Tag: Poem

Get In, Then Fit In

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Real chip off the old block. (Get in, then fit in)
Freeze: this is a stick up. (Get in, then fit in)
Welcome back to the nuthouse. (Get in, then fit in)
Grab a uniform and a dose of doubt. (Get in, then fit in)

Twice over to the third degree.
Go forth, plead the fifth if it pleases.
Conceal & carry couple selves around.
Medicate, medicate, and make friends with Jesus.
Oh yeah and did I mention?:
Get in, then fit in.

Why make up your mind when we can make it for you? (Get in, then fit in)
It’s a mighty fine service: do as we say we do. (Get in, then fit in)
Follow closely, take your foot off the brake. (Get in, then fit in)
This is how it’s done, just watch the tape. (Get in, then fit in)

Twice over to the third degree.
Go forth, plead the fifth if it pleases.
Conceal & carry couple selves around.
Medicate, medicate, and make friends with Jesus.
Oh yeah and did I mention?:
Get in, then fit in.

Naturally unnatural habitat.
That’s that. Adapt.

Bad luck? Chin up.
Then get in, then fit in.
First get in, then fit in.

(12/4/2018 & 2/11/2019: Irish Acres, Mount Horeb, Wisconsin)

The Small Print

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This is for your own good,
no bones about it.
Ready your solar plexus,
here comes the hit:

Should’ve read the small print.

Validation:
quick-acting.
Gratification:
short-lasting.
How did it come to this?

Should’ve read the small print.

Foresight unseen,
mind-over-money’s spent
hand over fist.
We’re prisoners of the moment
who should’ve read the small print.

Whole kit and kaboodle,
well-documented.
Recall, recollect
the signs and the omens.
Somehow smiling nonetheless
because as I said:
We’re prisoners of the moment,
prisoners of the moments.
Should’ve read the small print,
prisoners of the many moments.

Prisoners of the many moments.

(2/13/2019: Irish Acres, Mount Horeb, Wisconsin)

That’s Saying Something

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Another narrow escape.
It was close this time.
Near self-destruction.
Hit the override.

Peerless, peerless,
that’s no positive thing
in this case:
Break in emergency.

That’s saying something
though I can’t say what.
That’s saying something
not yet out of luck.

The former, the latter,
the prior, the past.
Point is:
I’m looking back.

Show me the door,
show me the door
I’ll walk through it.
The pleasure’s yours.

That’s saying something
though I can’t say what.
That’s saying something
not yet out of luck.

Life of a buccaneer
appeals to me;
start as an intern,
raise the jolly roger.

Skulls & crossbones.
Red eye, red eye.
Done a double take,
Look closely: I’m alive.

That’s saying something
though I can’t say what.
That’s saying something
not yet out of luck.

Not just yet.
Not just yet.

(12/21/2018 & 2/9/2019: Marcine’s, Mount Vernon & Oakcrest Tavern, Madison, Wisconsin)

Get Used To It

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Well, well, well-come
to another non-fictional
American morning, 2018.
Ready, fire, aim…
Get used to it.

Loose cannons, loose lips.
Ladies & gentlemen:
Get used to it.

“I can see it very well…
Take my word
he’s a madman
don’t you know?”

It’s all part of the plan,
I swear.
Get used to it.
We’ll take it from here.

Keep your TV on
with the sound off.
Get used to it.

Who’s a role model anyhow?
My way or none at all.
Keep ’em guessing, yeah we’ll throw ’em off.
Maybe we’ll think about it over a round of golf.

Stay seated
where you are.
We’ll keep you entertained
another hour.
Your role in this is critical.
Another day,
another curtain call.
Get used to it.

(3/11/2019 – Adams Point, Oakland, California)

By and By

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At the old Coliseum on Friday, twilight –
section 305 all to my self, down-the-line.

Of course I brought a radio & ear piece along:
Baseball is best enjoyed on AM/FM waves, described by stoic & seasoned grandfathers
through occasional static and meditative pauses for the crowd’s live idle speculation.
Seagulls sail on a string above home
through the cool, broad Bay breeze
on a sweeping crisp eve out here in the East.

Did I mention we’re playing the Baltimore Orioles?

There’s a casual drums, bells & whistles corps
driving & chiming in green & gold,
accenting the eloquent, aimless events
on the diamond.

Jimenez’s got 10 strikeouts through 4,
but, “Yeah, baby!” (Austin Powers’ voice on PA)
as the A’s Rajai Davis steals second base.

Time and a couple of innings go by,
I grab a salty dog and a fry.

It’s appears to still be four runs to three.
We’re bunting’s my impressional gist, generally –
but back goes the mind to the slow waking dreams.

Once again and still the only one
in my outfield-upper deck-nosebleed section
where the shells of the peanuts are sparse but the stalest,
and a ground rule double ties it up for the home team.

I stayed, for a time,
in those far away seats
on that still August night,
by and by and by and by,
swinging in the moonlight,
by and by.

I believe we won 5-4.

(8/11/2017 – Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum, East Oakland, California)