Thursday, May 9, 2019
HARD RAIN
I'll give you something to dream on
with your dream catcher above the bed
an Indian summer
a band of wild Indians war whooping
and an arrow stuck in your butt
as just desserts for rooting for the
cowboys in those old western movies
when you were a kid
A hard rap on the knuckles
with a ruler
for every time you caught
fireflies in a jar
they died in there
just so you could see
some twinkly lights
shallow child
There are only stolen moments of joy
(admit that now and you'll be free)
all the rest is just the tedium of life
as seen through rose colored beer glasses
Would you cough your life up
like a hairball
examine it
and swallow it again?
And I want to see an honest epitaph that says:
Here lies ol' Bob
his life wasn't horrible
but it kinda sucked
I sometimes reflect upon
who and what I might have been
had I gone off to kill people
at the behest of some politicians
I was twisted enough as it was
I can't imagine
I can't imagine
But thank you for your service
thanks for defending our slavery
And the animals are marching
2 by 2
as if they knew
a hard rain's a-gonna fall
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh, I feel this poem. I cringe at how unconscious I was back then - how most of us were back then. I once sat in a small theatre in a First Nations community, watching a western - and how the natives laughed in derision at the events on the screen. Yikes. And the fireflies. I am glad you did not go to war, Tim. Yes, it would have been bad. I think of how young those soldiers are, finding themselves suddenly plunged into hell.
ReplyDeleteSherry, I always appreciate your insightful comments. We make choices throughout the course of our lives, and they are either of a conscious nature or an unconscious nature. The unconscious things we do have far-reaching effects, to which the world is just beginning to wake up to now.
DeleteWow, this is for sure one of your best, friend Tim … Honest and to the point with a smidgen of mystery because you allow the reader room to interpret … The great flood is already happening … So be sure to have at least one plastic straw ready for you in order to breathe ... in case of drowning in what ever it is happening, eh?
ReplyDeleteMuch love, cat.
WOW--and this is one of my favorite comments of yours! Yes, a supply of straws is something we should keep handy, as long as they are the environmentally good kind...but if the Great Flood is unleashed, then just grab whatever you can!
DeleteGah, Tim, this one really hits me.
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine
I can't imagine
And now they beat the drum of war
and I look at my skinny teenagers
I can't imagine
I can't imagine
And that epitaph... Yep.
Thanks so much! The disparate reflections that fit into a theme that you don't realize is a theme until you start humming it. (Hope you doin' good)
DeleteAn arrow stuck in your butt. Now, that's my kind of poetry!
ReplyDeleteWe had problems with fire ants in my family home, so one Fourth of July my brother and I went around blowing up their hills with M-80 firecrackers. I really don't want to think about what I might deserve for doing that.
We've all done similar things when we were kids...it's when we continue with that kind of behavior as adults that perhaps we should seek professional help--lol
DeleteDamn that image of life as a hairball! I mean, when you put it that way...
ReplyDeleteThere's a lot we've swallowed because of ignorance. Hopefully time has taught us the wisdom to inspect what it is we ingest, both mentally and physically.
So much of it is monkey see, monkey do, eh Rommy? I've gone back and forth on the question of whether I would swallow that hairball again and do it all over the same way. But then when I consider (as in the poem) that there are only stolen moments of joy--or euphoria--well, there can be a long time between those moments, and what transpires in the interim may be closer to Hades than to heaven.
DeleteAnd I want to see an honest epitaph that says:
ReplyDeleteHere lies ol' Bob
his life wasn't horrible
but it kinda sucked
love it...honesty is all that is left after the Easter Bunny visits...bkm
The Easter Bunny has come and gone...and all he left were some rabbit "pellets" on the ground :)
DeleteIt's probably politically incorrect but I still smile when I think of F troop, and Doris Day smooching some heart throb in a starched apron when she should have been a good role model for women studying for a PhD in quantum physics.There is a lot to be said for escapism...people have to take drugs to cope with reality..it's very bad for the health:)
ReplyDeleteI saw an interview with Doris on the Johnny Carson show--I think she was in her sixties then--and she was there with no bra, and she was kind of a salty old gal...which was so refreshing, and I'll bet a big relief for her after trying to maintain that image for so long--ha ha. Let's escape to the Tunnel Of Love...it's dark in there. Why do we think of it as being more romantic when it's dark? I guess because looking at each other in the cold light of day might discourage some of those amorous feelings!
ReplyDeleteWe were so innocent, so unaware of anything back then. and then came the war...
ReplyDeleteThe end of the innocence...hey, that's a song. But you are right. It made cynics out of us, but a good healthy cynicism, or at least skepticism, is what's required these days.
DeleteI remember the day I realized the cowboys (well, in my case it was the conquistadores) were nothing but murderous bastards. I was a very young 5th grader reading a book (not meant for me) that detailed what happened during the arrival of Christopher Columbus to the Dominican Republic. My heart broke... because, you see, I had been one of Columbus's most fervent admirers. I mean, the man was such a pioneer and blah, blah, blah... When I saw (and understood) what he had actually done, I wanted to go back in time and joined the Tainos who burned some of his ships.
ReplyDeleteThese days, I'm perplexed at the behavior of adults who continue to worship the memory of that monster. I wonder if your poem could spare an arrow or three... or, perhaps, a very pointy oar.
Plenty more arrows to go around Magaly! We've been sold a line of B.S. down throughout history because those books were written from the white man's--the conquerors' perspective. Thanks for your very passionate and insightful comment. Hope you continue to do well, Champ! Love, T.
DeleteThe worst part of our life is that it takes so much time to really understand how much it really sucks.
ReplyDeleteYou're starting to sound like me, ha ha. But if you're a realist, you've got to tell it how it is. Here's to some of those fleeting moments of joy!
DeleteNice!
ReplyDelete__ But, with my humble apologies Tim, my -oldthink- caused me to wander back and enter something I read... so long ago. _m
room 101
fire flies in a jar
two by two was five
That's an intriguing one, my friend. But most of yours are. Cheers!
DeleteWould you cough your life up
ReplyDeletelike a hairball
examine it
and swallow it again?
That's ugly, but fantastic.
I'm seeing lots of posts telling me not to feed bread to ducks. That's another childhood memory ruined. Ah well.
Thanks, Sarah! There were varying degrees of mindless things we did back then. If you watch any of the old movies, people had cigarettes in their hands in almost every scene. No wonder those people who were born in 1910 are all dead now!
DeleteI like that stanza about those fireflies.
ReplyDeleteIt was all about our own gratification with no regard for how it affects someone or something else. The only thing that has changed today is that it's about INSTANT gratification, with little regard for how it affects someone or something else.
DeleteYou see that's the thing about life .. the younger we are the more ignorance seems to shield us in its rose-coloured glasses. But once the glasses are off we are plunged into reality by a rude awakening.
ReplyDeleteAnd the more we can be forgiven, I suppose, for that ignorance because we were young. But what excuse do we have today when kids grow up so fast? There's virtually no "childhood" anymore in the way I experienced it in my day. (grumble grumble...)
DeleteWar is insane, and always over money, resources, ans power. Lost a lot of friends in Viet Nam...
ReplyDeleteThanks for checking in, man. Insanity defines this whole world, but nothing more obviously fits that description than war. Viet Nam was a shameful testament to all the things you've mentioned, but not the only one.
Delete