Tag Archives: vows

New Year’s Eve 2004

I may resolve to change my ways this year,
exchange old habits for ones I’ve not tried.
But there’s no point in much of that, I fear,
for one’s true nature cannot be denied.

Perhaps I’ll vow to focus more on things
that increment the positive aspects,
but who knows what the future’s bound to bring?
The lessons never come like you expect.

The truth is, all the seeds for next year’s fruit
would not be useful now unless the ground
for planting them had been already tilled.

My only hope is that the land will suit,
and that the right conditions will abound.
Should that occur, my barn’s already filled.

31 JAN 2004

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Father’s Day

Ultimatums are absurd,
like “I will not write one more word
until those reading clap and say,
‘Bravo!’ and ‘Watch the genius play!'”

The Sufis had it right, I think:
“Don’t name wells from which you won’t drink”;
and yet, to stand aloof and proud
from rabble, sometimes, is allowed

When lines of poesy and wit
Are cast aside, in praise of shit
the gauntlet’s thrown, the challenge made.
Now, let mere pundits be afraid!

The bards of old were greatly feared,
but their kind have all disappeared
and in their place are only found
experiments in time and sound

The erudite, vanity press?
Who reads that stuff, and more or less
who gives a damn for words these days
that speak the truth, when lies are praised?

The torture of the gentle soul
who speaks against such mind control
and casts their nets for bigger fish
and writes exactly as they wish

Is to live in a dull gray place
Where art is schlock and soon defaced
Where schools are meant to churn out rows
of mindless robots too well-clothed

And Music? Who can bear the tune
That blares out Sunday afternoon
Lambasting resting ears with tripe,
vulgarity and guttersnipe

Too loud, the world seeks truth in vain
for it hides behind windowpanes
a throbbing headache from the noise.
It waits for men, and finds, just boys

Who dabble with a word or two
But think of drink and fight and screw
Without the faintest sense of shame
That they know not their father’s names

And yet, this sad, misgotten lot
Who claim a God that knows them not
Will look at me with great distain
As I stand out and smell the rain

Oh, wash this street, and filthy town
destroy its streets, and bear them down
along the river to the sea;
It cannot come too soon for me!

And ultimatums? I refuse
to leave this place, to cede, or lose
until my words, like slow, cruel time
sink in and waken just one mind.

21 JUN 2004

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Untitled: a lai

How many heartfelt vows
have crossed my lips now,
by wrongs I allow
and the petty rows
with swords forged from plows,
seeking sacred cow’s

in the dark days since
the first subtle hints
were seen
of truth, that glints
beneath a thin chintz
(the means
of experience)
and gives evidence
in dreams?

30 MAR 2004

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