Technically
Psychology (Photo credit: 田村)
Technically
The spring that she graduated,
I met her for the very first time.
She was beautiful and so beguiling,
I was silly and talked in rhyme.
I told her very clearly how much
She would always mean to me.
I was convincing as I professed my love
And described our future as she wanted it to be.
I owe her big time, I’ve decided,
Because she brought me out of my shell.
She’d be surprised to know what I’m thinking
Even though she knows me well.
My friends all think I’m crazy.
She’s the only one who thinks I’m sane.
But I can prove I’m as lucid as you,
Though technically I’ve been ruled insane.
Why would one think differently?
I go to work each and every day.
That’s where my best plans are made.
That’s why I continue to stay.
My boss keeps me from advancing.
He says he protects me like his own son.
But I know he’s not telling the truth,
Because there haven’t been any battles he’s won.
My wife and I don’t discuss things any more.
I refuse to listen as she states her point of view.
She’s overweight and filled with hate,
She has none of the sweetness that’s in you.
It is evident my love didn’t last forever.
I told her this morning that she and I were through.
She’ll look great in her pretty black dress,
Lying silently by me and you.
English: A452 Europa Way, Warwick Portentous offices and ‘tree’ sculpture on the Tachbrook Park business park. First occupied by the Heart of England Building Society who were taken over by the Cheltenham & Gloucester. They now house a large firm of solicitors, Wright Hassall. The area is technically in Warwick but feels more like south Leamington. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Save a Bag of Popcorn for Me
Popcorn icon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
She reminded me of popcorn,
Never knowing how to relax,
Jumping up and ready to go,
Moving to the max,
She could dance all night,
All eyes glued to her every move,
That’s the way it always was,
As she got into her groove,
I could see other men wanted her,
But I had no time for jealousy,
For no matter what anyone said or did,
She always went home with me,
She treated me like I was special,
I honored her as my queen,
I loved her on the weekends,
And all the days between,
She wasn’t a prima donna,
She was always at my side,
She was my best friend, lover, wife,
I could not disguise my pride,
A doctor broke the news one day,
She had a suspicious bump,
There was nothing to do but wait and see,
It turned out to be a cancerous lump,
The cancer had metastasized,
But we pretended she was free,
Until death claimed her one day,
And ripped my heart from me,
The only woman I ever loved,
Was taken too early from me,
I am left with empty arms,
And with only her memory,
Every time I hear that familiar pop,
And see popcorn start to jump,
I brush the tears from my eyes,
As I remember that awful bump,
Her final words before she left,
“I’ll love you, dear, for all eternity,
So enjoy life, whether short or long,
And save a bag of popcorn for me.”
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“Please Wait!”
Image via Wikipedia
Six Predicaments (2/6)
1) John stood on the ledge waiting to plunge,
A crowd gathered below,
Waiting for him to make his big lunge,
He moved a few steps searching for traction,
The timing was not quite right,
He called his wife wanting her reaction,
When he told her he loved her without any lies,
Wanting her to know that he lost his job,
He was tense and irritable, But to his surprise,
He heard, “Please wait until your party is found,”
And then music he didn’t like boomed in his ear,
He didn’t want elevator music on his way down,
He let the waiting rescuers come near,
He heard, “We help everyone in our town,”
Despite all the news about John’s desperate act,
Some people thought he was being dramatic,
And said he had a tendency to overreact,
His wife went to her mother’s for a week or two,
John wonders if she’ll ever come home,
Because she’s long overdue.
2) Flames were reaching higher and higher,
Eduardo called 911 screaming, “My children are in there,
Please don’t let this be a funeral pyre!”
A voice rang clear, “Please wait because we have pranksters about,
We’ve had several people call in tonight,
So all our engines are already out,
Tell me one more time what is your plight?”
Fortunately others had seen the glow,
He stammered and stuttered,
In his excitement his words did not flow,
Fire trucks returning were diverted and sent,
Firemen arrived to see the house in dire straits,
Through smoke and flames three firemen went,
They found one child, two, and then another,
They were carried out safely,
The two girls were okay, and so was their brother,
They lost their home, their belongings, their bed,
But when all was considered and done,
They were lucky to be alive instead.
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Death and Destruction
Image via Wikipedia
Death and Destruction
I chose to be open, knowing what could happen right from the start,
Without the protection of stone walls I had a vulnerable heart,
And when death and destruction arrived on the very same day,
I took them in voluntarily, that’s all I can say,
My heart was unguarded and death’s attack was swift,
Vicious puncture wounds were left and the sudden lift,
Blood draining, life waning, in the aftermath was fear,
Destruction’s devices were different, slow, abrasive, and clear,
Humiliation, fear of being left, or not being good enough,
My heart struggled to find even ground, somewhere out of the rough,
Without someone to lean upon I searched for ways to reach the sky,
But loneliness filled my nights while my unfulfilled dreams marched by,
Yet when mornings brought the sun I smiled as I soaked in the heat,
Each day I faced the world again with many experiences to greet,
Neither love’s demise nor slow destruction would pin me for long,
I was determined to love again for my heart still pounded strong,
Though wave after wave had crashed against my heart’s core,
I still stood, a lighthouse beaming from the ravished shore,
As I round another turn, it’s clear what lies ahead,
I could wind up with the roses, or eat dust again instead,
Love will forward surge even beyond the finish pole,
For I will give what it takes to reach my own true goal,
Love marches on with opportunities life so freely gives,
I’ll stay the course and keep on track, for love in my heart still lives.
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Tales From One Warm Summer Night (Part 1)
Image via Wikipedia
My heart beat faster one warm summer night,
When four friends and I exchanged tales around a fire,
Connie leaned forward in her chair,
“There are fairies dancing there,
Around the old oak tree,
A place that’s magical for them and me,”
Her brown smoldering eyes held me still,
I searched their depths until I had my fill,
“Fairies cast spells on strangers passing through,
Using their magic to make dreams come true,”
Connie, her raven black hair shining in the moonlight,
Said, “I’ll tell you more, later in the night,”
Jim cleared his throat, glanced at the others, then at me,
“I’ll tell you a story about terror at sea,
Of pirates who changed from their plundering ways,
Experienced old salts brave and crusty as they be,
Who saved their own lives by tossing treasures into the sea,”
He paused for a moment to catch his breath,
“Then I’ll close with a ship named ‘DEATH’,”
Rhonda stood up and with a shy little grin,
“I want to tell you about heroic women and their wild, wild men,
How they conquered the West with love, tears, and sweat,
Overcame their fears and stood up to threats,”
Bill couldn’t resist telling about wars with blood and gore,
“Freedom is always worth fighting for,”
He hesitated as if he wanted his words to sink in,
“There’s a change as boys become men,
Cannons boom constantly and tanks shake their world around,
Every man becomes braver as he crosses contested ground,”
I listened and waited to share a truth that was stark,
I wanted to tell them about danger that lurked in the dark,
My story had been forgotten and I lost my chance to speak,
For growls were getting closer and my stomach was getting weak,
I gasped and stuttered but nothing they could understand,
They continued with their stories as I wrung my hands,
Connie looked at me apprehensively, as if I was mad,
“I see you’re preparing your story, but your acting is bad,”
There were murmurs of agreement as she continued her tale,
“The fairies were delighted to find one day,
A knight tired from his journey, under the oak he lay,
On his way to the castle he had fallen asleep,
His mission was to rescue a princess from the keep,
The fairies laughed, they danced, they cast a spell,
They wanted their magic to serve him well,
For he would soon face the witch and the evil queen,
Brave knights who’d gone before were never again seen,
The fairies wove a multi-colored cloak from spider webs and dew,
If he wore it at the castle it would hide him from view,
A second spell they bestowed before he awoke,
The next two he kissed would go up in smoke,”
Her story was entertaining and the fire was going out,
But Jim looked sullen and was beginning to pout,
“Go ahead, Jim,” I said, “I’ll throw more wood on the fire,
Continue your story about the treasures pirates aquire,”
Uneasily I studied the woods for the terror it contained,
While my friends shared the fire and with stories entertained,
“After a brief skirmish with one of the king’s battleships,
The pirates disappeared into the fog and gave them the slip,
They plundered the coast, found treasures to steal,
Escaped angry husbands, had rum and good meals,
The tars watched a hundred sunsets as they traveled by boat,
Then the pirates crossed the Atlantic to lands remote,
Found Spanish ships loaded with gold from the new world received,
The pirates fired their cannons and the gold relieved,
And off they sailed thinking they were safe from harm,
But a hurricane was brewing and no one sounded the alarm,”
While he gathered his breath to go on with his tale,
Rhonda couldn’t wait one minute longer,
“The men in my story were strong, but the women were stronger,
From Boston and New York the men went west,
Looking for adventure, for gold, or land at its best,
Towns sprang up overnight with guns making the law,
It was easy to be dead or quick on the draw,
The last place of civilization was named Kansas City,
Men venturing west beyond that were given no pity,
Uncivilized, untamed, life always in the rough,
If a woman dared go west she had to be tough,
She plowed by day, ran her household by candlelight,
Bore her babies at home, and fought for her rights,
In the fields or on the porch she carried a gun,
But in the bedroom at night most battles were won,
Those feisty women changed each odious law,
Against those in petticoats stubborn men would withdraw,”
“A nice history lesson, Rhonda,” Bill said, “Now it’s my turn,
There was a young man who had much about war to learn,
Both sides agreed about Christmas Day, so soldiers ceased fire,
No guns were deadly as they crossed over barbed wire,
Troops celebrated together but before the sun went down,
Soldiers took their positions and prepared for another round,
Deadly combat began early the next day,
Friends became enemies, no mercy did they display,
This young man, eighteen at most, charged a machine gun nest,
Dodged bullets as he ran, but was more scared than the rest,
He was tired of seeing his friends shot down,
So he dashed across and conquered the ground,
He didn’t want to be a hero but what else could he do,
The war was not over and his job was not through,”
Stories of fairies, heroic women, war and the sea,
Were all suspended while my friends waited for me,
All the people in these stories marched upon imagination’s stage,
Yet a few feet away, more than enough to fill a page,
There was a story ready to unfold,
About a creature hungry and bold,
Perhaps I was the only one who could see,
Those long fangs and those eyes glaring at me,
I had listened and waited and I wanted to share,
But I was transfixed by that malevolent stare,
I wanted to ask if this was but a dream,
Because if it was real, I needed to scream,
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Common Threads
Image by AnnaKika via Flickr
Woven
through our lives were common threads,
They were almost alike but were not the same,
Some strands
we followed that nowhere led,
As we chased
dreams of fortune and fame,
There were truths and lies we often said,
But life
gave each of us a different game,
Life’s fabrics
were woven and pieces shred,
When money
talked and called your name,
I have no regrets
for all that could have been,
I avoided
risks that would have brought me shame,
My love was not
squandered at slightest whim,
Our common threads
were not spun the same,
You flirted
with danger, went out on a limb,
Looked for
easy wealth that was lying around,
Tried to convince
yourself how life was grim,
When things
went awry and no money was found,
You wanted
to stay young, all fit and trim,
While you
waited for your ship to come in,
You hovered
at the edge of life’s rim,
Never
thinking about loss, just expecting to win,
Common
threads woven were not the same,
I discovered
that money couldn’t buy everything,
Your threads
spelled out a different name,
You got your
diamonds and had your fling,
I made choices
and my story became mine alone,
You were
convinced my decisions were rash,
But relationships
were important and I had grown,
I could not
compromise and turned down hard cold cash,
Threads were
woven into a pattern of my own,
You needed
more than I had to remain my friend,
All the love
we had shared and ever known,
Could not
keep us together at the end,
But you were woven into my life,
My heart still
dreamed and called your name,
Your absence
cut through me like a knife,
Common
threads woven were not the same,
I sometimes wondered how many threads,
Needed to be
woven to make you strong,
And how weak
would I be if I continued alone,
Our lives
turned out differently and oh, so wrong,
Life offered
you riches and you sold out,
Money was
more important than us being we,
At death you’ll
leave it all behind, I have no doubt,
As death
wraps us both, you’ll have the same threads as me.
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The Old Elephant and Sirius
Image via Wikipedia
Dust rose
into the air as the elephant shuffled along,
With every
step she sang a traditional song,
A song she’d
heard long ago as an elephant child,
A song she
hadn’t thought about in quite awhile,
“As I travel
on my way I’ll chant every word,
I’m too old
to stay with the elephant herd,
The Elephant
Graveyard will be my resting place,
No more
lions or crocodiles will I face,
Death is
close, I can feel it in my bones,
I must
remember the placement of the stones,
Thousands of
my ancestors have come this way,
I must join
them, perhaps this very day,”
A gruff
voice interrupted the elephant’s reverie,
“Where are
you going? You can walk with me,”
She had not
noticed the wild dog loping by her side,
He asked, “Do
you need a friend in whom you can confide?”
He’d heard
elephants go somewhere when they’re old or sick,
He was sly,
that wild dog, and he thought of a trick,
“I only want
to help you,” he said, “don’t get me wrong,
But didn’t I
just hear you chanting a song?”
He urged her, “Perhaps your destination you’d like to share,”
“If I told
you I’d have to stomp you,” she said with an angry stare,
He knew she
was old and he lost his sense of fear,
But he made
a mistake when he thought she couldn’t hear,
He mused
aloud, “I know why she’s walking here all alone,
If I follow
her, I could discover a lot of precious bones,
A veritable
treasure trove I might share with my pack,
They’d have
a lifetime supply, no bones would they lack,”
She listened
carefully as he made his evil plan,
He didn’t
care if it was the elephants’ sacred land,
By then she’d
heard enough from that greedy dog,
She hurled
him far, just like he was a tiny log,
Some say he
never returned, nor did he ever die,
Some say he
watches for bones way up in the sky,
They call
him Sirius, the dog that once took flight,
Sirius, the
Dog star, the brightest star at night.
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Death Is Waiting
Image via Wikipedia
Death is waiting for me,
But it’s not time yet,
He is peering through the
veil,
But I’m not set,
He’s visited me over the
years,
Called my name,
Tried to convince me,
To play his game,
But I had too much to do,
Death had to wait,
Until I finished my
earthly tasks,
Then I’d enter death’s
gate,
See where the curtain has
ripped?
He stares at me,
But I do not fear death’s
gaze,
For I cannot be,
Part of his entourage,
No, not today,
He’ll have to wait behind the veil,
I’m going to stay,
Try to complete my list of
things to do,
Until my final breath,
When my list is done, I’ll
welcome,
The spectre called death.
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The Son Will Rise
Image via Wikipedia
I’ve never enjoyed the heat of day, and tried to avoid the light,
It was easier to take what I wanted, in the dead of night,
I slept through the dawning, I hated the bright sunrise,
Night’s cloak of darkness was safer, to use my deceit and lies,
Like the others, my hopes were on a ferocious king,
If the Romans were driven out, prosperity it would bring,
Then the world would notice, and make up for years of loss,
But now I’ve had time to think, while I’m hanging on a cross,
I was curious about the stories I’d heard,
So I followed this man who taught the word,
I joined a group who was eager to hear,
He spoke boldly about God, his father, without any fear,
But there was more to learn, to our surprise,
He performed miracles right before our eyes,
At a wedding in Cana, Jesus was asked to provide more wine,
Normally it took money and lots of time,
I thought that was a strange request,
But he obliged his mother after a slight protest,
I watched the servants filling six waterpots,
And saw the ruler’s expression at what they brought,
Jesus was a man of action when there was a need,
He drove the merchants from the temple when he saw their greed,
The Jews were angry and wanted to know why,
“This is my father’s house,” was his angry reply,
During this time it seemed the world had gone mad,
People were hoping for a leader, someone strong and bad,
Jesus was popular among the people and drew great crowds,
But he talked of peace and heaven, and warned of being proud,
John the Baptist declared that Jesus was the one,
Who was sent by the Father, to die as his son,
I was seeing many miracles, yet I dared not believe,
For the crimes I had committed, great punishment I should receive,
I didn’t always follow Jesus, sometimes I stayed in town,
I could steal the most when Jesus wasn’t around,
Because I usually stole at night, I rarely saw the sun,
It was not until people began to wake, that my work was done,
I didn’t agree with Judas that Jesus should be turned in,
Despite my disbelief he was the Christ, I considered him my friend,
I was careless and got caught, stealing during the day,
Thrown into prison and left waiting, while Jesus was away,
There was news of the arrival of a new-found king,
It had to be Jesus, for I heard the hosannas ring,
He would overcome the Romans, with God at his side,
I wish I could have seen him then, but I was locked inside,
“Don’t worry,” said another thief, who was there with me,
“According to Judas, Jesus will hang for all to see,”
“That can’t be true, he’s done no wrong,” I said in dismay,
“We deserve what we got, we know crime doesn’t pay,”
In my dreams I saw my life, and I didn’t like what I could see,
I would taste the bitter cup of death, hanging on a tree,
I was nailed to a cross, along with the other thief,
Another cross went up, I could feel the sorrow and grief,
I believe that Jesus was born to bring truth and grace,
Barabbas should have died, but Jesus took his place,
“Jesus, I deserve to die for the things I have done,
Lord, remember me when your kingdom comes,”
Tomorrow is another day, but I won’t see the rising sun,
I expect before the break of day, my life will be done,
Before I became a witness to the light,
I was a common thief who stole in the night,
At that time I didn’t understand the reason why,
An innocent man was condemned to die,
I’ve always known I’d die someday in terrible agony,
But I believe the Son will rise, in spite of you and me.
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Dying to Live or Learning to Die
Image via Wikipedia
Dying to Live or Learning to Die
(Sorry, I couldn’t make up my mind)
I might be around for quite a few years,
So don’t shed any tears,
Oh, for goodness sake,
Give me an Irish wake,
Or bake a large cake,
I’ve been dying since the moment I was born,
A finite length somewhere in eternity,
Not that anyone said that to me,
But I knew life was limited like a blade of grass,
When my time was up I expected to pass,
I didn’t want to close my mind,
Facing death is but a challenge to find,
The other side, without the fear,
Of leaving here,
I was taken from my mother’s womb,
Uncomfortable there with little room,
To grow, and do you know,
I’m being crowded again,
With my limitations and eager to emerge,
Into a new world, I’m on the verge
I’m ready to face, or even embrace,
Death when it comes for me,
Like going to sleep and awakening in another place,
But for now I want to live every minute of every day,
Not worrying about the ifs and whens,
Ready to confront death with a grin,
Not fearful at all, knowing it will happen,
Sooner or later, maybe not today,
And it might not be my way
I might want to take a snooze or die on a cruise,
Take medicines to keep me sane,
Or just sit back and let my life wane,
You can help me by showing love and support,
Take out the trash, give me a glass of port,
I don’t need to see you cry, or to know why,
You think you’re going to miss me,
My passing will set you free,
I don’t want to take care of you,
I’ve got enough to do,
Keeping death from snuffing my wick,
Hey! Remember I’m the one who is sick!
I have faith that there is life after death,
I have my hope, and that helps me cope,
I’d like to see you there too,
Not just another molecule,
Returning back to dust,
But if you must, you must,
How much time do I have really?
I enjoy life, but how time flew,
I was ready to give life up long ago for you,
But I didn’t have to,
I’ve lived a full life, faced a little strife,
And discovered much about me,
But don’t you see, that’s vanity,
I want to have a normal day, the best,
Go home and get some rest,
Get my life in order, no unfinished business,
No unsettled mess,
I don’t intend to leave you all alone,
I’ll be watching, helping you atone,
All the times you thought I wasn’t a great friend,
I want you to know I was the best I’ve been,
And whatever you say or do, remember I loved you,
Play some music on my last days,
Or read me a book about how to mend my ways,
Tell lies about telling the truth,
Laugh and share things with Ruth,
Wait a minute! I don’t know any Ruth, that’s the truth,
Tell me funny stories or remind me of stories I still need to write,
But I’m afraid that would keep me up throughout the night,
I can see me now, waiting with my laptop in bed,
Wanting you to remember the last words I said,
It’s hard to type with these clumsy fingers of mine,
“They’re coming for me, it’s about time,
I’m waiting in line,
Oops! I’m out of time. Don’t forget to write!
Call me sometime!
Okay! I’m going already.
Uh, could I tell one more story or write a poem?”
Written in response to my own thoughts about death and dying, knowing that I don’t know what tomorrow might bring, should tomorrow even come. I’ve tasted hell a few times here on earth, and decided I don’t want the full menu. I tell people that every day above ground is a good day and I say, “Thank God, I’m alive!” I’m reminded daily of all the good things here and better things yet to come. When you get to the pearly gates, I want to be there to greet you with a smile and say, “I’m glad you made it. There’s a place reserved for you. Take off your shoes and stay awhile. Don’t worry about the weather. It won’t get too hot or too cold and Hell storms never make it up the hill.”
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- Rest In Peace (ericswett.wordpress.com)
- Being ‘mindful’ can neutralize fears of death and dying (sciencedaily.com)
- How Writing Helps Us Cope With Death (huffingtonpost.com)
