the way
Life as we know it
Another day. James P Kinsella ©
$☆Crump☆$
Between these
Four walls
The lights dim as
I shout
I pace and I crawl
I bleed out in doubt
There’s pages unseen
And pages unknown
A book that is written
Yet not fully shown
I really don’t know
How to calm
The fuck down
Head in the clouds
Feet reaching
For ground
A trial by fire
A flame
For the masses
As the court
Of your sire
Is flicking
The matches
They pull on the strings
Your arm raises up
They pour and
Serve the drink
You reach for the cup
Eyes blinking with
Anxiety
Enough is enough
To Hell with
Sobriety
This bullshit is rough
I break down
And rebuild
As you take
What you want
Payroll locked and sealed
All my hard work
You haunt
The systems all
Wrong
And fuckin deranged
And seems
So far gone
To believe in
A change
You blow on
Your trumpet
Yes these words are true
I will just say fuck it
And not bow
To you
Not an elephant
Nor a donkey
They’re all pigs
With a crump
My only hope
Is America can
Depend
On a Trump
Daniel
Jacob
Dabney
And
My
Fucked
Up
Mind
November
2016
Sunday Meditation: Jo-Lynn & Jim
It was my wife’s birthday this week. I sent her flowers. Where she works. She says she was surprised. I hope so.
Here’s how the florist described the arrangement: “Beautiful blooms such as blue hydrangea, crème roses, white lilies and alstroemeria along with yellow and white chrysanthemums, eucalyptus, limonium and more are beautifully arranged in a dazzling cobalt blue vase.”
I don’t even understand what most of that means, though I did get a few words: Blue, white, and yellow. (Those are colors, right?)
Let’s move on . . .
Sending Jo-Lynn flowers was no great shakes. That’s what people do for people they love. Except I never really understood the idea of killing something beautiful in nature to show somebody else that you love them. Nope. No entiendo. Je ne comprends pas. Ich verstehe nicht.
No matter. Over the past 41 years of marriage—yes, we’ve been married that long—I've come to understand that my wife (partner, companion, friend, lover, mother of my children) liked flowers. I had two choices: Ignore the obvious or embrace it. Guess what I did . . .
Is there a life lesson here? Maybe, “Yes.” Maybe, “No.”
In addition to celebrating her birthday with flowers, my wife and I went out for dinner and a movie: “Florence Foster Jenkins,” starring Meryl Streep. Heartbreaker of a film. Go see it. Streep is bound to be nominated for another Oscar.
Why do I mention the movie?
Because I picked it, though it’s not the kind of flick I’d typically go see. Guess who I thought might like it? Yup. My Honey Pie. And the restaurant? Has a nice prime rib. Her favorite. (Me? I had burger and fries. Yes, I’m “That guy.”)
This little write-up may not sound profound. Or lovey-dovey. Or squishy-wishy. But, hey. It’s practical. When we first got married, my wife and I were two little fishies swimming in the same sea, but each singin’ our own song and dreamin’ our own dream. Now? We’re like a seasoned pair of dancers, anticipating each other’s move. Or a top-rate QB-WR combo, like Ben Roethlisberger and Antonio Brown. (“Go Steelers!”)
One more thing. (There’s always one more thing with me, isn’t there?) We had Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 read out loud at our wedding:
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?
And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”
Did that make a difference?
You tell me . . .