Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 228

If it's true

If it’s true you can’t take it with you, 
leave the very best of yourself behind.

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When the Leaves Leave

It's snowing now; has been for a day
Or more. The evergreens are pregnant
Pure with white, and the sidewalks sigh
With the weight until shovels clear
And the sun arrives and it can breathe again.

Now the elm tree waits, hoping Springtime will
Renew all the innocence and joy that
It once knew 'til the Winter winds
Blew her covers far away
And laid bare her soul for the world to see.

And you were gone in the early Autumn air.
As the leaves were falling, fate was
Planning, too. And you left me here
Standing stark and alone; sighing, shivering
With loss no one has ever known before.

...Sadly now, the leaves have simply blown
Away 'til threadbare limbs flail wild in
Winter winds. And I'm wondering,
Are you somewhere safe tonight?
And does God have mercy for those left behind?

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Meditation

Meditation seeks that home 
where tempests reside in the calm. 

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You Don't Understand

I know that we speak the same language.
You know that I've said it ten thousand times,
But somehow we're just not communicating
In enumerating a tired old theme.
Taking apart every syllable,
Every nuance laid threadbare before us, picked clean.
And still you don't hear, or do you ignore?
Would it help if I shouted and screamed?

The rules of polite conversation sometimes
Tie the pitiful hands of the articulate
When the ears of the listener deafen and turn
In directions too often not meant to be tread,
Leaving the speaker, the teller of stories, to
Squirm in frustration much to the point
Of wishing the listener, to his dismay,
Were strangled, beaten and left for dead.

Such a simple, magical plan...
Pity you don't understand.

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I Don't Need Scissors

I don't need scissors to cut out your heart
And toss it aside without shedding a tear.
Actions and words have more cutting an edge
Than the most finely honed pair of stainless steel shears.
I won't abide by your mollified codes that
Demand acquiescence to civility.
You won't find me yielding or wielding an edge
To the notions of polite society.
There is a line which, when crossed, kindles sparks
That build to a wall of impenetrable fire
That can't be put down,
Cannot be extinguished,
But only grows deeper and hotter and higher.

You had to hurt me.
You had to dig.
You knew the ending right from the start.
Now it's my turn, and I won't be kind...
And I don't need scissors to cut out your heart.

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Boom Box Theory

Every evening, 11 PM, we
Hear him pull through the alleyway
Headed to what must be the solace of
Hearth and home at the end of his day.
Not that the engine of his Tracker is
A loud unmuffled roar;
Not that the potholes in the alley scream
Of rattles bottomed out;
Not that he's greeted at his door by
Loved ones gladly welcoming his
Tired bones to a weary rest
After an arduous evening out.
How do we know our neighbor is home
Just as our sleep time is settling in?
"Boom-ba da boom-ba da boom, boom, boom"
Our walls quake with the deafening din.
How can he stand it?
What evil demon possesses his spirit...
Rules over his mind?
Piercing his ears to the marrow of bone,
Leaving all semblance of logic behind,
Filling his head like a horn of plenty...
He'll probably be deaf by the time he is twenty.

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Pernicious Glitch

Joy... Anger... Pain... Sorrow...
Love... Elation... Hate... Depression...
Fear... Confusion... Agitation...
Jealousy...  Aggravation...
Logic doesn't seem to fit
The pattern of emotion
That the Human factor tends to lend
Our dismal dreary days.
No wonder we become confused
With minds befuddled and bemused
When pathways clutter and refuse
To follow logic's ways.
Like pieces of a patchwork quilt
All cut and scattered on the floor,
Like bricks before the house is built,
All separate and alone;
Until they're placed and stitched or mortared
In a pattern prearranged,
The pieces are just pieces...
The bricks are merely stone.

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Fish

I'm no big fan of seafood;
Never have been,Never will be.Though many love it, I find fishIs not me cup of tea.Those funny little aliensSnatched from another world,Where we would die in minutesWere we untimely hurled.I love to watch them flyingThrough their liquid atmosphere;Courting danger every momentWith no trace of fear.Eyes that gaze expressionlessInto the sea ahead.Caution-tempered innocence,Unaware of dread.
Yes, fish are fascinating,And to watch them is a treat;Just as long as they're not placedIn front of me to eat.
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Lawyers

They say the way to fix the law
Is to get rid of the lawyers;
A theory of some merit, I suspect.
A certain small percentage
Gives them all the "nom de plume"
Of a greedy, slimy, hateful, horrid sect.
Ethically unethical...
Self-serving in their creed...
Praying on the avarice
Inherent in mankind...
Hiding truth deep in the dark...
Keeping justice blind.
But hope lies in awareness
If we only take a look.
The advocate can change;
Can write a new page in our book.
With true concern and real compassion
We can turn a leaf,
And lawyers lose their reputation
Of praying on our grief.


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Competition

Don't be too hard on yourself
If you don't win each time you try.
It's the trying that's important.
You never need an alibi
If you have given every measure
Of true effort in your quest.
Competition stirs the spirit
Bringing out your best.
Demons try to undermine us.
Selfish dragons snap and snarl.
Pushing, pulling, nagging, yelling,
Baiting... Begging not to quarrel.
Just remember in the end
You've just one life to save.
You can't let competition
Put you in an early grave.

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