Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 71

Office Gossip

Gaggling, babbling, ramblingon,

The office grapevine yields itswine;

The vintage oftenunimportant,

Bottled quickly, swallowed fast

Then passed along in bits andsnippets

Changing as it passes hands

'Til uproar lifts its uglyhead

As ire is raised and doubt iscast.

 

Still we listen, still believe,

Though third and fourth orfifth-hand told,

And take to heart and passalong

Like tall tales told aslullabies.

And even though discoverylies somewhere

Just beyond our reach,

We take without a grain ofsalt

And gladly swallow all thelies.

 

I shall not be part andparcel.

I will dig to find the facts

When office gossip rears itsugly head

And, without shame, attacks.

 

Saint or Sinner

Mother Theresa, save thechildren.

Be their beam; their guidinglight.

Show them by your pureexample

Good from evil...right fromwrong.

Keep a distance from theirpraise

That you may not be vainlyturned,

And hold your candle in theair

So you may lead and not beburned.

 

Had young Adolph known your wisdomas

A growing Aryan child,

How much grief might havebeen spared

A World beleaguered andbeguiled

By his charisma at a time

When hope wore out and heartswere sore;

Finding audience to lead

A world embattled, primed forwar.

 

Worlds apart, yet oh, so near;

Subtle differences abide.

Choosing between saint andsinner;

Sailing off with eveningtide.

 

A Fox in the Henhouse

Someone must have left thelatch

Unhinged and open overnight

For the late night hunter,nocturne villain

Hiding in the faded light.

 

The crickets cry, thebullfrog sings,

The night owl questions,"Who is there?"

But not a sound the stealthnight raider

Makes as he roams far andnear.

 

Could I have faltered sounwary?

So assured? So confident?

Must I now pay for caution'sflaws?

The answer is self-evident.

 

The fox will raid but tosurvive,

And he will journey far andwide

To find the point of leastresistance

In the shadows where he hides.

 

The Mighty Have Fallen

Such a tall parapet to bestood upon;

All the world gazing up,anxious to see

If your wings will carry youover the rainbow

That rides, like a crescent,your haloed head.

 

Humanity worships its covetedheroes,

Lifted on shoulders of sinewybrawn and

Placed on a pedestal, put ondisplay;

Rose petaled path on a carpetof red.

 

You never asked to be partand parcel

To overwrought passioncarelessly aimed

In random direction, seekinga savior

To fill the void of the grosslymundane.

 

Yet favor has fallen in yourdirection

Placing a laurel-leaf crownon your head

That doesn't quite fit andstrangely has thorns

That start early on toharbinger pain.

 

And those who placed youthere gather below

Holding their breath to seehow you will fly.

Waiting to see how the mightyhave fallen,

Giving no pardon...

No alibi.

 

Flying Downhill

I had a recurring dream as achild

That I could stand on thecrest of a peak

And, with the aid of arunning start

And a trailing wind, couldfly downhill.

 

Light as a feather I glide onthe current

Of upswept air beneath myfeet,

Gliding the wind to conversewith the eagles,

To share their adventures,the uncommon thrill

Of the danger inherent whenanyone tries

To defy the nature ofgravity's rule.

 

But in a dream rules standfor nothing;

Everything's possible;anything goes.

Worlds expand and visionincreases

Beyond the horizon and intothe future

Where eyes are born ofimagination,

And rules can never restrictor impose.

 

Ah! The wonder!  The absolute thrill!

Capturing Heaven...  Flying downhill.

 

 

Backlash

Maybe I should have been morein tune

With her sea of emotionracing to shore.

Always obsessed with theraving and craving

Attention, I often neglected herneeds.

 

Pity the soul who is blind tothe passion

Of everyday Odyssey born onthe wind.

The caring and giving is lostin the shadows,

And naked compassion ismeasured in deeds.

 

There comes a time when thepiper needs paying.

It usually comes at the end ofthe dance

When it's too late to takeback the words

That were spoken in angerlike hurricane winds.

 

The backlash has torn everystitch of her fiber,

Ripped at the seams andcarried away

All the essence of caringleaving a void. Filled

With rock-hard emotion ofhearts on the mend.

 

Tabloid Trash

I can't believe you read thattrifling,

Half-baked, made up garbagecan liner...

Headline grabber, sensationalbilker

Of common sense reasoning outon a ledge.

Even the Ancients knewtwo-headed monsters

Were only a fable made up ona lark,

But tabloids would have usbelieve they are real,

Would push to the brink andgo over the edge.

Alien babies and six-year-oldmothers,

Sightings of Elvis andJ.F.K...

Three headed llamas andreincarnations

Of Christ on the cross on theVatican walls.

Stories "bizzaro"... Stories "fantastique" ...

Psychic phenomenon spoken astruth.

Callous predictions of armedArmageddon

Sweeping the Earth asdemocracy falls.

Such a waste of out forest'streasure;

Unwanted ink spilled onto apage.

To think that the human raceis so gullible

First makes me wonder, then

Fills me with rage.

 

Stealing Lives

They buried Weaver Tucktoday;

A child of six barely sprungfrom the womb;

Caught in a cross-fire,snuffed like a candle,

Victim of senselessnessbarren of shame.

Where was his crime to bepaid for so heavily?

What did he do to deservesuch a fate?

He only wanted to play on thesidewalk;

Sidewalks demented bytorrents of hate

And the violent steaming ofsenseless demands

That sink the level ofgenuine worth

To a point so low that life losesvalue,

As urges and cravings beguilecommon sense.

Shame becomes shapelesswithout recompense

And the Preacher is helpless

For no one will hear,

No one stands close enough toshed a tear,

And justice is silent or slowto dispense.

 

We live in a jungle where noone survives,

And hate is allowed to go onstealing lives.

 

A Kiss and Then...

I remember the anticipation

Sitting on the saber’s edge,

Not knowing how the blademight slice

Or just how deep may be itsthrust.

 

We were children, so itseemed,

Bursting full with naiveté,

Asking questions born ofpromise,

Seeking out each other'strust.

 

You with lips so full andready,

Waiting, Oh! So patiently to

Give your heart, your veryall

To one whose step will matchyour own.

 

I look deep in the well ofyour eyes

And see right through yourvery soul

To realize that I was meantto

Spend my life with you alone.

 

I hesitate for but a moment,

Savoring the sweetest sin;

Moving closer, heartsaflutter...

Lips commit...  A kiss, and then....

 

Thrown In a Well

Pebbles cause ripples that noone sees

When unceremoniously thrownin a well.

Like the tree in a forestwhen no one's around;

If it falls does it matter ifit makes a sound?

Do the squirrels or therabbits, the foxes or bees

Really care if it cried as inanguish it fell.

 

Pain that's unseen; is itpain at all?

Does silence absolve andsecrets abjure

All the senses to feelinglessflights of emotion?

Tasting the dredges ofserpentine potion

'Til no one remembers, noeyes recall all

The torrents of torment we'remeant to endure.

 

No one will know us.

No one will tell.

Our lives are like pebbles

Thrown into a well.