I raked together a few words...a bunch of them, or so it seems...just did it tonight, I suspect they've been rattling around inside my head for a long time...perhaps I'm just channeling my little folksinger Dusty Waters when I do stuff like this...these Poe-emz of mine...they're always raw and far from refined, still fluid in such a way that I will continue to add to it or subtract from it, and probably will only make sense as spoken words rather than read on a screen...maybe one day I'll attempt that...not tonight. It's name is "Vexation", and it goes like this...
I am vexed. It is all commonplace at first glance—as it should be—
The sky is blue—or gray depending on the weather—there is snow
now—grass will come later—the bare bones of trees have
buds waiting to burst, but when I take a careful look
around—I know better than that.
I could wake up screaming some times,
but I don’t. Screaming solves nothing. What will be—
will be. Indeed. Where do I dare to look?
No blood.
There or there. No—wait—
wait for it—maybe? Ah, no, I’m wrong.
It’s a photograph of trauma—the latest life drama
right there on the front page—right there on the television
and there on the latest gadget screen. Where to look first?
Don’t blink.
Don’t look away. Dang, it’s another train wreck of yet
another individual
blowing their wad—their existence—
constituted misery—making a mess for others to clean up.
So much loss happened long before the aftermath.
Someone dropped the ball between here and there.
Shit, they didn’t look both ways. Don’t you know by now?
Stop – Look - Listen for the two sides to the story.
Don’t you see? Can’t you see?
Amend—make amends—amendments—
Adjust yourself—ourselves—
in keeping with the situation.
Running around putting out fires,
it’s all gone before you know it—
before you knew you had it.
Don’t blink
or you’ll miss it.
Just a moment—a moment of being. Be.
I wonder ‘how come’. What the fuck, right? Seriously.
Some days I feel like I’m running a marathon while standing still.
Beleaguered. Belabored. Be. Been.
The cold Winter wind that lingers on the Spring equinox breath
is disheartening. My feet are chilled, but I’ll get over it.
Some are sure it’s just a phase we’re in—adjusting.
The world is appalling to me—these days
I am vexed
by it all. Tired. Dead dog tired
of the latest ‘it’ thing. It is—it was—it will be—
It and the many things ‘it’ is—or possibly
can be.
My head can just about pop off my body from thinking—
listening to it all. Whose side are you on—you choose.
Right or left—wrong or right. My country ‘tis of thee—
What happened to my sweet land of liberty? Of thee I—
Of thee... See? I can’t even sing the words—my vexation runs deep.
So I choose to laugh at the way things are—shake my head
in wonder of it all. Disbelief—how come—how now,
dear old brown cow.
I hope to be safe
here on my acre of the world—my home sweet home—
the one place I can call my own—
there are no guarantees of that either—no matter what I do—
staying out of it while being in the middle of it all.
No wonder I’m so vexed.
LJW 3/20/2013
