Elegy For Mike

Mike was a kid I used to know,
He came to Young Life pretty regularly
I gave him rides,
I hung out with him, Jason and Alex at times.

My wife tells me
his funeral Service notice
is posted on Facebook,
would have been only about 30 years old.
His parents must be heartbroken.

What happened in the past dozen years?
So much living, lived.
Did life unravel on him?
Choice were made, or not made.
Was it an accident,
or was it careless living?
I don’t know.

Now I’m writing a poem about,
a blond haired kid from Saratoga,
a kid whose parents loved him,
who I had some laughs with,
gave some rides to,
had some ice cream with,
drank coffee with in downtown,
just a small slice of life really.
He always seemed a little troubled,
but real and honest
in conversation.

He had called my friend,
at high and low points,
over the past couple years,
filling him in on life.
His life cut short,
is there anything
we could have done?
Maybe,
maybe not.

Regrets may remain,
but the grave does not care
and his parents’ hearts are broken,
with no more memories of Mike to be made.

May 12, 2009
"We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless." ~Paul Bowles

Can’t We Discuss It?

dis·cus·sion
NOUN:
1. Consideration of a subject by a group; an earnest conversation.
2. A formal discourse on a topic; an exposition.

I am a Democrat.
       I am a Republican.
I am a Libertarian.
       I am a Christian.
I am an Agnostic.
       I am a Communist.
I am a Fill-In-The-Blank

Affiliation trumps citizenship.

We are Balkanized,
       Fragmented,
Breaking apart,
       Instead of coming together.
The tectonic plates collide
       No other view
than yours
       Is heard,
Words spewed out,
       Partisanship trumps citizenship.

But, I am an American.

Care is not there.
                    Debate over
                                The person’s feelings,
All that matters is
YOUR            point
YOU

HAVE

TO

MAKE.
You’re Right
        they’re wrong.

You Win
        They lose

But, we’re all Americans.

Can’t be there be discussion?

“But so-and-so is ruining our country.”
                   Not true.
                   We’re Stronger than that.
Check back in 4 to 8 years,
         the country will still be standing.

But will we find understanding?
Will we hear one another?
Will we listen to anything?

        Or             will            our           blathering           voices,
        spouting            out           OUR         OPINIONS
        So                                                       Loud,
        SO VERY LOUD,

Matter more?


Will the other person’s Voice,
                       opinions,

                                  concerns,

                                                     be drowned out?

We are AMERICANS,

Can’t we embrace this common ground?

February 27, 2009

Written because of my frustration with the inability of being able to discuss any politics with out people crushing people’s feelings and only caring about their own opinions, both from the left and the right.  This is especially true of this type of discussion that happens online, on Facebook, Etc.

NaPoWriMo # 30

Written Out

Late night sessions have been a lot of fun.
Now this month’s scibblings are done.
My lines now will be somewhat brief,
They are written with some sense of relief,
Mixed with some feelings of loss,
Later I will have to put on some gloss
On all these poems I have penned,
and now this month has come to an end.
But I will not have my writing suspend.


April 30, 2009