Day: January 6, 2020

I have read
more than one poem
By a poet
who has been published
I wondered
what was so enticing
What was so profound
in his work

Not getting it
is universal
Listening to some
incoherent ramblings
by those who
have been proclaimed great
Leaves one
wondering

I am going to
keep writing
But should
that road
lead to
obliterating reality
or hiding in the
rendition of muck

Then someone
whomever you might be
Please come and
take my stuff
Burn it
and then
take me
over your knee

Stanski
January 6, 2020

The clingers; I feel for them
All they have is the false narrative
How depressing; they should be seeking
The truth; but blinded, they cannot see

Good people in many ways
Many accomplished in their art
But swayed unfortunately by prejudice
Cannot tolerate being wrong

Authenticity is not recognized
Nothing but love for the country
Will not send 150 billion in cash
To keep the enemy from being rash

Death to America is not CNN
But agendas seem to parallel
Lies do not improve the ratings
Or stop the teeth from abrading

Liberal cities in America
Troubled by the homeless, drugs and feces
Needles, urine and disease; stores closing
The left’s toleration is imposing

Open borders allow sex trafficking
Rapes increasing; illegal drugs are flowing;
Causing death and so much sorrow
What if not checked will it be tomorrow

The cult is happy; they throw their jeers
Blinded by simpletons; oblivious to tears
The President is at fault; put the blame on him
Do not accuse the left; that would be a sin

Stanski
January 6, 2020 ^

The only town I knew when I was young
Was the one I still love, now that I am old
There were no streets paved with gold
Or a history with stories left untold

We were a neighborhood
Part of a bigger city
A collection of characters true
Docile or stern, grim or witty
Curfews and standards
Things we just wouldn’t do

Credit at the bakery
Joe, who repaired the shoes
Paint store and flower shop
They were all places you knew

Even then I wondered what
I would do to put a claim on fame

Cecil the butcher would help you
Decide on the very best cuts
Hammer and Cortenof, the hardware
Carried the very best stuff

Harry Shook at City Service Station
Was part of the big family
You didn’t want to get out of line
He would take you over his knee

Kick the can and marbles
Basketball until all hours of the night
Kids of different backgrounds and color
Seldom was there ever a fight

Drugstores on every corner
Sometimes it was hard to choose
You could not pick a bad one
Really nothing there to lose

Lawn jobs, raking and mowing
Shoveling snow all winter long
Character developed unwittingly
Harmony and love, like a song

Gone now are the dear old neighbors
Mr. Warwick won’t be seen again
Dr. Slemons, old man Clark and Mr. Johnston
Nobody left it seems

It was a great, fine brotherhood
Room for every quirk and scheme
No one blowing taps for the other guy
Too much on your own plate it seemed

When you left you really didn’t leave
You moved, but you still held the dream
Home means different things for sure
Logan Street will always be home to me

Stanski
January 6, 2020 ^