Darkness At The End Of Fall

Without leaves, tree branches glisten from late November rain

reflecting an empty light from the gray sky on the dead grass below

unshaven men in dirty clothes muddy their tattered shoes leaving old cars

soaked litter lies hopelessly where the wind draped it weeks ago

somehow the crows locate calmly-moving death and gather like huge flies

off in the muffled distance, an empty freight train squeals

muzzle frozen in a grimace a dead dog bloats down in the brown grass swale

the dark evergreen casts no shadow as a church bell strikes off noon

cold floors and dark closets await behind the dirty windows

rusting metal appears where the weedy shrubs long ago lost their leaves

naked lightbulbs hang dim from bare cords in moldy stooping-low basements

old pipes groan all night yet bring but very little dry and brittle heat

the light gives up completely in what seems like early afternoon

the muffling darkness grows stronger as it slows life every day

the mud grows hard in the morning after the puddles have skimmed with ice

the sun shines wanly an hour a week then quickly disappears

the nights are absent moon and stars beneath a low gray ceiling

colored lights are used to try and ward off the gathering gloom

cars idle inside steamy clouds of their own wastes and the people stay indoors

now the old, sick or weak fall prey to the first wave of infections

brown and rain-soaked dead leaves molder in every corner

lifeless flower beds sadly mock us with their current promise

sleep increases with the length of night and tiredness overtakes us all

there is little joy upon awakening in the gray and damp and cold

the lakes move steadily towards freezing and look duller than the skies

far off dogs bark away the dark hours in their lonely solitude

a howling wind springs up to freeze the rain upon the pavement

women shiver and grow pale as their skin dries to thinnest parchment

And castoffs walk the streets alone, absorbed in careful examination of the darkness

Who knows why I could not listen

who knows who I might have been

if someone would have spoken and I could have listened

who knows what I could have discovered

if I could have found myself

who knows where I would have journeyed

for had I even found a clue, I still would have feared to travel

who knows if I ever even came of age

since I always worshiped only youth

who knows why I did all those things I now must regret

it simply would not matter, if only they still made sense today

who knows how I poisoned every good opportunity

if I had really tried, I could not have done it any better

who knows who I might have worked with

if I did not always keep anger so close at hand

who knows what I could have become

if that blackness had not dwelt so deep inside

who knows where I would have settled

if I were not forced to flee myself so often

who knows when I might have slowed down

if I had not given myself up as very broken

who knows why I did not listen

if I ever even thought of that, I did not pay attention

who knows how I grew so tired

if I never really worked too hard at all

who knows who could have helped me on my way

if I was not sure where I was going

who knows what I was thinking

if I always thought I never had a clue

who knows where I would have stopped

if reality had not at last got in my way

who knows when I stopped living for the future

if I never stopped trying to forget my past

who knows if the doors would still have stopped opening

if I had not let them hit me as I left again, in the past

who knows how I was mistaken for one of the living

if I was the walking zombie I knew inside

who knows why I felt so empty

if I really was as full of shit as I believed

who knows how I stayed alive throughout the endless years

if I thought my life had ended so very long ago

who knows who I might not have brought to tears

if I could have just felt myself in her place

who knows what remains behind

if I come from a past that was always lived for today

who knows where I finally saw myself

if I was always running, and never looking back

who knows when I started trying just to slow down

if I now go downhill so fast, quite out of control

who knows why I act like such a macho

if I know I am a chicken-shit disgrace

who knows how much time I should not have wasted

if I wished to age without regrets

who knows who might have helped this boy

if I had not been too much of a man to ask

who knows what I might have heard

if I could have stilled those inner voices

who knows where I picked up so many wrong ideas

if I would not listen to anyone at all

who knows when I first looked up and saw the game was over

if I still appear to strive to win

who knows why I thought we were somehow different

if I just look around at all the things we’ve done

who knows how often I started over

if I am still so very close to the beginning

The Bag Man’s Tale

        An ode to the necessary medical removal of human dignity

Shuffling so very slowly down the street with your head cast sadly down

Carefully, so very carefully, one foot painfully, and barely, after another

Each step awaiting agony, with every tiny bump a shooting pain

Yet, that last one was not that bad, maybe just one more might be all right

How can you really help yourself when you walk so stiffly and so slowly?

Perhaps you should have just remained drugged and on your back in bed

So tired now after a tortured quarter-mile covered in just under 20 minutes

Young children sense fearfully the malignancy that controls your painful gait

Even small dogs, emboldened by your weakness, approach to run you off

There is no point in even looking at the young men passing by

And the women really do not see your faint shadow from their shiny cars

But the old people nod in recognition, remembering well, at the sight of you

Creeping along not lifting your feet or ever even bending your knees

Bag man with that disgusting mystery no one ought to see

Practicing the humility with which debasement has replaced your dignity

When they say that things could be worse they often point at you

Bag man, gray face sculpted by chronic pain into a wickedly grinning skull

Trying very desperately to walk so smoothly that he won’t feel a thing

Toenails grown long and yellow, white stubble and hairy earlobes

What made you scuttle into the light In those funny, wrinkled bedclothes?

Your sparse hair is sticking out in all directions and you don’t know or care

You’re too thin and the children see the yellow bruises from all of your injections

The muscles in your long thin neck distend as you grit your teeth with every step

Onlookers long to scream, just straighten up your back and walk upright like a man

The shabby slippers that you are wearing look so very wrong out on the street

Your weak presence both a lesson and an affront to the busy lives of others

Mr. Bagman shuffle back home now and fumble through all your medications

You’ve become all those things you never thought you could possibly grow up to be

Your pallor is unnerving and there is a redness about the whites of your eyes

You try to avoid their glances and answer in strained monosyllables

Your life reduced to merest painful basics, not unlike those great oriental Zen masters

Finding vast relief in the simple stillness following the great suffering of your trek

Would you really do something meaningful?

Are you so sure it ends up all the same that the toxics in your wake are easy to forget

Are you just as good as dead but still wasting resources while steadily increasing your debt

Do things seem to be moving faster though you are slowing down

Is there another sound bite to be swallowed every time you turn around

Are you absolutely convinced you could make no difference so you’ve nothing to regret

Why must you wantonly and guiltlessly smash and grab just as goddamn much as you can get

Do you live just for today, without any history, or even memory of the past

Are you striving to go for the gusto but merely gaining weight way, way too fast

Is it really just that you are so sure you can’t do anything that matters, anyhow

Is it all so overwhelming that you must just lay there flipping channels on the couch

Are you too old, too ugly or too poor to take part in this orgy of mass consumption

Does your anger spiral down into thinner layers of increasingly-black depression

Would you really do something meaningful if you were simply given just one more chance

Are you standing up for your beliefs or aping some advertiser’s well-scripted stance

Is there truly nothing you can do or is it way easier to float than to try to make a difference

Is it the end of the world or just a bunch of wacko conspiracy, junk-science nonsense

Have you found your true calling or are you just fiddling with your iPod

Are you quite positive that it all gets done with a cynical smirk, a wink and a nod

How many different ways have you found to say real loud that you just don’t give a fuck

How is it that your success to date really differs from plain and simple, dumb luck

Are you rushing hard and ever faster at goals that you have never even specified

Did you go out to contemplate the cold black emptiness and run back, quite petrified

Do you trust that blind individual hyper-patriotic greed earns the blessing of your god

Or is there a sense that the movers and the shakers are all part of some greater fraud

Got Lost Just Trying to Hide

All these years I kept trying to shield my mind behind a stand of mental trees

Trying to ignore and hide from the blind confusion raging on the other side

There was a vision that I followed, stumbling upon the rocks as I traveled

And everywhere I went, people quickly showed me just how wrong I was

But I was so sure I could make a life in the quiet, way back off in the shade

I tried hard not to notice the thoughtless waste and wanton destruction

I thought I could escape their dust and shouting and live the way that I chose

There should be a calm place that I could find, where they would not want to go

I trusted in myself and, despite all of our history, in the common sense of man

But the sounds of that brutal folly echoed, unimpeded through the trees

As I lie awake and listen closely to the stream and to the birds

All the sounds of our own mindless braying just keep running through my brain

At last through unending repetition, like waves upon a battered point

The force of their unconscious wisdom grinds my dreams into tiny grains

And whenever things seem to go a bit too smoothly, I do not dream too long

They awaken me with their cruel yet unconscious symphony of destruction

I hunker down somewhere quiet, that is good enough, because iI am alone

But quickly comes another Buddha, tossing empty beer cans instead of flowers

I always believed there was a place that valued wisdom over greed

Finally, I realize that our truth comes wrapped up like fish, in advertising papers

I remembered that I thought I might have glimpsed something, long ago

Now it’s just a tattered recollection of a lost memory that has lead me nowhere

All those years I watched my brothers drifting farther from the truth

And when I finally turned back around it was gone for me as well

I thought that I could find somewhere that people aged in grace and music

But there was no place for contemplation in our mass, fast-food life mentality

At first they treated me kindly, like foster parents to a slightly wayward child

Later came the mockery and malice and finally, their hatred and my failure

I merely sought a life with dignity, balance and respect, as in certain books

But found jealousy and greed, ignorance and false pride far easier to obtain

At last, convinced by dint of repetition, I see the error of my ways

So, now I struggle with the meaning of the emptiness that grows steadily within me

Finally won over, I glance about from within my spiritual tin roof and cardboard walls

God of perfect mercy why have you let me see just enough to make me ill?

Sobbing quietly in the dust, enfolded at last by the herd I had somehow lost

My eyes close now in warm acceptance as we blindly mill toward that beckoning abyss

There was a light that I followed, a chord within the breeze, a pleasing harmony

Now, all that is cast aside, as we swarm the promise of a gray universal mediocrity

I threw off old preconceptions, I groped and finally grasped the new reality

I embrace the media waves breaking over me with quiet tears of gratitude

I grasped at straws and came up short having accepted the true faith very late

Now I live with the gnawing guilt of having doubted for far too long

Striving always to find that place where the life I sought might await

Pushed back on the freeway so many times that I began to like it there

In the end, sweet surrender to that mindless groping for immersion in consumption

Sadly, too late for total binding within the fold of terminal channel surfing

From a ridge long ago, I saw a town in the sunlight of a forest clearing

I sought a small place amid its green gables near its one white steeple

I am no better than my herding brothers, just a bit unsettled for my dreams

I sought no place of honor, fame or fortune, but merely wandered off a bit

Now I find my absence has left me behind with the limping stragglers

Scorned and shunned by the healthy and an easy mark for any hungry predator

Mass Anger Mismanagement

we are angry at the grocery store, we rage alone in our financed automobiles

we are incensed at our inability to control even our own stupid feelings

our lack of control scares us enough to keep a pistol close beneath the car seat

we cannot swear, we cannot fight, but our resentment festers deep inside

mad that we are failures by the glib advertising standards that they force-feed us

our long sought-after calm shatters in a violent hypertensive instant

there is conflict in the predawn traffic, we awaken bitter late at night

heated disagreements brew during the happiest of family celebrations

diners are at each other’s throats while seated at their supposed leisure

people calmly riding bicycles gesture obscenely at the passing traffic

there is swearing at the televisions and the opinions on the gonzo radio

arguments erupt into violence over short walk fast-food parking slots

family members remain enraged for days over trivia they had forgotten

strangers grow too close, too quickly, in the bonds of instant violence

workers nurse bitter resentment and smilingly attack each other’s backs

sweet little mommies command replicas of paramilitary vehicles to shepherd kiddies

we hate the crowds that we must fight, we hate the fact that we are sheep

we resent being controlled by faceless, spineless corporate billionaires

we hate the perfect television roles that we can never hope to play

we despise the weakness and incompetence we perceive within ourselves

things heat up when we are drinking and domestic violence erupts

children push our buttons and become subjects of hysterical abuse

tax and spenders infuriate us with their godless fuzzy maths and junk science

so-called conservatives upset us, greedily slashing & burning everything in sight

fundamentalists rear back with the righteous wrath of god within them

ordinary people reflexively react to the latest gov’t bogeyman advisory

the middle-aged fume against those who have no cares but still have beauty

the young despise their worn-out elders but covet their possessions

the crowds are driven like the jews, for everything must be done in a hurry

the slightest inconvenience and it all goes up in anger and uncertainty

we break things if they don’t work right and call them dirty names

even sorority girls lay awake nights plotting revenge over a multitude of slights

retirees rant about the newspaper and then just try to take a few deep breaths

endless mental replays ensure that we can neither forgive nor forget

we rage about things that do not even affect us and that we absolutely cannot control

we raise blood pressure while relaxing with chants of woulda, coulda and shoulda

our children watch us hyperventilate over issues trivial and unimportant

and wonder why we castigate them when they raise their voices

men often think that killing something would bring them great relief

then, at certain times in our self-reflection we are shamed by what we see

the blindness and stupidity of other people almost drives us crazy

the more we dwell upon some trivial incident, the angrier we get

our path must be truly trying since we find that we must flail our docile pets

sometimes a simple stoplight can bring on suicidal regrets

just the sight of neighbors bringing changes to the place we live

might throw us into a state of rage we never truly comprehend

impotent husbands angrily try to control every move their spouses make

this merely a reaction to the helplessness that they know so well inside

children lash out at each other even before they learn to walk

when they are just a little older we teach them how to kill for real

surely anger is our natural state since that is how we find ourselves most often

therefore, heart attacks and strokes must surely be, measures of enlightenment

our anger must be well inbred, just look at the dogs that we have created

a Lab will never bite you, but never trust a pit bull

the angry man is a survivor, he kills and then he mates

thusly do his genes live on, but he dies full of violence, hatred and resentment

getting mad about being so mad is quite maddening in itself

then after anger overflows, there comes this stupid sense of guilt

still, despite our best intentions, we observe ourselves at it once again

trapped in a damned and miserable cycle, continuous and out of control

we despise those who are like us and hate those who are different

we resent the strong, revile the weak, and hate the old and the young, as well

voices on the telephone are quick to grow impatient

misunderstood intentions bring on anger which harms our relations every day

there are quarrels in the churches, factions struggle in the government

brothers stand against one other and strangers bond in instant hatred

attitudes are cultivated with an eye towards antagonism

opinions are expressed with an eye towards spurring conflict

opposing groups are brought together and baited like bulls and bears

deliberate attempts stir up controversy merely to provoke a nasty spat

we have these wars on poverty and terror that we must all take part in

and this guerrilla war on science and education that we will surely win...

politicians often tap into sources of public disaffection

pushing buttons to manipulate opinions and to reap emotional votes

fueling up on caffeine and dissatisfaction we go forth to fight out our daily lives

late at night the best can only mumble in confusion, sadly asking for forgiveness

How Did I Get Here?

where did all those young people go

when you did not see them for a while

where does this strange person come from

who now greets you in the mirror every day

why have all the dreams deflated

to lie fading, ripped, wet and dirty in the mud

why does sleep begin to fail us

at the time we need it most

when did swimming upstream

give way to treading water

when exactly does the search for meaning devolve

into a mindless quest for numbed out comfort

how did those eyes, once so bright and clear,

become so cloudy and so lifeless

how do our voices, once so rich,

morph into such pointless cackles

what has become, as time passed by unnoticed,

to those who now toil only in the past

what was that lesson, almost completed,

just before this long twilight fell

where did all those dancing footsteps go

we left behind us in the sand

where are those fads of yesterday

we found so real and so important

why are all the roads now closed down

except the one-way that you're driving on

why do all these others, around your age,

look so old and tired

when did that child get up

and simply slip away

when will the voice inside finally say

now it’s time to leave

how can all these things that happen

really make the world grow better every day

how easily can we forget

those that go away without us

what can we do to try

and make up for all the wasted years

what became of that load of worries

that drove us for all that time

where are the many things

that we used most every day

where is the grandma's voice

that soothed the little boy

why is it now such a real task

to simply do our grocery shopping

why do we find ourselves more at funerals

than at the weddings of our friends

when will the truth finally emerge

from this roil of confusion

when did the thoughtless night lights

first hide the Milky Way

how can we justify our inaction

to those that inherit its results

how can our thoughts still be clear and true

when our bodies are so wracked and frail

what tales can we tell each other

to ward off the approaching darkness

what difference did that smile make

in this vast sea of empty faces

where are those fantastic opportunities

presented so appealingly in the glossy media

where are the charismatic mega-fauna headed

as we hunt them down and burn them out

why do I look now to the marketers of heaven

except to try and purchase life insurance for my soul

why do my days seem to focus on some dark pinpoint

instead of towards a window, open to the sun

when does one stop and say at last

now this is the happily ever after

when will the heat stop increasing

in our living blue-green space capsule

how do impoverished babies of confused little girls

grow up to be fit and moral human beings

how much time still remains to do

those things we always knew must really matter

what further savage acts are called for

to spur us on to our duty

what other, higher emotions, must we quietly forsake

just to keep ourselves trudging duly forward

Assiduously Pounding Sand

To engage fully in some futile activity

Along with all the braying hordes we pilgrimage to the magic places

Driving, drinking, demanding and defecating

Snapping memories at safe and well-marked backdrops

Then hopping back inside to drive on for another few more years

And, baby, it all amounts to just as much as simply pounding sand

At those very special points of interest, where nature spoke to a great soul so long ago

Thousands more now walk and snack, litter, laugh and urinate

They are pounding sand and moving empty holes, from one place to another

Ticking off itinerary items on rushed side trips towards a mindful fulfillment

Following the signs to littered scenic overlooks to snap the memories of a lifetime

Hurrying in the footsteps of long gone inhabitants and explorers

Experiencing another artificially cultured revelation before returning to the car

Driving what seems like way out into the quiet and empty backcountry and finding safe crowds

Returning safely as the snacks run low and the kid’s boredom grows

They think briefly of the deep meaning here, that they read of in the shiny brochure

Stalwart adventurers with electric generators

Taking matching 40’ RVs on a million identical voyages of self-discovery

Pounding sand but pissing blood, as it happens, and it seems, way too soon

Stripped of all dignity and grace by their very own swarming numbers

Unappreciated sights disappearing in their unused rearview mirrors

Like some vast post-modernist zen poultry operation

Flipping the remote with one hand and clapping with the other

Keeping the sound of no sound safely muted

By the pointless cackling and the idle strutting of the lamed

Preserving only the illusion until it’s too late to grasp anything else at all

Pounding sand and shouting until we grow quite hoarse and still

Pointless microscopic sparks in one ever-expanding and darkening universe