My poem, What I Had Forgotten,” was up on The Drabble today. Here is the poem:
Spring came on reluctantly this year—
like the probing of a diffident lover,
uncertain of welcome.
It gave me time to remember
how much the heat of the new sun
felt like a caress
and how the breeze from the south
made me feel like shedding layers—
clothing and skin,
and running wild-hearted
through the first green.
And here is the link:
http://thedrabble.wordpress.com/
wonderful anne frank quote
kinders are home again at the castle
after a long day spent challenging dragons.
—
“in the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.”
-anne frank
Stevieslaw: Trump unveils new approach to Mexican Border control
President Trump tweeted this morning that he had come to an historic accord with Russian leader Vladimir Putin. In exchange for a halt in all U.S. sanctions, the Russian military will assume control of the Mexican-U.S. border.
“No more namby-pamby ICE agents,” tweeted an elated President. “These guys would just as soon shoot you as look at you—and, the troops chosen will speak neither English or Spanish.”
“Try talking your way in now, El Bandito,” Trump tweeted with a smiley face.
New in Issue 7 of Nixes Mate http://nixesmate.pub/issue-7-spring-2018/Review
Breakdown
On that endless day in February –
when I found out
you wouldn’t be coming home,
I hitched a ride to Lewistown
in a car so beat up
it might have been lifted
from a junkyard on Route 220.
The delinquents that drove it
were thoroughly stoned
and moved in fractal time –
abruptly, like mechanical dolls
wound for infinity.
We took the grade
down Seven Mountains sideways
laughing at fuck knows what.
They tossed me out
at the train station
just over the river –
a place so desolate and cold
the vegetation that grew there
could not be found
anywhere else on earth
I sat on the icy asphalt
and cradled my backpack,
as if the contents –
some ludes and librium,
two nickel bags,
rolled sweat socks,
and a stuffed dog named Lucky,
could save me from the setting of the sun.
The train rolled through the heartland
of tarpaper shacks
and graveyards
lit by a macabre moon
made orange by train windows
crazed by the cold.
Outside, packs of hounds
hunted and howled,
prey and people fled
and at the service plazas –
little Meccas of civilization
in the wind blown wild –
the wretched of the earth
sobbed in the artificial light.
In Harrisburg,
a G.I., in full battle gear,
sat down beside me,
stinking of blood and jungle,
his right leg lopped off
just above the knee,
the bone whiter than fresh snow.
A chest wound
the size of Ali’s fist
bled on the seat.
What was left of his name tag
read PFC Deuts.
He smoked weed and told stories
of little towns in the Mekong
he had blown away,
in a voice as green and sweet
as honeyed tea.
In Philly, he shot out a window
and left the train
through the gaping wound.
My brother met me at Penn Station.
Sturdy and sure,
he was dressed as a Hassid –
payot graying around his ears.
He knelt on the grimy station floor
and davened
to the beat of a hit song
as ugly as 1968.
With prayers as mechanical
as the patter of
a ventriloquist’s dummy,
he sold peyote
and cheap copies of the New Testament
to travelers
desperate to get high.
Stevieslaw: Who is Next?
I’ll bet you are not convinced, even with Bolton as National Security Advisor and Mike Pompeo at State, that we’ve hit rock bottom on Trump picks. None of us are. In fact, the question on everyone’s mind is: How can Trump find even worse choices when he decides, as he will, to fire the latest bunch? We suggest that Trump go back to the old neighborhood—in his case, Queens.
If we go back to our old stomping ground—Brownsville, Brooklyn, we could easily replace the war-mongers and airheads currently serving in cabinet and high staff positions, with even war-ier and air-head-ier folks. Consider your childhood gang—you probably can compile a list as well.
For Treasury Secretary—Bennie the Book, who kept the craps games going in Brooklyn and Saigon. How refreshing to have a Treasury Secretary who served time for something other than a banking-stock swindle.
For Secretary of State—Mike the mouth, who was voted three years running the most likely to be carried off the playground in a stretcher. Mike, the chicken hearted, had the knack of teasing the craziest dude on the playground into flattening him. Rumor has it, that on a class trip to Tibet, The Dalai Lama grew so frustrated with his chatter he broke a statue of Buddha over his head.
For Housing and Urban Development—Teddy the torch, who at last count burned down 43 tenements in Brownsville. At 16! Ted loved his work in “insurance” and had fine connections among New York’s real estate developers.
Health and Human Services—Nurse Sheila, who could get it for you, and at a good price. She will bring the cost of medicine down in the nation, although you might have to get your prescription filled at a quiet street corner in the dead of night, rather than at a pharmacy.
Education—My cousin Barbara, who at 37 is still trying to pass 8th grade. She, like Devos, has strong fact-based opinions on everything educational. An early Trump supporter, she values him for his integrity.
And for Defense—Short fuse Phil, a seemingly mild-mannered stickball star, who would explode every now and then to do very, very evil stuff. Totally unpredictable, Phil would blow up for no apparent reason. Sure to be a hit on the International Scene.
Share your list.
Stevieslaw: Fox News Defends Coverage
Fox News said its decision to cover President Trump’s golf game at his Mar-a-lago Club, on Saturday, rather than the student led marches around the country was right on target. Trump’s game—the 101st of his presidency, was historic.
“He had a chance at a 73, for only the third time in his golfing career, if only he had managed that 17 footer on 18,” said Sean Hannity. The putt was uphill with only a slight drift to the right at the end.”
“He got bad advice from his caddy,” continued the Fox News Celebrity. “Of course,” said a smiling Sean, “Trump fired him on the spot.”
“Ten years from now,” concluded Hannity, “People will still be streaming this Trump golf game, while The March for whatever will be long forgotten.”
https://literaryheist.us14.list-manage.com/track/click?u=553951901df2316581609a35f&id=e2865ea181&e=3dba6361d6Do Not Go Gentle just appeared in the Spring 2018 issue of Literary Heist. The link is above. Here is the poem:
Do not go gentle
My brother believed
it was the constancy
of the ordinary
that drove the masses
to Valium and Freud.
The tiresome ritual
that compelled some soul
to wash and dry the dishes
each night at 7:05–
just after the drumming
of the nightly news
had turned
his brain
to plum pudding.
Two children
to scrub and bed–
A barely significant
snoring on the chaise
and dreaming
of doing evil.
He wanted
none of it—
the ritualistic
suicide
by everyday life.
He did
not “push the boundaries”—
that tired mantra
that would have you strive
for ordinary plus.
He raged
and courted
disaster
as some might court
Sweet Sue–
With someone else’s money
Someone else’s drugs
Someone else’s women.
What a splendid mess
he made of life.
And yet,
he died
such an ordinary death.
Cancer
Chemo
Morphine
Ashes.
I read
“Do not go gentle”
at his wake.
An obvious choice—
so heartily approved
by the attending
audience
I like to imagine
it made him
roar
with laughter.
Stevieslaw: New Feature—Ask Smokey Diamond
Dear Smokey,
I am an 88 year old retired firefighter with emphysema and two bad knees. I live in on the sixth floor of a rent-controlled apartment in Queens. Jared Kushner’s Corporation has just bought the apartment building and I am hearing alarming rumors*. My pension doesn’t go very far any more, so if I am forced to move from this apartment, I will have to move in without my crazy cousin Thelma who hasn’t cleaned her place in Canarsie in more than a decade. Oh, she has 35 cats.
Move?
Sincerely, Puffy.
Dear Puffy,
Yes.
If you stay, there will be some changes. Living rent-controlled in a Kushner Corp building has been likened to living in a suburb of Damascus after the Russians have finished with it. You might expect that the elevator will stop working and the stairway to the sixth floor will be missing several steps. Power and water outages will be frequent or continuous.
Construction on the lucrative apartments will begin immediately. Generally, construction hours will be from 1:30 AM until 8 AM. Noise will compete with the fumes for your attention. During the non-construction hours, Kushner will load and unload huge trucks—not necessarily associated with the construction, right under your window—the one someone keeps breaking with a brick. For some reason, rats seem to thrive during Kushner constructions, so you might want to borrow a cat or two from Thelma.
You might think all of this is illegal, and you would be right. Kushner Corp has the unique reputation of never having filed a single document that was truthful. You can of course complain to the Housing Authority. Budget cuts have reduced the staff to someone named Harry, who is as old as you are and has a case backload of 17 years. Filing a false permit document is punishable by a fine of up to $50.
Acme Movers, Inc up on Steinway Street has a fine reputation. Move quickly while you still can. Kushner Corp’s connection to the Russian mob has never been proven—but then, who would want to try. I hope you are not too allergic to cats.
Sincerely,
Smokey
• See the article in the CDT (3/19/18) by Bernard Condon of the Associated Press.
Stevieslaw: Buyer’s Remorse
The consumer watchdog group, “It has Gotta Go,” reported today that a careful examination of Donald Trump’s balding head as he boards Air Force One shows the stamp “discard after 03/12/18. They argue that he has expired and, if he has not already started to smell, he will soon.
John Mackey, CEO of Whole Foods, said when questioned on the issue, “This is simple, throw him out.”
While partisan groups like Fox News argue that the president might be preserved in the White House deep freeze, all agree that decomposing and reeking President would send a terrible message to the country and to the world.
Rachel Maddow, of MSNBC, said simply “Landfill,” while cooler heads have suggested his image might be preserved in a lone panel on the U.S.-Mexican border with his hand up in the Universal Symbol of Halt!
Congress is meeting in special session today to decide what to do. “This is unprecedented,”said Speaker Paul Ryan, “But the prevailing is wind from the White House to the Capitol, so we will certainly move quickly on this.”
Stevieslaw: March Happiness.
Here is Central Pennsylvania, just after the start of Daylight Savings Time, we can count on 12 hours of night and 12 hours of gloom. The temperature profile for the next few weeks is simple—high of 28, low of 19. We can also count on flurries—not snow exactly—just a few particles of snow made fierce by the biting wind. And no, the roads here are no better than they were last year. After the usual winter damage of our already poor roads, driving is like a Mogul Skiing event. On a good day, you do not shake off any critical parts of your car. So we link happiness to small things—fifteen minutes of actual sunlight, an early songbird’s hopeful song, and today, for me, Conor Lamb’s win over Republican Rick Saccone in a Western Pennsylvania District so gerrymandered that Democrats didn’t even contest the House Seat in several recent elections.
The Republicans threw everything they had at this election, including a 90 minute appearance by Agent Orange in his role as nutjob in chief. Rumor has it that other House Republicans are writing to the White House to say, “No need for Trump to visit my district—I have this.”
So on this March 14th, with the temperature hovering at just below freezing, snow flakes peppering the sky, the sun in hiding, and the songbirds huddling under rocks, I can still be happy. It feels like spring is on the way.
Stevie's Law 