After Pascal

Though reason and I are well acquainted,
I sometimes see through an different prism,

In the heart of hearts dwell truths untainted
by enthymeme or syllogism
--GL

'One Letter Too Many'

(to Ms. J.)


If I were your
armor

I'd feel fine.

You're already mine.

Shaped to your shape,
my spaces

-all the old familiar
places-

You won't have to dress
in camo,

and if you need some,
I've got ammo:

te amo, te amo

-GL

The Secret Lives of Clams




“Oh, I am happy as a clam”,
was what my nice niece said,
It set my mind to musing, till
I see clam clans in beds.

'Clams are shy and taciturn,
don’t jump for joy', I thought,
-and 'do they ever clamor?'
nought!


even in Spring, when clam boy sings his salty song of love
and he is clam-romantic in his sandy, briney bed,
his nature is so different from human males above,
that yearning girl clams hear his song, and willingly are led,
( his gentle clam passion will not turn her red)


as he draws in and then expells
his nutritive sea waters
he sings of handsome clam sons,
and adorable clam daughters,
(propinquity is vital as he bubbles forth his song,
clams don’t get around as much as young folks do above)


Yes, somehow he communicates
-clam girl hears him like a bell,
and she discerns the vision
pulsing from inside his shell,
The gurgling pulses tell her
of a peaceable clam life
if she will just consent to be
his loving clammy wife.


unlike our human lives, so stressful and so frantic
some creatures live contented, beneath a green Atlantic.

A clam walked into a bar in New York City...

Clem clam chose the bar in the cellar
(apropos don't you think, for a bottom-dweller?)

"How would you like some nice wet sand?"
said the basement barman, "We'll give you a hand,

you can slip under it, and still hear the band,
We do our best for such handsome clams!

and we know all about your preferences here,
so no bar gull will pester to buy her a beer,

but sultry mollusks will prance on our stage
and they'll make you feel that you're half of your age

and later, dear clam, when you're feeling real fine
we'll prepare you the finest steam bath in white wine

with our VIP treatment, by the end of the night
you'll relax, and 'open up' -no longer uptight!"

these words meant to sooth, had a different effect
our clam felt a tingle the whole length of his neck

He suddenly experienced a strong urge to run
he forgot about mollusks, and booze and fun,

of course he couldn't put a finger on 'it'
but a now -intense fear filled his stomach pit...

[sorry folks to interrupt your fun, but this, alas, concludes chapter one]

Rumination on the Occasion of My Sixty-Ninth Birthday

As 'That Day' approaches:

I don't acknowledge birthdays any more,
but sometimes when my DOB arrives
I raise a glass -or maybe four or five-
(after I've determined that I'm STILL alive!)

knowing that before too long I'll 'pass'
this old dude doesn't covet gifts or pelf,
instead, I simply hoist my foamy glass,
and wish a happy 'burpday' to my own darn self!
-GL

Last Word

‘Saturday, May 21, 2011, 5:50 PM’

Drat! 
No new tat!


My tattoo artist cancelled today's session!


Damn! I don't mind losing my worldly possessions,

but I craved more ink today - my one obsession-

(okay, MORE than one, but this ain't no general confession!)

You see, I had hoped that
today, 
when the whole world goes, "Splat!"
I'd go out in style, sporting

a fancy, brand new tat!
But the #%!#&! cancelled app

has ruined all of that!

Well, just ten minutes more is all 

that me and this old world has got,
So, maybe I should meditate for ten

at least, on some sort of holy thought,

(while those smirking rapturees

imagine me in someplace hot!)

but I KEEP THINKING of
that blasted tat 
that I ain't got!!


OK, only seconds left now,
guess I'll just accept my fate,

knowing that this whole darn world is ending...


not.

-Jorge999

'Andrew'

If you weren’t litter-perfect you were close,
that day we had ‘first pick’ of all your daddy’s pups,
chubby, white and black with one white eye,
you could have been a panda cub;

an endearing, curious dog you were,
making eye contact with our human gaze,
not to dominate or challenge,
just gentle-friendly,

How could we not choose you?

Andrew, you endured indignities of baths and haircuts
and never made a whine or whimper,
but your happy self was always quick to sooth
our distress, and bad temper,

my buddy, my friend, I bring you now to Jo-Ann,
carry you to the cemetery with the
indian name --’Quidnessett’,
your quiddity now in convenient granulated form
(like some god-angering, Greek dog, transmuted into sand)
will slip easily into this hole I dig;

I think: 'will these granules, when rains
seep in and make your house all muddy,
will they stick to one another, and swell,
until you push a dirty paw up through the ground
and you come back to me from your dog heaven

or dog hell?'

'A Drink Called a Bearded Clam' (adult content)

1.
Deterred, at first, by a clam with a 'beard',
I gradually changed my mind
after I had been thoroughly beered
and had drunk three glasses of wine!

but it wasn't the first hair I'd tasted
(the whole story at another time!)
Dos Equis had gotten me wasted
then too, and hair-and-all, it was fine!

2.
Her business clothes seemed out of place
though they were of an elegant kind,
and I savor the memory of her good taste
-I'm sure it was better than mine,

with this ditty, I'm skirting ex-rated
-perhaps now I've crossed the line-
but her suit as she lay on the bed
was the furthest thing from my mind.

'Socrates Said To: "Know Thyself"

hmmm..."..a conceited little *poetaster..."

it could be that it fits! :-/

and, it makes my heart beat faster...

I don't like it, but

in truth it's


no disaster.

-GL



* May 10, 2011 A.Word.A.Day with Anu Garg

poetaster

PRONUNCIATION:
(POH-it-as-tuhr)
MEANING:
noun: An inferior poet.

ETYMOLOGY:
From Latin poetaster, from Latin poeta (poet), from Greek poietes (poet, maker), from poiein (to make) + -aster (pejorative suffix). Earliest documented use: 1601.

NOTES:
What can you do when someone calls you a poetaster? Why, you can call them a criticaster (an inferior critic). Also see mathematicaster, philosophaster, and politicaster.

USAGE:
"In the title story, a poetaster suffering from 'chronic acuteness' is rushed to the hospital before his verse does much harm."
Anthony Bukoski; Average Joes Wind Up in 'Hospital'; Star-Tribune (Minneapolis, Minnesota); May 3, 2009.

"You have revealed yourself to the world as a conceited little poetaster."
Simon Barnes; Rooney No Longer in Control of Fame Game; The Times (London, UK); Sep 13, 2010.

‘The World is Spinning Faster’

It used to be
that folks could wait
till their third date.

but nowadays,
love, they start the fun
on day ONE!

So dear, by second date
we're ALREADY late
if we don't...you know...
'fecundate'
-G.L.