Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 113

Tying a Knot in an Angry Bull’s Tail

Sometimes trying to reason with you is like

Tying a knot in an angry bull’s tail.

Notwithstanding super-human efforts

I’m still doomed to fail

When you shut down, stop listening.

Turning your receptors down to

Mute the muse of simple logic,

Silencing her every sound.

I’m not sure just why I try

To meet your measure in these days

Of metered madness, inverse logic,

Wild untempered fits of rage.

Must be something in the water

Keeps me coming back for more.

Maybe it’s the Stockholm syndrome.

Maybe I’m your prize of war.

Big whatever! Keeps me trying.

Keeps me in your cruel game.

One more effort. Just one triumph.

One more angry bull to tame.

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Lethal Madness

Serial snipers on the roadways,

Child molesters in the Priesthood,

Street-gang drug wars killing children

Or dragging them into their lowly ranks.

Who’d have thought a group of zealots

Would capture airplanes turning them

Into a weapon of destruction?

Obviously, someone did.

Today another mother lost her mind-

And she killed her children.

No excuses. No regrets. Just

Couldn’t take it anymore.

One more case of lethal madness,

One more act unjustified by

The simple act of common sense.

One more jar that’s lost its lid.

This world is such a wondrous place,

I just can’t understand

How madness becomes commonplace

And wins the upper hand.

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Gator by the Tail

Cripes! I really did it this time.

Grabbed that gator by the tail.

Its snapping jaws a menace

Not just to me, but any soul

Who enters in his sphere of reach.

Taste the fury of a creature

Who survives without emotion

In his murky world below.

I knew when I waded in his lair

The possibilities were there

For vile entanglement, but there’s a large

Reward for taking chances.

I know you wouldn’t want to see me spurn,

Simply turn and walk away

While the constant music plays

And the competition dances.

But now that I’ve found the Holy Grail,

Took this gator by the tail,

While his massive body flails,

Tell me, what am I to do?

If I hold, can I compete?

If I let go, am I dead meat?

Now’s the time for super heroes,

Time to pay the Devil’s due.

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Blunders

Oops! There I go again.

Turn the pencil upside down to

Correct one more mistake.

Damn! I should have seen that coming.

That’s why pencils have erasers

In the first place. Just so

Fools like me can blunder foolishly,

Aimlessly while strings are strumming

Dancers dancing, singers singing,

Such distractions, hard to focus.

Television droning, droning without

Substance. Such a loss.

Pesky gnats that swarm about me

Eating at my contemplation,

Breaking bread upon my skin

Til they become my albatross.

Stop the swatting. Focus! Focus.

Concentrate on tasks at hand.

You can make a world of difference

If you choose to take a stand.

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Blusters

Bodacious, blustery bags of wind.

Oh, superficial blunder-buster,

Must the world in pain endure

Another of your eerie flusters?

Flailing listlessly about in

Costumed plumage meant to hide

The masked profusion of confusion

That the truth holds deep inside.

Why must you purvey deceit?

Why such armor after all we’ve shared

In our brief history?

There’s no need to keep this wall

Between us when in simple terms

The kinder unembellished tale

Makes sweeter pudding for dessert,

Plays gentler winds upon the sail.

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Blisters

Take these blisters away from me.

I’ve worked so long, so hard. Too hard

It seems, or else

My weary flesh would be as fresh

As mountain streams,

Sweet and cool and comforting

Like an early morning dream

Staring your sweet loving smile,

Lingering a little while.

Tarry on these premises

Awaiting candlelit romances,

Summer walks, cotillion dances.

Far too much work left to do,

Fences felled is disrepair,

Roofs to patch, walls to paint,

Gardens needing tender care.

I’ll have time when work is done.

Then we’ll both have time for fun.

Then we’ll both have time….

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The Twelfth of Always

So many roads to get to always.

Such an elusive capture is she.

No net will hold to ensnare her beauty

Or bid her to linger in bad company.

Vainly I’ve traveled in quest of her glory.

Dozens of byways have beckoned my soles.

Futile in pilgrimage, seeking her counsel.

So many questions.

So many holes.

Yet always prevails,

A foraging fugitive, live and immortal

As I long to be.

Sheltered by universe,

Vast in the knowing,

Twelfth star in heaven’s

Unreachable sea.

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Pressure Cooker

I see the angry steam

Rushing upward from your ladened lid,

Locked and latched to

Seal the savor

Of the flavor deep inside.

You can’t hide the wild

Intense desire to escape the fire

Burning hot below your feet,

A vile and Hellish brimstone street.

Pain must be your Musketeer

By your side to face the fearsome

Foe you seek to vanquish with the

Mighty slash of polished steel.

But your feet are melded to

A single surface as if magnets

Held you fast as others passed,

Demolishing your zest and zeal.

You can shed the pressure cooker,

Climb the ladder of desire.

Set your feet on kinder ground.

Set your sights forever higher.

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Whoa!

Wait a minute!

Stop the coach!

Don’t take me another mile.

I need some time to sort this out,

This magnified epiphany.

It never had occurred to me

That my existence may not be

A walk through all eternity.

Lately my mortality

Has come to focus by degree,

Weaknesses and frailty

Have opened up a plethora,

Doors unopened find a key

Sending me to bended knee,

Opening my eyes to see

Only He can set me free.

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Hit Me Hard

Pinch me, smack me, hit me hard

To make sure I’m awake for this.

Heighten my attention span

To full capacity.

Crowd my thoughts with diligence,

Alert my eyes to sight,

Turn my hearing up a notch

To maxed utility.

This I never thought I’d see,

Never dreamt I’d hear.

Your fervent apology

Is music to my ear.

I do not wish to miss an inch

Of measure from your bard.

So let me say and say again

In earnest,

Hit me hard.

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