Tag Archives: capitalism

A man, a plan – Panama

14 Oct

Damn, if he doesn’t look just like you

He will

I left room in my life for someone

Like you

Planned your life

In spite of

Or despite

Someone like me

Maybe now that she sees

How happy you are

She will

Come back

In time

You might too

Eventually, someday, maybe

She might find

A man with a plan

Same as me

With a little cut-out in the shape of a heart

Just like hers

So she can close the book

Slide it back into the empty spot

Where it belongs

And be content

With someone

Just like

We planned

jardin botanica

aibohphobia n. The fear of palindromes.

Chapter 2 – In the supermarket world

29 Jul

Why does the child’s sand castle stand

Without praise

How can we pass a young girl’s upward smile

Without giving the same

Where can a little boy go when he is lost

In the supermarket world

What will it take to

Make us see

A love without question

Is all we need

To be free

And the child’s castle

Will fly a proud flag

And a smile for each passer by

Will keep us warm inside

And the world won’t be as cold

As the frozen food aisle

Anymore.

Chapter 1 – Liars

15 Jun

I know all there is to know

About liars

They are the forgetful ones

The ones with busy schedules

No courage left for truth

Honesty doesn’t make money

Men do

Tell me what I want to hear

Then disappear

You’ll never stop selling yourself

But you’ll always come up short

You think the ways of the world

Are yours to fondle

You’re buying wealth and gaining

Power. You say everyone and

Everything can be bought or sold

All the while this devil has closed

The deal on your soul.

Chapter 1 – Knave of Spades

4 Jun

Ascetic

A fool in the guise of a wise man

Knave of spades

Neither name nor trade

Grace his thrown

Of greed

He speaks sweetly

Demanding riches

Swallowing power by

Sufficient handfuls

$een by all, known to many

Loved in/visible circles by

Mindful, thoughtless

Crowds

Idiots, raving at their

Individuality

Crazed, fiendish, provocative

Chapter 1 – Shoes Sleep

4 Jun

Shoes sleep in silent purple splendor

Pockets swell with nuggets for the vendor

Empty bottles await ash

Book sewn

Weaving words not easily vented

Bed warm – body strong

Will is no tangible power

Pride in excess

Left blind as dear king Oedipus

His rex, the vex of his kingdom

Invaluable measure of pleasure

Delve into luxurious injury

Perjury of delectable sin

Evil always begins

In the minds of the worthy

Reticent descendent

Idyllic matrimony in

Akin cadavers

Horrific, terrific harmony

Death to immortality

Children’s’ grim grin

A fairy take we do spin

Forever, constantly, happily

Chapter 1 – Sugar bowls and flies

3 Jun

Little white lies

Faint replies

Desperate cries

Nine long lives

Fails and tries

Fall or rise

Break all ties

Farewells and goodbyes

Wise women who love spies

Lows and highs

Fatal surprise

Gypsy eyes

Bargain buys

Between her thighs

SDH Pt. 5

19 Dec

Day 8 is a great day! So says, O. who unlike yesterday is fantastically organized, in a happy mood and muy prepared to kick some bi-lingual azz. We even have time to stop for lunch. AND eat it. This is the first time I have ever used the restroom on the job. For being on the computer so much at my “real” job, I am surprisingly energetic. On this third day of actual work running back and forth from the truck—I mean walking at a brisk pace back and forth from the truck—the only thing troubling me is my right pinky toe and the heel of my left foot. I’ve stuffed some cotton in my eight-hole Docs with the original Air Ware heel pull loop and classic trans PVC DMC Air Cushioned outsole and am feeling pretty keen about actually doing work in them after a couple decades of just wearing them for fashion’s sake.

There is hardly any time to talk and it’s loud so O. is definitely not experiencing the full force of my sarcastic wit. Once we’re on the road, it’s all business. We’ve exchanged pleasantries of course. He’s been with the company nine years, straight outta high school, loves it, hates it, has a plan to retire at 50 and move to the beach. Has a gf and a couple baby mamas. Loves his two kids. Is from San Diego, but not that one. It’s a little like flying right seat in an aircraft. You stay quiet and let the pilot focus unless he asks you for help, especially during take-off and landing which in one of these trucks is about every 30 ft. The first day, my worst pain was in my thumb from all the clicking and unclicking but it’s the law and it’s also a safety rule so it is done fastidiously and by everyone without fail.

Tonight marks our first after dark delivery and it’s a little scary. NTR: Well-lit addresses on the sides of mailboxes get high marks from these guys. I’ve learned to appreciate the finer details of a home on approach.  Lighted door bells are underappreciated by the general public. BTW, as a straight path to the front door as can be made is going to happen whether you create one or not.  O. goes easy on me, taking deliveries on his side of the truck whenever there is one; handing me a flashlight and all the packages down the steps so I don’t have to figure out how to maintain three points of contact with my hands full. 248 stops. Not including the last one I made to CVS to pick up the Epsom Salts I longed for during last night’s bath.

It’s a bone-chilling 42 degree sunset after an enjoyably active sunny day. I don’t know if I’m going to make it back tomorrow but O. reminds me cheerfully that on this night we have seen some spectacular Christmas light displays. The once-cold and uninviting windows warm up to a golden glow when the people come home and inhabit their spaces Thomas Kinkaid style. The city lights sparkle and I feel like a princess in my brown polyester uniform presented with cache of precious gems: emeralds, rubies, sapphires and opals in a black velvet lined box. I say so. You know, you can close that door O. says after a noticeable shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. We both slide the heavy floor to ceiling doors with a satisfactory metallic CLATCH after the last stop and enjoy the heat from the engine coming through the vents in the sparse dashboard that includes a fabulously retro push button starter. It’s not the only thing old school on the truck. We silently cruise out of what is most likely the premier planned development in the city taking in the views on the way down. Put it this way: Even I recognize the names and I don’t watch sports.

A gigantic guard-tower looking thing appears between rooftops and hovers over the horizon in such a way that I can only gasp and say, what IS THAT? O. senses it must be something cool since I have been mostly dismissive of the ginormous, over-sized, why the f&*K would two people want to live in a house that big, been there done that castles on a hill to the point that we’re both kind of disgusted by them. I can tell we’re both feeling a tad self-righteous about driving around delivering Santa’s packages by the way his head is perched on the top of his spine. Can we go? I ask, almost pleading? Yeah, let’s check it out. I’ve never been there before. I’m slightly concerned that it’s going to be a house and I’m going to have to own it immediately because it is just my thing—a three-story Spanish mission style guard tower—sigh, home sweet home. Thank god it turns out to be the NDOs (residential group mail boxes). What a joke!

It reminds me of my last apartment—third floor on a mountain preserve overlooking multi-million dollar homes. I pick out the tiny one on the very top that turns out to be the club house. But, I’m in no mood to ponder how the decadence of western civilization will inevitably lead to a water shortage or how the mining companies are buying up rights and will ultimately profit from that too. We are FREE! And the air coming in the windows is crisp and clean and flushes our cheeks like starry-eyed lovers serendipitously thrown together by a dramatic but completely over-comeable life challenge culminating in a financial windfall followed soon after by a major land purchase we vow to be stewards of and immediately begin to dig out passive rain water collection burms, build an earthship, apply for conservation status and invite schools to field trip at our home; educate the children, get a tax write-off and all at once finally feel that this is what it means to be alive.

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