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Moon Shot - more poems March 2022

Writer's picture: catfer87catfer87

Updated: Mar 25, 2022


Portrait of Me as a Writer


I decided to leave the world of work

as a pizza slinger as a mail clerk

to go to college

the get the piece of paper

ran into a teacher who on the first day

of class handed out a different photograph

to each of us with the instruction

write a description of the photograph

specific enough so someone could read

and envision the photograph

without seeing it. so I did

two days later he handed back the papers

to everyone but me

asked me to meet him in his office

after class I thought great

1st assignment and I'm already in trouble

he asked me to sit down

I asked him how bad did I screw up

you didn't screw

I actually think you have the talent

to be a writer

I'm not making any promises

I'm not talking Earnest Hemingway

but I think you have talent

and I'm going to do everything I can

to develop that talent

I told him I have no interest in being a writer

thus the battle of the Titans began



the summer boys

wore hot chucks

and cut off jeans

on summer streets

the summer girls

in loose fitting

peasant blouses

strutted toward

the lions

tigers and horses

dancing

on the carousel

near the bandstand

the swimming pool

the base and basket

ball field and court

love steam rose off

all the park benches




Caveat Emptor


Gus said this came

from the founding fathers

you know the ones with

the slaves and shady

business associates

Caveat Emptor let the

buyer beware keep

your eye peeled for an

insurance or used car

salesman the job of

the businessman is to

stick it up your ass

and it’s strictly up to

the customer to prevent

that from happening

a time old tradition

passed down by the founding

fathers to the poor

schleps on the streets



Getting My Story Together


For the better part

of my life

pre drunk drunk and sober

I been gathering

the bits and pieces

of my story

minor and major

good and bad

happy and sad

weighted down by

psychiatric maladies

charging fearlessly

or witlessly into the fracas

of the abyss putting

the words on pages

the pages between covers

romance and rejection

victories and miserable defeats

putting together

the elements of a life

organized and collated

to hand to the librarian

on my way down the chute





I didn't have any kids.

Apparently

God does

know what he's doing !











Moon Shot


Gus said he’s heard folks

say things like shoot the

moon but never could figure

what that meant

other than

bare your ass to the world

but he

found himself often take

a moon shot going after

trying to tag and claim

a few of the countless

precious hopes

and dreams that populate

the surface of the moon

of love romance carnal

knowledge friendship

lost relationships melancholy

moods hope optimism

peace civility compassion

joy satisfaction fulfillment

and the holy cow that

nightly jumps over the moon




Slow day at Bed Rock.

Preacher got defrocked

for consorting with a mule.

Said it was true love

what inspired him to bugger

that animal from behind.




Ambivalence


Can't tell whether its left

or right or up or down

I want to go

don't know anymore

whether

its the extreme hot

or the extreme cold

that repulses me more

don't know if I'm beginning

to lose my edge

or if I'm headed

in an altogether new

direction at what I do

I do know I view the sun

and clouds

with equal disdain

and rain and snow with

just as much contempt

waking in the morning

just another rude awakening



Broken Heart


My heart broke into

countless pieces

the pain was

excruciating

I wished for death

but death did not come

I lost my appetite

I lost my self esteem

could have wiped up

my self respect

with a tissue from the floor

but somehow I survived

to have my heart broken

again

and again

each time no less painful

than before

but each time I survived

and now that these

heart breaks

are decades behind me

they've

taken on a romance

a romantic melancholy

that brings shape and depth

a strength of tone

to my range of feeling

to my range of emotion

to almost die

an emotional death

and survive



The Lights Went Down


It wasn't a blackout

because

the lights stayed on

so it must have been

a brownout

because

the lights went down

the lights went low

down low

to almost yellow

gave everything

an eerie look in shades

in unexpected shadows

in window boxes

plants in door frames

in almost night

seem to bring clouds down

from a heavy sky to loom

on the streets

in almost light

made some neighbors

nervous

afraid this might be

armageddon the apocalypse





City Light




At the bottom of the city

way beneath the skyline

there are dark alleys

where rats reign supreme

under jaundiced street lights

small rooms in large

buildings with dim lights

women selling

their bones for crack

men selling their hands

and lips for heroin

thugs rolling widows and

senior citizens

for their monthly checks

second story men breaking

into ground floor rooms

too lazy to climb the stairs

victims of angry knives

bleeding on the sidewalk

poets and musicians hiding

out pretending that

armageddon has not yet arrived




Sirens



I hear the sirens

I see the ambulances

and police cars

responding to blood

heart attack

murder emergencies

destination morgues

and hospital ERs

the swill of after hours

the swill of after life

I hear the sirens

singing to me

from the rocks just

off the sea

I am tempted sorely

to swim to them

and drown just

about half way where

I will become

the swill

of pleasant dreams




Street Trade



Affairs and infidelity are

open play

fair game

the painted whores and

street trade

are kept away

from the hotel bars lobbies

restaurants

to maintain a facade

of common grace

and respectability

to keep the married men

from making

an all out dash to the streets

the whores

with exciting painted faces

exposed breasts

accentuated asses

forbidden excitement across

the street

men leaving the wives sitting

in the restaurants






I wasn't the sharpest

knife in the drawer

to begin with, now

I'm starting feel like

I'm losing my edge.



Ashley Judd says

'nights are

a savage agony’

good enough

for her

good enough for me





Micro Mini Stroke


started noticing

some tremors in his hands

that worsened as days

and weeks went by

then lost his sense

of balance

that sent him careening

down the stairs

sent his head into

the landing wall

made his legs dessert him

introducing him

abruptly to the street

to sidewalk

and other earth surfaces

first neurologist he went to

sent him for physical therapy

the balance came back

but hands kept on shaking

got told he had Parkinsonism

not disease but ism

next neurologist he went

to see

scanned his brain

found some spots of blood

told him he’d had a Micro

Mini Stroke

and that’s what caused

the tremors and dancing

fingers in his hands

also found a significant

accumulation

of some white shit

around his brain stem

another neurologist diagnosed

him subnuclear something

or other

that would have him dead

within two years

but before that he would lose

the ability to walk, talk, eat,

and eventually think

the next neurologist told him

he didn’t have

a micro mini stroke

Parkinson’s Parkinsonism

or

subnuclear whatever it was

what he did have was too

much medication

to keep his bi-polars in line





Parade


I expected to see

a continuous

parade of

raven haired

tan skinned

shapely women

cocoanut breasts

beach ball butts

swaying hips

but it was only

to be

in my mind

along the six

tiered

walkway around

the abandoned

Normandy Hotel

hundreds of them

dancing naked

with luscious

Carmen Miranda

fruit baskets

on their heads











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