Thursday, January 24, 2013

The Gunslinger

The outer voice is easy to squelch.
Just shutter the mouth,
tie up the tongue,
lock the jaw so nothing can escape
except for the humming
of Red River Valley or Home on the Range.
Feed him a meal twice a day,
cups of black coffee,
a cigar every now and then,
he’ll be happy to stay put,
safe in his cage,
a menace to no one.
The inner voice, on the other hand,
is a hired gunslinger who refuses to go quietly.
He sits at the bar drinking warm whiskey,
keeping his covered eyes peeled
for just the sight of you.
He lifts his face as you walk through the batwing doors,
belly up to the bar,
order a beer.
He sneers,
insults your look, your talk, your walk,
the horse you rode in on
just to see how you’ll react.
Most days you believe him,
agree with him,
walk out in shame,
the townspeople watchful and disappointed.
But some days you call him out,
stand in the dust,
pull leather,
watch him fall.
Tomorrow is a new day,
a new chance to confront the gunslinger,
and you'll battle on,
knowing full well when this fight will truly end --
when the undertaker says so.

Friday, January 18, 2013

The Lady of Gallifrey

I only knew her as the Lady of Gallifrey,
Of which state, or continent, I hadn’t a clue.
It never appeared in the almanacs I knew,
But she called it home, and no more would she say.

She had a travelers look to her, tall and in charge
Like she knew where she was every moment in time,
And enjoyed her existence like a child would, sublime,
Marveling at everything, whether small or quite large.

On the outside she appeared as you and I would,
Except for the chopsticks she wore in her hair.
She had a large gait and an all-knowing stare,
And was always in motion, she hardly just stood.

So gentle and kind, brilliant and wise,
Fair play and dignity were rules not to break.
Her love for mankind she would never forsake
And preferring adventure was no big surprise.

But inside was different, much bigger, like a storm
That is lying in wait behind a pair of green eyes,
And if you dared cross her with violence and lies
She’d unleash a maelstrom even hell couldn’t form.

I’ve seen her cast demons from Earth to the stars,
I’ve seen her stop time with a flick of a hand
Then rewrite the heavens to obey her commands
But always the lady, never going too far.

And then she’d depart to a new time or place,
Leaving behind those of us who just met her,
Whoosh, she was gone, off on some new adventure,
Whoosh, she was gone, without leaving a trace.

Yes, I only knew her as the Lady of Gallifrey
I met her just once in my life long ago
And we’ll meet again someday, that I do know,
But when, is too hard for me exactly to say.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

O Christmas Tree

O Christmas Tree I helped the tree to bed today,
18 days past her bedtime,
with nary a fuss
because even SHE knew
she was tired
and needed to sleep.

For awhile,
someone or other
would turn on her lights,
let her sparkle and shine,
extending the magic of her season
for just another night,
but eventually
we stopped.

And she stood lonely
in the corner
waiting for slumber
and to dream tree dreams
and such
of which none of us
have a clue.

So I helped the tree to bed today,
pulled the covers up to her chin,
sang her a sweet lullaby,
and wished her pleasant dreams
until we meet again.

And she said the same,
in her quiet plastic tree way.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

The right time to fall on your sword

She said I had crossed the line.
I disagreed and stood my ground.
“You can deny it all you want,” she said,
“but you don’t have a leg to stand on.”
I looked down and saw two very good strong ones,
and let her know as much.
She asked me why I was arguing
when the truth was plain to see.
“The truth,” I replied, “is in the eye of the beholder
who just so happens to beholding
a camera.”
In a show of bravado,
I got out of the car,
and took a photo
of the right rear tire
just touching,
but not trespassing across,
the yellow parking-space line.
I showed her the proof,
the truth,
and exclaimed for all to hear:
“I never,
no not ever,
cross the line!”
She rolled her eyes at me and replied,
“Oh, really?” 



Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Happy New Year

But really ... it's just another day.

Another rainy day.

No, really, it's raining outside. Like it hasn't stopped in a couple of days. Just drizzling, but technically still rain.

And the rain is a wall that you don't really want to climb over. Better just to stay inside, drink hot chocolate, read a book, think lofty thoughts like:

The rich have everything money can buy.
The poor own everything else.

Anyways, it's a new year and I thought I should recognize it in some way or another before it gets its feelings hurt and takes it out on me and my family, like 2012 did.

So, Happy New Year 2013.

Please be kind.