Rock Accountant

Category: Poetry

Please repeat

How fun it is

to say again

To repeat the preferred

episodes of my life

over and over.

I remind me

of how wonderful

I have been at times.

Wonderful and happy.

I have had sadnesses,

of course,

but those are now

all by themselves

unnoticed.

There are still the quarrels

in me

over whether time

was wasted .

I think we all have those.

My life is floating timelessly

on the petals of my past.

Memories are all you can ever be.

Image result for memories

My Future

At my most recklessly honest and envious, I have to accept that my son is my only opportunity to see a future for which I can not last.

What Everything is Not

With every poem,
there comes
a sad confession
that it is not
a hundred page
novel.

Something Big is Gone Forever

Every black person
freezes me,
at that moment
when I was five
when my mother
is screaming at me,
“Look at what you have done.”
Her favorite vase,
shattered
at my feet
dropped
on the floor.
I can’t lookup.
I can’t put it together.
Something big
is gone forever.

See the source image

Bad Laughter


Hurting someone with laughter
makes the hurt forever.

 

I Laugh At You Quotes. QuotesGram

Voiding Nature’s Cruelty

Inequity has no headwater.

It is indelible

and within most lifetimes

only fades a bit.

It is part of life.

A life of balanced hopefulness

is impossible without

first digesting fully this truth.

We have built Gods, laws, and political parties

to correct inequality

and when these always fail to satisfy us,

we turn on each other.

Many in disappointment

spend all their time sawing away despondently

at the very limbs they are sitting on.


Only personal happiness voids nature of her cruelty.

Mother Nature Fountain nature garden pond fountain ...

You Own Me


You needed a slave.
And I was handy.
To clear your conscious,
about what you had done
you let me die in your Civil War.
I believed it was about me.
I stepped up for the white World Wars
because I thought I was free.
I gave you willing millions.
You dragged me from my home
for Vietnam.
Black skin goes so well
with body bags.
I am there for you when
your kids do drugs.
I go to prison for them.
My children stay home alone,
and you argue about
other people’s children
crying on TV.
So here I am,
Not your slave
now your criminal.
With you, for you
still belonging to you.
You own me.

Waiting for you

Do your memories,

cast loose by life’s end

wait bewildered

for you to come back?

Like pets at windows?

God’s Will be done

I don’t believe God has a firmness of purpose.

Otherwise, you would notice him milling around more often.

I think God gave us his will,

as a going away present.

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Wondering About Wisdom

About wisdom. 

I care little.

Is it ever more than drifting

words of easy cleverness

that coax polished behaviors

 that barely last a morning.

The priests offer certainty 

in return for death.

If this is wisdom, 

what then is foolishness?

Birth?

When is wisdom ever a tool?

A utensil for eating life?

I have spent my life

like a child

chasing Easter eggs 

hidden behind bushes.

Thrilling at truths

painted in watercolors

that quickly washed away.

Then I found it 

in the last place,

I looked.

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