A Finer Position

Some have made capitalism an issue fer or agin
but I wonder where all these fer or aginers have been.
Capitalism is just another “ism” like socialism
which standing on their own always cause schisms,
but when the two are joined in marital bliss
everyone gets prosperity and no one is missed
in narrowing the gap and leveling the field
and giving everyone an economic shield.
So, lighten up, you hard liners, and forget the “ism”
because making love is always a finer position.

A Silly Sense of Security

“Just treat them as persons,
as human beings,” the writer
wrote — such hopeful words
in the face of the ever, al-
ways face of fear, ever and
always reducing the other
to a dehumanized state in
order to spit on them, beat
them, crush them, destroy
them as threats to those who
don’t know who they are and,
perhaps, never will and so,
actually, are the very ones in
a dehumanized state who
sip their single malt scotch
behind gates with other de-
humanized humans huddling to-
gether in some silly sense
of security until the gates
eventually come down as
gates always eventually
do.

A Pilgrim During Election Time or “Stop The World, I Want To Get Off.”

Breathe in, deeply, slowly.
Breathe out, long and slow
— all the things of which you
need to let go,
all the fluster and bluster
of greedy politicians seeking
personal fame and luster
for their tarnished integrity
and huge egos.
Breathe in, deeply, slowly.
Breathe out, long and slow
and whatever you do,
don’t watch those cacophonous
T.V. talk shows.
Breathe in, deeply, slowly.
Breathe out, long and slow.
Eventually, listening to the music
in your heart of hearts
you will know
the way to go.

A Mouse in the House

Oh, Lord, we have a mouse in the house.
Well, between the walls to be more precise.
We hear, next to the bed, scratching of the mouse
in the wee small hours before the morning light.

Surely, he is making a nest for his mouse spouse
and the little ones for the long winter’s nights.
And while we are gone to our Southwest house
the whole mouse fam-damily will engage in insulation fights.

But this fall if I can find the opening to the house,
I’ll oust the mouse even if he thinks I’m not so nice.
I’ve been a backyard rodent slayer and, if I can oust the mouse,
my wife thinks that will be real nice and suffice.

Grateful for a Caring Government in This Anti-Government Climate

As I think about those four stages of life just put into a poem
below “Eastern Sages’ Stages,” I realize in this climate of anti-
government sentiment just how indebted I am to federal and state
governments for financial aid in all those stages:

Stage One, the student: I had a public school education from
third grade through two years of community college. Kindergarden,
first and second grade, the last two years of college, seminary
through my doctorate were parochial. When my father died when I
was seventeen, I received social security till I was twenty-one,
which helped pay for college.

Stage Two, the householder: my two children received public
school educations through high school and government grants
and loans for college. When my wife died at 48, the government
offered a small death benefit. For the twenty-six years we were
married my wife and I were able to contribute to charitable causes.

Stage Three, the forest dweller: because of social security,
medicare, a state pension and state health insurance along
with our personal pensions and investments, my wife and I were
able to retire and explore life. My wife Chris, retired from
the corporate world as a human resource executive, now is
a fine artist in mixed media sculpture. She is part of a six
women exhibit to be shown in October. I have blogged since
2011, have published one book of poetry and have another
coming out in 2016. My wife and I enjoy the out-of-doors
through life-long activities like jogging, hiking, kayaking,
cycling and camping. We continue to contribute to charitable
causes. None of this could have been possible without the
generosity of the state and federal governments.

Stage Four, the enlightened one: I trust that the
“social contract with America” and “promotion of the
general welfare,” taken seriously through the years by
wise legislators with an understanding of caring
community and the intent of the constitution will
continue to be there for all Americans as my wife
and I ease out of this life and as we seek continue
to “pay back” by “paying it forward.”

I might add that my widowed mother, after my father’s
tragic and untimely death when he was 56, worked two
jobs until she was a recipient of social security,
medicare and eventually medicaid all of which helped
her live safe and securely until she died just shy of
age 93.

Thank you federal and state government of caring
enough to help me and my family move steadily through
the four stages of life.

Eastern Sages’ Stages*

The Eastern sages of Hinduism teach these four
stages of life and no more:
One.) You are the student learning to learn
forever more;
Two.) You are the householder caring
for two, three, four or maybe more;
Three.) You are the free and easy forest dweller
now out of the store;
Four.) You are the wise and fully enlightened one,
not attached and soon to be no more.

*Debts to Richard Rohr’s on-line meditation on Hinduism, 09/18/2015

What Was That?

September 16, 2015,
the Republicans’ second debate,
was, in a word, a thing to denigrate —
denigrating the meaning of debate,
that is.
He doesn’t know how to respond.
He hoped the rules of debate
would show up — better late
than never but never is forever
in this debacle of a debate
and so he turned to the channel
that featured drinking spirits
in foreign countries very late
into the evening of the Republican
non-debate or anything but debate.
What exactly or inexactly was that
which was on so very late?

Post #1225 — “Spit and A Spoiled Tomato”

He spit into the DNA vial, a little
too much (The directions said to stop
at the black line and his brother-in-
law said that he had a hard time com-
ing up with all the spit needed. He
thought that his brother-in-law must
suffer from dry mouth because he had
no trouble accumulating more than
enough.), so he poured into the sink
a little of himself, his mother and
father and grandparents back to his
relatives from approximately 150,000
years ago when they left Africa for
someplace like Kajerkistan, Kazakhstan,
Berzerkistan or Kazbekistan before
striking out for the four corners of
the earth back to all those listed in
the genealogy section of the Bible back
to Adam and Eve (figuratively speak-
ing because the genealogy is a story
the Hebrews told about their creator
God Yahweh rather than literal his-
tory). He stood there thinking about
how fragile life is and how fast it
slips away as he turned on the faucet
and the insinkerator to flush the
spit and a spoiled tomato that was
beginning to smell. He waved goodbye,
figuratively speaking.

The Ethan Allen Sofa and Bed

He rested his bones on the Ethan Allen sofa
inhaling the offending plebian effluvia
wondering from where such smells emanated
and thinking the concoction should be eliminated.

So, he rose from his pose quite sedentary
wondering if a grave was open in the cemetery
only to realize that which caused odoriferous distress
was being prepared in the kitchen by his mistress.

He said, “You, my dear, may leave my domicile soon
but your cooking will linger in the living room
and my wife, with palate so fine,
will let me know the jig is up this time.

So, if we wish to continue our affair with ease,
we’ll have to buy and spray plenty of Febreze.”
His mistress now so offended scooped the dish instead
and exiting the door dumped it all on her ex-lover’s head.

He stood with noodles dripping from his head
and as she slammed the door behind
she informed him that her own shapely behind
would never again rest in his Ethan Allen bed.

Caught By Surprise

The other day, while listening to a
classical music station, the retired

minister heard the syndicated music
host lament that there is so much

commemoration of violence through
war in classical music. Then he said

this most remarkable thing: Aren’t
we supposed to raise our boys to be

pacifists? It caught the preacher by
surprise: a classical music host ask-

ing the question clergy are supposed to
be addressing on Sunday, but aren’t.