Fibers

I have lent my life to the dense fragments of dark,
when an eminent loss was approaching
A stark, dark way to a white-light fright.
How was I supposed to know the sun
wouldn’t dare shine in a mausoleum
The great divide of life is not the way we are;
it is the way we have been, that leads to the way we will be.
It is the first, the last, the eventual.

The who-we-are does not stay; it is gone before thinking
Enigmas-- what the hell is this strange crux?
The fuss of rage, be it soon, or now,
will not leave the home’s dome of despair.
Until a peace can come, even in a war zone,
there is no where, where we were.
There is a there, where we are!
We are lost; we are found; and we are regained.
The twinkle in an eye, from a strange, and merciful, God;
this is what we have. It has no boundaries;
it has no time; it is, endlessly, ending.
It is first; it is last; it is eventual.

This, among the fibers, is all we have to live upon.
It is the fiber that lends the “you”, to the “we”.
We are that unique blend of mind, soul, and fiber
that make us all, whoever we all are.
Crack open the lips, and be happy, for you are here.
What good is hovering over a loss;
what can that gain; and is it gain that we seek?
Gain is realized through loss; defeat most teaches.
What we learn from loss, we gain in life,
and the only good gain is that which helps others.
I am the first; you are the last; we are the eventual.
But, in the end, we are the same, you and I.

The stone that lies upon the ground will not move of its own.
Its only duty, to the man, is to lie unmoving.
It will only take up its cause when the man picks it up.
The cause for which it lies, is in how the man uses it.
Does he keep it; does he look at it; or does he throw it?
Nature leaves the stone for the man.
Eventually, some one will see it, and take an action.
The action he takes is in his nature.
The nature of his action is in him!
Nature is that abounding love that rims our mind.

Nature was first, we were last; a God is the eventual.

There is this nothing, but everything is the Nature.
She is friend, companion, grace, eloquence;
she is all that is love.
Nature is first, we are the last; a God is the eventual.
She is this mind of humankind,
and she loves all, even the stones

Joe

I remember folding my hands into my face when I heard the news. I guess when we were kids and ‘the bomb’ could drop any day, we kind of felt our lives drifting away to some other place. We knew that others, in other places, felt the same. But what could we do? We were kids and, the heavens were opening!
When our life’s mentor-messengers were falling into dying, we were
disturbed by the hole left in our souls. We felt like the angels must be angry at us for our frustrations to seek freedom. The fingers laced up into my brows and thought they felt the tear. Why wouldn’t we cry? It was our generation that was coming apart!
Our stars were falling out of the night sky...let this dying end!
My head rose as the finger tips touched the sides of my face. At first, there was no solace from the elders who didn’t understand
what freedom these Kings had brought, and given to us.
Oh no! The music didn’t end that night.
But, we had been changed by the tragedy of this. Suddenly, there was a suffering in us, that gave us, us. We were ready for change. We were defined by this moment, destined to remember the roots.
Our elders were afraid of Jerry Lee and, thought Buddy Holly was a Christmas decoration. Bless, you, Mother!

Three saviors came to lend our souls some ease, for we suffered so.
One arrived in sleeves of work. Yes, he came to slow this lonely ‘hotrod’ down. His words were geniused; telling us all we were born to run. Our wild generation had finally become tired!

Then, there was this crude ambler, who came upon the stage of our lives. Out of the Blues and rustic, lowdown, belch of the underworld.
The Farmer; the Working man; That old guy down on the corner,
who just wants someone to recognize that he is alive.

The third was the real ‘King’. We knew he was, finally up where he belonged. He had survived the crush, and crash, of hate, suspicion, and fear that would take us the rest of the way. He brought with him, a reckoning, of who we really were. Brothers, cut from of the same cloth, and, he brought that smile, and his funny ‘duck-walk’. Through our own Armageddon he walked with us.
The Boss, The Poet, and, The Father. We were not alone, after all!
Rhythm and words that lie, etched, on our stone.

We woke up one day to our Fathers and, our Mothers. We were Chuck Berry, they the Dorsey brothers. Now, we knew that the mantle had been passed and, we can see smiling faces at last. And, we all knew; this his was our life! When they saw their children and realized we really were human beings, that was the day they knew everything was all right and, they could go ahead and let us go!
Good bye to all of those who now fallen before us. Sam, Eddie, Buddy, The Bopper, Ritchie, Johnny Ace, were all gone and we had to move on with our lives. And, we did! We made it! We did okay, didn’t we? Look at us, Mom! How we doing, Dad?
A silent tear rolls to my hand. I had to get up and face the day.
How could they die on us like that? Why did they have to do that?
I had to be with my kind, to suffer this loss. We will be silent for just that moment; then, we will get wild again, in their names!
Because, we were ‘Rockers’! This was our cause!

Joe

God of my life, thank you for allowing me into another day. I do not ask for my life; I ask only that the life I have left be filled with kindness and respect for others, and that I live each day as my last. Please look upon my family and wonderful friends with kindness and love, especially my sisters, Diana and Kay, and help those who suffer Cancer's dread. PLEASE LET THERE BE PEACE IN THIS WORLD, ESPECIALLY FOR THE CHILDREN. And know that I speak in peace to all.

P.S. today only: Please let the Cardinals, Bears, and Hawkeyes win another championship before I go, (like you did in 1985). Thank you, great person, (Hey, she might do better than the guys can do). Hello? Are you still there? Hellooooo!
Joe

This morning, as I was saying my morning prayer, I spotted a Bird at the very tip of a Tree. I don’t know how they stay there like that. I assume, if it were windy, he couldn’t do that. But, what a view he had of the world around him. Somehow, as I prayed, it gave an extra shove to its meaning. The words came back into me, as if a doubling had happened. An emphatic appreciation of the Nature of it, maybe. I am dwelling good today.
Speaking of Birds, there is a huge Tree across our alley. Thousands, and I mean thousands, of Birds congregate there every morning. The noise of this is incredible. It’s like a big, boisterous, Union meeting. Old Stan Russell came over yesterday and said he was going to see if the city could do anything about it, because the noise is so intense, he can’t sleep. I laughed. He’s a harmless old guy (yeah, even older than me), but you can’t screw with Nature. I told him I didn’t think it was within the city’s province to mess with Bird meetings. He got kind of mad at me for making light of it. We also have a big controversy here about the trains blowing there horns. Big issues like that really get me cranked up. What a town! We’re at the mercy of terrorists; Stan wants to invade the Trees, and we want the trains to stop blowing their damn horns! Isn’t life strange?
Hey wait a minute! Maybe Stan’s onto something! Those Birds–maybe they’re planning something-a terrorist attack, maybe! Oh m’god, maybe they’re going to shit on us!!!! That’s it! The next terrorist attack–a bird shit attack!!!! They’re Bird Al Qaeda!!!! Mohhammad Al Robin, Yusef bin Starling, Joe Cardinal!!!!(How the hell did he get in there?). Jeez, I’m crazy this morning. Maybe it’s the medications, or a combination thereof. Nah, the birds wouldn’t hurtus –or, WOULD THEY?
Maybe it’s the literature I read. I like the Weekly World News. That’s the one with all those goofy stories. I love it. This week the headliner is: “Vampire Cat Captured--bowl of human blood used as bait!”. You gotta love that!
The A story, in my mind however, is the one that says–are you ready? “Alien arrested–and named in a paternity suit!”. Then it goes–“Deadbeat space dad nabbed by sheriff’s deputies.”. How come none of this stuff ever happens anywhere else?
“In the sleepy little town of Murrieta.”–it’s always some, “sleepy little town”. “Sheriff’s deputies saw an individual floating outside a bedroom window.” FLOATING? When Sheriff’s deputies came up him, why didn’t he just “float” away? I think this story is a little ‘fishy’! Apparently this woman, Stacey McCauley had an affair with the ‘floater’. She says: “My son needs a Father to be there for him.” Whoa daddy, she’s freaky!
“Studio buys movie script from Chimp!” Yeah right–studio executives said: “For us, it’s not the writer, but if the script has all the elements to make a good movie.” Yeah sure, I’ll bet it wasn’t that great! This isn’t just sour grapes because my script was rejected, either! I can write circles around that hairy little bastard! And that’s true–he really is illegitimate, you know! His Father was a circus Monkey! Gee, do I sound bitter?
Listen I have to go. I’m going to read about the: “Baby born with button nose.” No really, there’s a picture of a baby with a button nose. You know, a real button! I gotta get more sleep! Hey, have a great morning everybody. I love you guys.
Joe

(To be read with great adoration)

Drip away, my brown, liquid, residue
Pick up my presence and lick me, warm puppy.
Though your cradle becomes discolored,
with age and, you may feel the tinge of neglect;
I crave your loving brew.
Just remember, I love you, deliriously.
The hot steam of your sensuous breath
air-floating, from your heated essence,
does soothe my edged countenance.
Should you be left to grow chilled
from indifferent disregard,
hopefully, all can be forgiven,
for I do, at times, driftly go.
And, at times, I wish you lighter,
and sweeter; it isn’t because
I don’t love you the way you are.
It is because I love you in different ways.
Variety, my dear friend;
it is a seasoning to all of our lives.
You have been with me during
my hangover mornings.
You were my Sancho Panza
whan my babies came from their Mother.
And, you were there the times I was up all night
worried about my children.
You were there to make my morning,
before I walk off to work.
You were there when I got a phone call
saying that I had Cancer!
You were there, with me, my old friend!
You were there for me in my darkest hour of need.
You were always there.
The first thing I wanted, after dying, was you.
Yes, you, my dear old friend.
You have always been there with me.
You were there that rainy day in Korea;
on that hillside where depression lived.
You and me, in the rain, on the hill.
I thought about dying, that Spring day.
I had you there and, somehow we made it!
You spoke none of it; you didn’t argue me;
you didn’t criticize me; you were just with me.
The Sun shines, inevitable, now.
I am at peace with life, and death.
Wherever I go, you will go.
When a man steps to the edge,
he needs only an Angel, and a friend.
She is the one; you are the other.
How could I not be happy.

Joe