Tim Schaefer's Blog, page 8

ALL THE BOOGEYMEN AND THE GODDESSES ARE GONE

dVerse Poets Pub

I initially engage a book of poetry
somewhere in the middle, 
looking to avoid   
beginnings and endings
as one always leads to the other
and if we'd just meet each other
halfway the cycle might be broken.

I  don't need new and improved
like the dubious claims in that
laundry detergent commercial.
Am quietly content with 
a 1997 issue of Ploughshares 
that I picked up at the used book sale.
Those poems have been neglected
for some time (I can identify) 
so I pay them a visit to find
lo and behold that neither they
nor their creators have aged...
only me...old and unimproved.

And then the next ad pops up 
and it's  the real people-- not actors--
with their testimonials, don't you know.
And as for those backhandedly maligned
thespians, I wonder if at the end of the day
 do they turn back into real people again 
when they go home to their families
or maybe just a room with one dim  
bulb hanging down from 
the ceiling and a cat.

And now back to our story.
But maybe I'll just switch it off 
before the foregone conclusion.
Have done it before.
You just walk out the door.
(Avoiding the saddest part of the drama.)
Used to think maybe I would
miss something that way. 
But now can see that 
all I missed was the ending.

THIS BIRD

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
I saw someone
who looked a lot like you
before you went crazy

but it was only from pictures
that I saw the resemblance

for as long as I knew you
you 
were a little off
but I just chalked it up
as part of the cost of loving

but there comes a point
of diminishing returns
on one's investment
so you cut your losses
before they cut into you 


the song of the cuckoo
as she flies over her nest
will bombard my heart
with second thoughts
but last impressions 
are always more telling

who have you been
for lo these many lives
and how many people
are crying quietly inside you?

You wanted me to be your knight
but I can't save you from the demons
that will one day drag you screaming
to your own private hell

WHEN YUKIMI SINGS

d'Verse Poets Pub

Don't sum up your life
by the awards you've collected
nobody gives a crap 
'bout that but you.

Or your service to the war machine.

U can only be proud of that if 
U didn't snuff out the flame
of a slanty-eyed someone you've
never spoken to and never
given it a second thought 
cuz U did your duty by God and country.

And when Yukimi comes gyrating onto
the stage to do the vocal for "Empire Ants" 
it's already the middle of the song
and the crowd goes nuts in frenzied
anticipation with a thousand flames
held high cuz they know it's about
to kick into another gear.
And then that beat engulfs you
 like a big Asian tsunami 
and just sweeps U right you away.

So let's say that U also dug
Gorillaz--then there'd be some hope
that you and I 
could engage eye to eye
and I to I
 and lo and behold
there might be mutual understanding
no matter who or what we are.

It could be just that easy.

RUNNER

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

if you're numb
if you're just numb
you can block out
the shame and regret
of all you've done
otherwise there ain't no way
you make it through 
to fight another day
you want to have clear
vision not clouded by
tears and your nose
not running with snot
you're running with the bulls
you're running with the devil
you're running from the stench
of the past 
and that's a marathon
you'll finish by god
bloodied but unbowed
pick up your participation medal
on the way home

IN THE FLASH OF AN EYE

And now I find
that I give less and less
of a damn
about any of it

But it would do my heart good
if I knew that just once you stopped
and questioned your motives
for all of it
cuz if it's just by rote
it plays a sad and sour note
to my ears

And let me draw my own conclusions
as to why she smiled at me
in the supermarket
let me hang onto my illusions
a wee bit longer
cuz in my mind
and in my heart
I'm still back there listenin' to
The Mighty Quinn
(everybody's gonna want a dose)

Don't mean to be morose
but I need a reason
to fall out of that bed

Just don't make me feel that
 your day
and your life
won't be complete
unless you are killing something
that smiles

Decades whiz by
in the flash of an eye
and when I say I took her support stockings off
and wore them over my head
and then went out and robbed da liquor store
I think U know what I mean--
it's the universal language of love
ooby dooby dooby doo
 just me and you

Will apologize to neither god nor man
for what I am
my is-ness
is none of you biz-ness
and yet I'll pray
that you'll be forever freed
from your own private hell...
and thus release me from mine

WATCHING FRENCH FILMS WITH SUBTITLES

Look up
look down
miss the action or
miss the meaning
but you don't want to miss those tits
so to hell with what they're saying right now

Knowing one's priorities
makes life much simpler

ALL THOSE ANGELS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Always felt loosely tethered
well you can kick that up
a notch now
a shadow of one's former
self that was no more than a
shadow to begin with 
giving way
day 
by
day
to an emerging grey sky

The why??? of it
 gets caught in your throat
as you laugh and shake your head
at the sudden realization
 that all those angels
and that luck of the Irish
rolling your way 
were just a thing in your head
and things being preordained
seems the only logical conclusion
and talismans are just pretty stones
that dangle at the end of a chain
which seems like a 
totally appropriate metaphor

LAST LESSONS OF THE AFTERNOON

Didn't send anything 
to your journal this time
didn't send anything to
your contest 
(after winning it last year)
cuz the truth is it's just too much
goddamn trouble 
for little reward

Like a lot of things

Like life
mostly

But you're expecting
a poem 
of course you are
that's why you're here...

So let's not disappoint:

Last lessons of the afternoon
your last drive
I said, this misery must end

The rolling English road
bagpipe music
anthem for doomed youth

Buffalo dusk
full moon
what are years?

Look within
the lost man
not waving 
still drowning

I remember the woman
 at the Washington Zoo
wearing flames and dangling wire 
a kiss in space
a taste
tangerine
Xmas trees
the end of love
going
going
gone

All day it rained 

Fuck you 

AFTERWORD

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

He's just a nondescript dude
 more polite than most
 no need for posturing
at this stage of the game

The one he's not playing

Saw him at the theater
saw him at the school
saw him at the cafe
in the booth
so calm and cool

Think you're a tough guy
and he looks like a pushover
maybe have a little fun
maybe heap some abuse
but you've just drawn to
the worst hand of your life
with the one you never should choose

Talkin bout the man with nothing to lose

Your woman
your job
your booze
will keep you playing the game
by somebody else's rules
and you'll always stop short
of the things he might choose

That man with nothing to lose

Who knows when
the proverbial straw
came into play
suffice it to say
that life has been exposed
as a game for fools
and he is no longer playing
by anyone's rules

When life's no longer
what it seems
you walk along in a dream
a slow motion movie
where there is no sound
and people's eyes appear
to be screaming
and you wonder
in a curious way
if it has anything to do
with you

Saw him at the theater
saw him at the school
saw him at the cafe
in the booth
so calm and cool

And afterward
the afterword
is how did we fail him
but that's easy because
day by day
and each and every day
we shuffle along in a dream
where we wanted to reach out
we had it in our minds
to reach out
we had it on our agenda
to reach out
we had it on our calendar
to reach out
but somehow
we just didn't
and so it's easy to discern
just where we went wrong
my friend
cuz day after day
and each and every day
we
have
all
failed
to
love

TIME WARP IN AISLE # 5

Moving down the aisle at the
SuperDuper market, a song from
1968 comes on the overhead speakers:
Hi everybody, I'm Archie Bell of The Drells
from Houston Texas...
just as if none of this crazy shit
had taken place in the interim and we
are back to the purity of The Beat.

We don't only sing, but we dance
just as good as we want
just as if this 3 ring circus
hadn't come to town to stay,
and we realized too late we'd
given the ringmaster too much
discretion and now he's wading
into the crowd with the whip
once reserved only for the lions.

But this message from on high
that's washing me in the blood
is as primal as a heartbeat
and the old gal with her cart
that's doubling as a walker
is moving her hips in a way
that tells me to look away

I'VE GOT ANTS IN MY PANTS
LET'S DANCE!

And whether all of this bullshit
falls away one day
or we're in for a dystopian future
that'll make 1984 seem like a mere prologue,
my permanent escape
through the time warp in aisle # 5
is already booked,
knowing that all must pass
'cept for the one and only thing
that will save us in the end...
THE BEAT!!!