Tim Schaefer's Blog

TIME TO FLY

The matter about this matter

is that we created it

mind create mattermind over matterand boys and girlswe've lost our fukking minds 

don'cha feel it too?go the lyrics to the song...don'cha feel it too?
Well, what's to do?
Burying myself in the immediacyof the momentI ignore all else that lurksoutside my sandcastle walls
Ah...I get the feelingthe universe is telling meit will soon be time to go(as in the the birds in "Who Knows Where The Time Goes")and it's saying; See, there ain't that much left for you to miss out on anymore.  The world is one by one  closing up shop on the things you love.
Ah, ya know what I meanjust look around 
Pollyanna has left the building
And if you think it's going to get betterall on its ownand magically right itself again after this little cosmic glitch--I'm here to splash some cold wateron your stupidly grinning mug
We're going to have to think our wayout of this one
a crisis of the spirit
We're going to have to call uponscience and religionour best mindson the jobfighting back the Mongol hordes(and bottom line...is HE the sick comedianyou've always suspected?)
There's no other waybecause it poured into my heart
there's loveand there's fearthat's it the two dynamics of the universe 
And so we're going to have to thinkour way out of this one
We're going to have to scratchand claw our way out of this one
We're going to have tokick and spit and cuss
We're going to have to go down swinging on this one We're going to have to love ourselvesout of this one

CAN OF CAT FOOD AND A TOMATO

It's late at night. A woman stops into the grocery--deserted save for her and the cashier--and plops down a canof cat food and a tomato.
The cashier says is that all there is--and as the womanbundles against the nighton the way backto her car, that linefrom the Peggy Lee songstarts playing in her head.And in a way she's gladthat it's been reduced to this.
With The Sonofabitch long gone,and all the kids grown and moved on as well,it's just the pain(but it's a good one)of sharp claws digginginto your skinat 5 o'clock in the morning--a wakeup call more reliablethat Sonny and Cherwailing "I Got You Babe."
And that's a hurt that,unlike most of the others that came and wentover the long and the short of it, doesn't leave any hidden scars. 

 

BLUE SUEDE

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The polished night
obsidian
shelters you in its cocoon
your perfect spot to stay put
and ruminate
until the dawn

You cannot remember
what is holding
America together--
some long lost ideal
of ultimate rightness
and robust potential 
perhaps
as seen (or constructed)
in Whitman's mind's eye

The young greeter wearing
the mask at the market
says you always wear 
the coolest shoes when
you come in...

You look down... 
Oh, those are my 
Blue Suede Shoes!

You are startled 
that a pleasant someone
barely on your radar before 
has taken note of you
when most who once bore
the heavy burden of 
significant other
surely haven't given you 
a thought in decades

 A reason to hold on
at least one more day
you say

Just to see what will happen
to America
caught up in an Agatha Christie
whodunit 
where you think you know
who's the bad guy
but do you really...
in a world where all the players
are complicit in the murder?

AND IT WAS GOOD

Greedy capitalists assault the senses
Every minute of the day

It’s the American way
I only ever triedTo sell myselfOften failing miserably(but stuck with it)
Things that chap your assAre easily remedied If you’ll just get off of itAnd take care of business

Now that would makeA good advertising slogan(with a patriotic ring)To help boost the economy
O AmericaIs there any hope for you now?
Whitman saw it all folding outInto a glorious panorama
Scaling mountainsPulling myself cautiously up 
And it was good.
Hold onto that romantic vision
AmericaLike the buffalo you decimatedIt may yet make a comeback one dayWhen neighbor stops hating neighborAnd brother stops killing brother
Oh heyListen to meYou can still hear thatWide-eyed idealistBoarding the bus to the airportTo board the planeAnd wing his way over the oceanTo a brand new lifeAnd all because he took a chanceAnd got off his ass And followed his dream

GET REAL

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All of a sudden
the sports talk guyon the radiohas become a championof sensitivityto women's issuesas if he never spenta night out boozin' and laughin' it up with the boys--as if he never satin a locker roomand traded those jokes before

UMBRAL SKY

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The lonesome moon roams the streets
searching for mad love
in all its myriad forms--
it's image reflected in the gutter splash
that peppers my trousers
as a fancy horse-drawn carriage blows by.

A calypso drumbeat seeps
from some nearby edifice.
The crickets sing along.

I duck behind a shop
to drain the snake.

Memories of sinning in the alley
thrust
bang
bite
come flooding back.

I'm so uncouth
I laugh
slurring my words
it's only life
I'll just go back again
and take it on the chin.

Drifting along
weaving this way and that
muttering curses
into the dying night.

I am the master of my fate
but where are my subjects?

The moon climbs rapidly
in its umbral sky.

A poem swirls round
in my head
edgy and cryptic
teetering right on the brink
of beginning to stink.

I've walked right up to the abyss
and peered over.
Backed away
to fight another day.

Yes
I believe in mad love
in all its myriad forms
one's only leverage
in a broken world.

The cock crows.
A new day begins.

The will to survive 
is all we have.

STATUS REPORT

Tucked away 
in my tower

safely hidden
from the past

keepin' busy
as always

I have my books
and my poetry
to protect me...

I'm only sad 
when I hear 
those songs again

HEY NINETEEN

You're plastering those numbers
up on the screen again--
every night it's the same goddamn
thing, over and over--
be afraid...be very afraid....

You think you've seized upon 
the only thing that matters
or should matter
at this moment in time
because it's about
survival. And yet man 
does not live by survival alone. 
Cave man, maybe.
But not modern 
technologically advanced
and culturally refined man.

We've gone so far past 
the instinct to merely survive.
We've built a world out of 
inspired visions of what's possible
and learned that it's anything
and everything we can imagine!

And I can assure you 
that on a personal
level it's about quality.
Not quantity.

It's not good enough
to merely survive anymore.
And all your white--knuckled
fear mongering-- 
your constant 
sound the alarm
sound the alarm
like somebody's car being broken
into down in the alley
late at night...

Shut that goddamn thing off already!

We get it.

Because I can assure you
that on a personal level--
and I  know I speak not
only for myself--there have 
to be millions of a like mind
thinking this very same thing
right now...
that if this is the way
it's going to be
from this day forward...
if this is the world we're bequeathing
to our children
and grandchildren
then who needs it?

Who fucking needs it? 
Really.

ABLUTION

Hidden gaze
melting
into steam-frosted mirror.
With a finger I sketch
the face
that I will wear today.
Tomorrow I'll begin again
with a clean slate.

UPON FURTHER REVIEW

The Ghost of Xmas Past
grips his impressive water cannon
and directs a great stream of piss
across time
into the 21st century
he still knows where
to find you
and his aim is true

the past is always present
in the present
your decadence a thread
running through your life

walled cities
with bearded men in robes
shimmer in the desert sun
you wake as from a dream
to find it was a dream
(or is a dream?)

all about 
the world is crumbling

oh
that's just you

but your mind
your mind
sharp as ever
maybe better 
and that's all you can afford
to give a shit about now

little things you forget
until it gets dangerously close
to the deadline
(forgot or subconsciously ignored?)
the little way you have
of creating drama
in a life now essentially
devoid of same

still
so many choices
your mind is racing 

you've acknowledged that
your only real objective
was to be happy
though it makes you feel guilty
to say it

and the only reason you're crying 
is because the world is crying

in reality you exist above it all
as ageless soul
pure essence
omnipotent
detached
as The Creator is detached
from his creation

now 
there are certain games
that once seemed crucial
to that rose-colored vision of happiness
you've suspended due to
the threat of storms

and anyway 
the guy only gets
the girl
in Hollywood






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