Haikus.

I've written about these before...and often planned on writing more of them.  I have them strewn accross every notebook in my house and on random documents on my computer.  My goals is to, if nothing else, share a few relatively often on here.  

Note that my view of the Haiku is that it is an expression of a moment.  To that end, I really don't care about the 5-7-5 structure though I try to stay close.  These are thoughts that were in my mind that needed to get out, but not necessarily in a longer or larger way.  Moments of frustration or people you see that need to be noted.  I think if I make posting these a habit, a lot of them are going to be about doctor things and baby things.




 

I Don’t want to be

a doctor anymore.

I just want to be a dad.

Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah

I should start but there’s a wall.

So I’ll sit and wait.

Elementary school kid

In a pea coat and turtle shell backpack

My vision of adulating.

I’ve been trying to finish

The same book for eight months

I’ve gone to far to not like it.

I will never get

when I play them a new record,

No one else gets pumped

The Church of Competition

I have seldom if at all written over the last year and a half.  This idea came to me, and this poem didn't quite get to exactly how I felt so I'll try again, but here it is, something...fresh off the brain.  This one is about how no matter how hard we try we end up comparing ourselves to others and competing when cooperation would be so much more pleasant.  I think everything in our society is set to train us this way and have us worship competition. 

 

The Church of Competition

Give an offering, sacrifice and say a prayer,

Used to wear shirts that said No Fear,

And now I should be wearing a pressed collar

And a well tied tie.

No Pain No Gain

            But no one seems to be Gaining much

Light candles, light candles,

We’ll sit in a circle,

And listen to Bible verses set to acoustic guitars

As we worship at the church of Competition.

There are trophy stores on every corner

To award God’s plan,

There’s one for the winners

And mysterious ways for all the rest.

Luck be a lady,

God and Uncle Sam are men.

Jesus and the Lombardi trophy. 

So reheat this country’s best delivery pizza,

Delivered faster than the competition,

In car and driver 1993’s safest vehicle.   

And

Light candles, light candles,

We’ll sit in a circle

And listen to Bible verses set to acoustic guitar

As we worship at the Church of Competition.

Pull ourselves up by our bootstraps,

It’s about how hard you work. 

And the cream always rises to the top

Like the foam on a 12$ cappuccino.

Best coffee in town.

Along with the best food carts

And best restaurants located within gas stations

Who compete to see who has the most gas.

To avoid the pump, I’d like to ride my bike,

But I don’t ride fast enough,

My shoulders slouch in an unattractive way.

But there’s always a great spot

Open to lock my bike,

With number one brand U-Lock

Outside,

And

Light candles, light candles,

We’ll sit in a circle

And listen to Bible verses set to acoustic guitar

As we worship at the church of competition.

So turning away

From an artificial shared condition,

To the mirror that tells me

I started this whole race with

Wealthy white male lead.

I still want my opinions to be yours too

To make a living,

I have to be the best.

Convince people,

I’m better.

So I guess I need to open my Bible

And read Revelations,

Where God rigged the game,

Cheated to win,

Mirror that mindset

And

Light candles, light candles,

We’ll sit in a circle

And listen to Bible verses set to acoustic guitar

As we worship at the church of competition.

It’s just business but it’s not.

I’m raising my daughter the best I can,

To be the best she can be,

I can only rate my performance by comparison.

Comparison to friends and acquaintances

            And with less euphemisms, strangers.

I gave up on praying a long time ago,

But I pray to be the best,

And the only way to be the best

Is to beat the best

And to stand towering

            Over,

The corpse of their lesser approach to life.

And

Unbeknownst

Unintentionally,

I wonder into a shiny storefront

On the strip mall that is decision making

Only to stumble into,

And prostrate myself to…

Light candles, light candles,

I sit in the circle

And listen to Bible verses set to acoustic guitar

As I worship at the Church of Competition.

New Year, New Goal to Write Stuff.


End.

The Books

The Books

Rockers have a chord book
Rappers have rhyme book
Academics have a text book
Poets have a forest with the silhouette of child looking longingly at an abandoned bird's nest as she clutches a tattered journal.

I'm getting too old for this shit.

This poem was started last night as a response to bruising my shoulder moshing at a Bad Religion concert.  After the bombing of the Boston Marathon today and a few conversations, the poem grew.  I don't know if it's really a coherent view or idea, but it's what came out.  As usual, this is a first raw draft with no real editing.  Play the song at the bottom while reading if you want.

This Shit

-->

1.  I am too old for this shit.

Thirty and my joints creek a bit.

Mistreated by a life time of bad diet,

Disused,

Accented by occasional mosh pits,

            Speakers, and

Headphones cranked far past 11.

Before long, my hearing will be gone,

I will have to imagine the power chords.

One night spent letting loose

            Followed by a day searching for

            Occult bruises

            Trying to pop my shoulder.

2.  Then I stop and read the news.

I am getting to old for this shit.

We are too old for this shit.

Humanity should be a grown up by now

We have bruises as a species. 

            Deep scars of history.

I check the instant updates on news feeds

            Waiting for an explanation, a motive.

3.  I am too old for this shit.

I stopped justifying myself long ago.

I still play with Legos and listen to music written for

Pissed off teenagers in the 90s. 

I don’t believe in God, but I believe in people,

            And the fact that most of us would pull

            Perfect strangers out of the rubble.
My morals are based on comic books.

I believe in Earth and global society,

            That clicks along without regard of my greatest acts.

4.  I am too old for this shit.

Who cares who, why, how?

The reaction is the key.

No matter how many fuses are lit, bombs triggered by satellites and cell phone towers.

            There will be people to rebuild it all with,

Sore shoulders, bum knees, leaky guys,

Food allergies, bipolar disorder, and OCD

All that be damned.

I am too old for this pessimistic, disgruntled worldview,

begat by hate and disease on all sides

or the news picking at the fresh scab.

5.  So I turn up the speakers and look for tomorrow.

You’re never too old for tomorrow,

            Until you are,

           
6. And then it doesn’t matter anymore.

Never too old for this shit.  

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD (LONDON PLAGUE PIT)

Stanley Mathew's Response to this news article.  If you're offended, screw off....

 http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/15/world/europe/uk-london-skeletons/index.html?hpt=hp_c1

Bring Out Your Dead

BUILD A NEW RAIL,

Uncover the BLACK DEATH,

They found a Plague Pit,

While digging mass transit,

London’s fucking calling,

The BUBONIC IS BACK. 

An out of work professors says there’s

50000 bodies buried

in what’s now called Farrington.

London’s Burning,

But now we know to blame the rat

And spare the cat.

It’s a motherfucking PLAGUE PIT.

On Friday they found 13,

Dig a little deeper,

Let’s put in an underground mall.

Pull out the bodies…
Call Dr. Who

And Sherlock Holmes

And Starbucks,

The archeologist needs some coffee.

We need entertainment.

Dig em’ up

Dig em’ up

Carbon Date and throw them in the channel,

They’re witches if they fucking sink.

Witch CORPSES In the MOTHERFUCKING PLAGUE PIT.

Bring out the dead.

Election of the new Magus Summum Part 1

I am a little obsessed with the whole pope-picking process.  I am not religious and have never been Catholic... but it all just seems so magical.  I feel like by changing a coupe words and none of the costumes I could be reading and watching some epic high fantasy.  In that spirit and all in fun:

This Just In,

Breaking News!

 

The chimney over the Pristine Chapel is releasing a white smoke into the starry Mediterranean Sky, indicating to the world that a new head wizard has been chosen.  The Chapel is known for its expansive depiction of the Spell of Creation, painted on the Chapel’s ceiling centuries ago by painter and summoner Michelangelo.  Usually it is a gathering place for pilgrims to make offerings and receive enchantments.  For the last 48 hours it has been the world’s most powerful and mysterious polling station.  Over the last several weeks, wizards of the order of Cardinalidae have been arriving at The Veneficus City to elect to a Magus Summum to lead them after the resignation of Magus Summum Dumbledorus XII. 

As many as 10,000,000 wizards, magicians, and powerless humans have descended upon the spellbinding Veneficus City and the ancient dwarven city of Rome in which it is nested.  Each of these pilgrims comes praying to witness both history and the future with one wave of a wand and the chanting of a few choice orsi opus or words of power. 

Soon, the Vox du Cardinalidae, Veneficus Spokeperson Cardinalidae Saltator of France, will step to the Pristine balcony overlooking the throngs gathered in the Veneficus square, cast a voice amplification spell, and announce to the world who the order has chosen to guide their order and lead humanity’s defense against Magus Malficus. 

The question on everyone’s mind is whom will they choose.  Will it be Cardinalidae Periporphyris, the confidant of Summum Dumbledorus?  Maybe they will look outside of Europa and choose someone from the United Norse Territories of Leaf.  Another popular option is Cardinalidae passerine of Southern Africa.  This would be seen as a move towards reform for the wizarding world.  However, the favorite appears to be Cardinalidae Rhodothraupis of Tropicalia.  He defends one of the few parts of the world where a strong faith in magic and old ways is not just present but growing.  Remember, that the Magus Summum could be anyone who believes in magic, however the election of someone outside of the Cadinalidae is exceedingly unlikely.

It is always said that real magic takes time, but it appears the time is coming in mere minutes.