Dermott Hayes's Blog: Postcard from a Pigeon, page 7

Modest Super Hero

“Are you a superhero?” the snotty boy with a thin film of dayglo popsicle on his face, asks.

He was asking the man in the dandyish Edwardian suit of shades of blue plaid with skinny pants and mirror polished, brown leather shoes.

“It all depends,” the dandy answers.

“On what?” the boy asks, one finger exploring the inner depths of his right nostril.

“On whether people value style over substance.”

Examining the treasure gathered from his nasal probe in myopic detail, the boy misses this last retort. He looks at the dandy with the same scrutiny he’s just given his mucilage.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Irony Man, “ says the dandy.

GENIUS

One of Warren’s rules was that if you have a gut feeling about a stock – research and due diligence completed, of course – then go all in and don’t scratch around with pennies. So Jackson sunk his money in cannabis stock and became a millionaire. You can’t argue with financial genius.

I Have Answers

, cornucopia of images, deluge of thoughts, economy of words

O at the Edges

I Have Answers

But the questions remain.

A little pepper, some salt,

butter. Our rosemary needs pruning

and the music’s too loud

to hear. The lizard basks in sunlight

eight minutes old, but I forget to ask

what else we need. Or want. Just this,

she says. Red, like your favorite sky,

the in-between, the misplaced one.

“I Have Answers” is included inFrom Every Moment a Second, which will be published by Finishing Line Press this fall. The publisher has informed me that the publication date has been pushed back five weeks, which suggests a mid-November release.

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Memory

Is it good to remember who we were,

does memory have an age?

To remember times when we were young,

returning youth to our doting stage.

How can a memory be old,

Stuck in the age when it unfolds?

Memory is time’s mirror,

Reflecting images lost in years,

Distorted thoughts,

A fairground terror .

To That Girl

To that girl, I say,

a mystery,

you were a secret

when I met you

I was mute,

blundering,

tongueless,

awestruck

and fumbling

You were aloof,

untouchable,

a thought

inside my head.

Your pretty face,

those hazel eyes

I let you go,

you walked away.

You wondered why?

he’s such a fool,

was it something I said?

we never spoke

was it my hair,

my bum in this dress?

I like him if I had the chance

to change his style, his hair’s a mess.

I wished you could

believe in us,

that we could

be together,

but I lost you

when I met you

as we both chased a sprite

instead of looking for what’s right.

Good Drying

Autumn’s good drying,

life takes a rest,

an overdue vacation,

the harvest’s abundance,

Autumn’s fruit falling,

celebrates an ending,

death’s silent promise

no end in returning.

clothes whip and crack

on the line, desiccating

Fall’s gentle gusts

deceptive, defying

alive, energetic

living for dying.

colours so vivid

dead leaves a-flying.

THE ANGRY ANARCHIST

Fuck this and fuck that,

fuck what? a voice asks,

fuck everything,

what have you got?

If it lies, cheats or steals?

Fuck you and the beast

it rode in on.

You say youth is fucked up

but you won’t take the rap

for twisting, distorting

and hey, fucking up.

Fuck you for diverting

the seeds of salvation

the child of your dreams

into harbingers of death

hate with no reason

except to line

your own pockets

with fruits of damnation.

Fuck you and your morals

the rules of contortion

shaped, shifted and shuffled

to fuck fools

with your scruples

while you dip their pockets.

Fuck you.

CIRCLE

 

At first, he enjoyed their game. OK, he was the victim but that was too obvious. He knew he wanted irony, dramatic structure, he wanted someone to die. Why was it always him? so he devised a plan. He would go along, lure them in and strike. Full circle, right?

Work and the Loneliness Epidemic

There is good reason to be concerned about social connection in our current world. Loneliness is a growing health epidemic. We live in the most technologically connected age in the history of civilization, yet rates of loneliness have doubled since the 1980s. Today, over 40% of adults in America report feeling lonely, and research suggests that the real number may well be higher.

An extraordinary article by Vivek H. Murthy, former US Surgeon-General, for Harvard Business Review, arguing Reducing isolation at work is good for business.

read more

Too Late to Use

When lifting my foot was a pain

the coach said soak it up,

put weight on your other foot

fight through the soreness

Now lifting my foot is a daily torment

to bear among[image error] a multitude of indignities

as ache becomes a companion

not to fight or soak

But a daily reminder

I’m still alive,

a welcome partner

in a daily struggle

The pace of age can’t be gauged,

except in hairlines, waistlines,

sagging pants

and gasps for a share of air to breathe

Getting old is a conversation piece

a ploy to compare the wounds

of war and life, the daily struggle

how the young ignore and never learn

The lessons we should’ve taught them

but forgot, while we were burning bright

like them. The only school we know is life

and experience is a tough reminder.

Ruthless disregard, disrespect

and competitive drive,

the angry truths revealed in senescence

time to value, too old to use.