Poem: Programmed


Going round and round

in the barrel

so

when you dump

me out

I still run

in circles

programmed to

endlessly follow

the pattern

set for me

when caged in the

garbage can

where I was

caught

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Poem: The Unexpected


Walk slowly into the day

feet firmly planted

on the solid ground

one

ahead

of the other

Before the earth

tilts

and everything begins

rushing

at warp speed

into a completely

unrecognizable

world

Poem: The New Story


There comes a time

when the violent voices

that knock

into your hungry head

and talk and talk

at the dark matter

which is not a matter of fact

Time stops in a sudden

car crashing

coup contrecoup

brain slamming

amnesia

Then

wake up

with light gulping pupils

seeing newborn truth

Little rapid breaths

tasting warm honest words

that swam inside

the cranial cradle

Sleep walking once

now

jammed into mind shattered morning

Good day

Stay in front

new blood rush noise

to fill the sound

of those wicked

tales told

Just walk forward

and up up up

 

Poem: The Waiting Room


What if we all were caught

together in a place

You with the purple legs

falling fast asleep between

the snorts and sniffy drool

and the woman who talks endlessly

on a phone she cannot use

While the rest of us

quietly swim in our own small worlds

Or watch the woman just over there

who cooks the arroz con pollo

and fills the air with popcorn smells

that settle in the memory

with salty buttery moments

While piped in eighties music

seeps in our private bubbles

(one guy’s foot is tapping as he tries to read

his book)

While a little white dog

trots by masquerading as a therapist

for the human

we all know is as crazy as us all

Yet no-one looks up

or at each other

or pretends to be nice

Still the employees walk by in their

black and white garb

wishing it was 5

while we hope we’re called next

But…what if

this was an Island

in the middle of the sea

where we all were lost

and survivors of a wreck

Then how would we be

Would you catch my eye

or walk with me to the edge of the sand

and look toward the horizon

searching for distant hope

Because now we are comrades

awake

to each others light

in this hidden land

 

Poem: Clandestine


Rising again

lips drenched

from former kisses

the taste of dissipating sweet

arising to awareness

And filtering rays

lay like lovers

resting softly nearby

The visits

are now clandestine

quiet furtive touches

felt briefly–barely

and then are lost

Laying still

feeling lingering longing

layered on remembering

will it never leave

as the endless nights

continue on

alone

 

Poem: For M This Winter


Cloudless

endless blue glared down

Cheeks brushed by Goddess

frozen fingers

rubbing rouge on Her

still legged puppets

as they whirl and shiver

in endless white

Incessant snot

stuffed in pockets

The offering

given up

to the chill and burr

of footsteps frozen

crunching

The sounds of tiny edifice

falling in

crashing together

softly–fitting

And the tea

warming up the chill

melting the drops

of snow littered cold

that landed

and rode upon

this earthly form

Lofty


I’ve decided to start a project–a lofty project one might say. Someone gave me the idea this summer, but I didn’t think much of it then, but recently the idea settled in the back of my mind like a little ember and has been burning ever since.

My poetry is by no means award-winning, nor will it ever be found next to the likes of Oliver, Angelou or Plath, but in looking back, I’ve realized it has been somewhat prolific. Over the years of my blog I’ve written over 400 poems. 400! 400? I was quite amazed, and pleased with my writing self.

Some, of course, I like better than others; some are a mere silliness and some just bubble forth to lie down hard. But, none-the-less, they all exist in their own right. The thing is: they exist in the world of the internet and nowhere else. And this, recently, has become unsettling to me.

In our ever-changing world, ever unreliable and unpredictable–it seemed a novel and maybe even prudent idea to save these precious thoughts of mine in a more mundane and old-fashioned way–just in case. In case the internet collapses and goes away. Or, maybe even something less dramatic, that someday my kids just run across my journal where these poems are kept, and are stunned by the notions their mother had in her head.

So I have begun to transcribe all these words into a journal. Sure, I could have simply printed them out. But I wanted to wrap myself around them; taste them with my being as I write; re-live them. I feel like a medieval scribe, hunched over my parchment, cup of tea and sunflower seeds, scribbling, scribbling…

And some I read aloud. I close my eyes. Before me is a cushioned room and other poets such as myself, clutching their poems and listening intently as I share. They will be next to speak their truths, bring their gifts to the small group of unknown writers. Here we feel safe.

For no matter who we are or what we write, good or bad, it is a love of words and the joy of weaving them that unites us all.

Thank you for letting me share mine with you.

 

Just A Wee One


 

Finally I have landed a wee job that fits in perfectly with the criteria I had listed in my head (I hope). It’s been a long and interesting year experimenting with various things while waiting to find something, but hopefully this will work.

It’s nothing much really, but that’s part of my plan. Just a little PT position in a very small Charter school working as a lunch monitor.

So here’s how it fit the bill and my way of thinking:

  • It’s Part time: It’s in the middle of the day so allows me my workout in the am and the ability to get home for the pets in the afternoon or any chores/appointments.
  • It’s a no-brainer: After 20 years of the stress of being a paramedic, I didn’t want to do anything too difficult. Yes, I know, maybe I’m being lazy, but for now, this is the case.
  • It’s NOT in healthcare: I had made a distinct decision that I was pulling out of working in healthcare altogether. This is why I’ve had such a hard time finding something I reckon. With my resume reflecting 20 years in the business, not many folks were interested in taking a chance on me for something new.
  • It’s something new!: This is the very reason it seemed cool. While it’s not some deep, difficult task, at least it’s different.
  • It’s fun: The kids are great (albeit VERY noisy) and it will be a great new challenge to work closely with this population for a change. I’ve had my own of course, but now I have 300!
  • It has potential for more: I’ve been assured it has growth potential should I want it at some point. But for now I am quite content with the hours.
  • It’s close to home: After commuting 40 minutes each way (in ice storms) for so many years, having a job very close is a blessing.
  • I’m in ‘the system’: Once I’m within the public school system (yes, Charter schools are publicly funded), there can be potential for movement.
  • I can handle just about anything for a few hours: Even if there are difficulties, it’s only a few hours a day and plenty of vacations!

So all in all, I hope this works out. My fellow employees in the lunch room seem nice too. I have no idea how I will begin to memorize the names of all these children, but hey, I’ll figure it out.

And I’ve already ordered special ear plugs that will hopefully block out some of the major noise, but allow me to still hear them when they talk to me. (I mean it is REALLY loud in this tiny room!)

But I have to say, we never lose parts of ourselves… Because as I look around at all these kids eating and talking, and eating and laughing, and eating and being silly— the paramedic in me can’t help but think:

Just keep chewing, swallowing and breathing… NO CHOKING allowed!!

 

Don’t Fight The Good Fight


Do you remember the old song that had the lyrics: “I fought the law and the law won”….

Well, I sort of feel like this…not exactly that I have been fighting the law, but a similar looming entity in America that, to me at least, now just feels like a gigantic monster that no longer has the capabilities, abilities or desire to do what it originally was set up to do.

Can you guess?? It’s health care. For months now I have been trying to schedule a routine mammogram and have been getting nowhere. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say I have been lead down the dark alleyways of jargon, insurance codes, doctor referrals (or refusals to do so), authorization and the inability of one organization to speak to another –therefore leaving me, the patient, in the middle….

….With no idea what anyone is talking about. I’m in the unfortunate situation of being on Obamacare (or not, depending on how you see this), so the waters become very murky;more shady than usual. No doctors take it where I live, so most everywhere I go is an out-of-pocket expense.  I have it mostly for my one medication. But my understanding was that a routine mammo was covered…. So, I was determined to GET it covered!

After fighting with my doctor, and central scheduling, then trying Planned Parenthood, then central scheduling again, then speaking with Blue Cross at least three times and getting three different stories (all of this over and over)…. and this all after having three appointments scheduled and canceled over a period of months—I decided enough.

Healthcare? I was losing my mind. This all was causing me so much stress; I couldn’t sleep. I’ve had a concern too and really needed this mammo yet was getting nowhere! Only two people I spoke to on this entire messed up journey were actually sympathetic. Most either could barely speak English or just read off a script, and contradicted each other. One I actually spoke to her manager to compliment her because I had to talk to her so many times; she at least seemed to care.

So finally, I made a decision because I could see the fight was leading me to a dead-end and draining me of energy. It would be yet another out-of-pocket expense… I would just have to pay for the thing myself. And miraculously I had an appointment the next day!

I guess the moral of the story is that they wear you down until you succumb. Maybe this is part of the plan now. Read the small print…. If they can drive you crazy and stress you out bad enough over enough years, maybe you will die sooner.

So anyway, I fought the healthcare system and I lost bad….

Poem: In Session


Life is in session

she said to me

while her husband is laboring

to breathe

in some ICU

None of get out of this alive

Our neighbor upstairs

sure didn’t

He is gone

missing

just like the person who hit him

when he crossed the street

The movers made more noise

than he did

when they hauled his

stuff away

And blew smoke

in my windows

reminding me

Life is in session