Author: Sysadmin

Two poems

“Endurance” by yours truly

Sometimes addiction can seem
An endurance sport.
Nothing to report.
Just keep going
As you must.

“These Things” by yours truly

All these things,
They lay in disarray
About my home.

We met online,
And it was good at the time,
And said we were in love,
But that was not enough.
She broke up eventually.

I got overexcited and bought her
Dresses, a scarf, a purse, and an engagement ring.
Before we had met in person.

The ring.
Here’s the thing:
People can turn against or away from you quickly.
And the gifts meant for her are now in
Disarray.

Some poems

“Pastels” by yours truly

Pastel-colored clouds
In the morning foothills beyond.
The colors are low.
They are vibrant but soft.
Past Elles gone, past.

Thought of a woman I knew
Who dressed sometimes in pastel.
What did I know? What could I tell?
We broke up, oh well.
Not well at the time.
“Hold tight but don’t cling,
Mr. Octopus.”

“Vacuum” by yours truly

Sometimes I would like
To burn my phone —
So many calls either irrelevant
Or just silent when I pick up.
It is like a vacuum when I pick up,
And I don’t mean trying to pick up a woman
Nature does abhor a vacuum.

“Strobe” by yours truly

Small lines of color like tendrils
Can emanate from the main
Bright white light of the flashlight
At night,
Like a strobe light.
It’ll be alright.
Alright.

Two new poems

“Ugly Narcissus” by yours truly

“I am not really ugly. I believe I am handsome in a way.”
“Hmm, ‘handsome in a way.'”
“Let’s sit by the lake and talk a while.”
“‘A while’? About what?”
“Are you Echo? How good I look reflected in the lake.”
“Sir, you are charming but making a mistake
In this lake.”

“Sparkles Two” by yours truly
,
You can see sparkies in the night
Emanating in a spectral circle around
The flashlight’s central white light.

And in the day,
The Sun still plays
With silent firework displays
On the back window of
A nearby parked car.
How near? How far?

A poem and a joke/poem

“Colors” by yours truly

The low small clouds were almost at first light
Over the foothills at 7,000 feet elevation. then
Not white at first.
And the background sky colored from light orange to white.
Play of sunlight?
The rest of the sky is a blanket of grey clouds.
Maybe it means rain?
“Prayes for Rain” -=The Cure
But I do not have a garden.

“Back Then” by yours truly

“Back then I was in better health.”
“Batter health?”
“No, better.”
“Butter health? Maybe olive oil would be a good replacement.”
“No, better health.”
“You seem to have bitter health.”
“Maybe, Dr. Smell-eth.”

a comment and thee poems

Comment on Japan

The Japanese say, “Musshi mushi”
When answering phone calls.
I read that they say the word twice
Because after WWII they had faulty phone service.
So they repeated themselves to be understood on the phone.

Said to two bartenders at a Japanese restaurant in the US that there are three things I like about Japan’s society.

1) Politeness
2) People know the difference between what appears and what is real.
3) There was a third, but I did not get in.

The female bartender laughed softly at the third remark. The male one did not.

Poems

“Chartreuse” by yours truly

Chartreuse liquor will get you there quicker,
The public may snicker,
But let’s not bicker.
The night gets thicker.
Chartreuse: color blending green and yellow.
Stay mellow fellow
Like slices of lime and lemon in the glass,
Sassafras.

“Or” by yours truly

Is it sad because true?
Or is it funny because true?
Sometimes not sure.
Either/or.
Stay pure.

“Mid” by yours truly

Midnight, midnight.
Electric light all night.
Did I (we) know wrong from right?
There is a big middle
Separating us now from another.
Cann there be a recover?

Some poems

“Broken” by yours truly

Broken mug, broken mug.
“Someone needs a hug.”
Broken face. big disgrace.
Only used the mug for pens and other stuff on my desk.
Don’t drink coffee on my desk now.
Putting in a new mug.

“Flashlight” by yours truly

Flashlight or lamp?
Whatever it takes to get through night.
The lamps have broken,
Woe betoken.
Do what you might:
Write by flashlight.

“Boob” by yours truly

“Don’t be a boob
Don’t be a boob.
But if you must
Watch music videos on YouTube.
Don’t be a goop.
Don’t be a goop.
Stop this poop.”
“Let’s end this loop.”

“Migrating” by yours truly

Have migrating pain.
Sometimes in my head,
At times in my back,
Or my lower legs.
And in my brain sometimes
Painful memories remain.
“Pain, pain, go away.
Don’t come back any day.”

“Captain” by yours truly

Captain Ne’er-Do-Well
Has come to save the day!
Oops, actually lost the day.
Shit!

“Terrorist” by yours truly

Police: There is a terrorist on the loose
In this country, and his name is Forrest Gump.
We believe he may be guilty of loving his girlfriend
And speaking in a friendly way with strangers at a bus stop.
Don’t worry. We are on the job and heavily armed.
:

A comment and two poems

I think it is odd how you can lose memory of romance if it does not work out. I think it is better (but also bitter) to keep the memory even if only like a frenemy.

“Broken” by yours truly

Broken mug, broken mug.
“Someone still needs a hug”
” I only need a mug to collect pens
And other items on my desk.”
I don’t drink coffee
On my desk now.
Put in a new mug.

“Flashlight” by yours truly

Flashlight or lamp?
To get through the night?
Whatever it takes
To get through night.
Lamps have broken.
Woe betoken.
Do what you will at midnight
By flashlight.
Alright,
Write in flashlight.

Three poems

“What?” by yours truly

What do you do when you fall down?
What do you? Do you do know?
“When the world is running down,
You make the best of what’s still around.”
–The Police
Might have had more to say,
But what to say?

“Disorganized” by yours truly

A library scattered on the floor
Something you may not ignore.
Yes, reality can be a bore,
But re read them still.
You need them.

“Assemble” by yours truly

Must not have assembled
The mail-ordered desk well.
It creeks every time I use it to stabilize me.
Like a Yoda from Hell.
You know “Star Wars” refences right?

w

s

w

Three poems

“Closing Off” by yours truly

Said this before
In the preface to a book
That some things are too painful
To write about.
It was what Henry Adams
Said in his famous autobiography.
You need discretion.
Sometimes you need to
Close things off.

“Wind Again” by yours truly

Often the winds, the winds, the winds.
What does it portend?
Come inside friend.
This could be the end.
Let’s not pretend.
A message to send.

“Dying” by yours truly

“You’re dying.
I have seen it before in others,” said a kind stranger
As I sat on the ground
Just outside a local grocery
Because my edema made it so hard to walk.
I was not drunk but wanting booze for later.
I gave him $25 to buy me a handle from the store.
He did it.
He helped walk me home,
And he joked he was going to go home and smoke marijuana.

When asked how it felt to know he was dying from terminal cancer, Christopher Hitchens replied, “We are all dying.”

A joke and two brief poems

Totally enclosed pistachio nuts need to go to shell.

“Contrails” by yours truly

Contrails in the sky
From the nearby military base,
Like artificial clouds
That blend in with the real ones.
Training fighter jets,
No regrets.

“Mountain Man” by yours truly

Mountain man.
Do what you can.
Master plan.
Now a big beard.
It itches,
But at this elevation
It helps warm from windy chill.