A 70th Birthday Poem

My mother had a series of rules
     by which we lived
And by which I think I still do

For instance,
     to keep my brothers and I from fighting
         fighting to cause star-shaped pain,
two-dimensional and primary colored, like on Batman
         fighting to cause welts from
rising like tectonic plates heralding the end of Pangaea
         fighting to bring forth blood
     red blood
      red blood
       burgundy and green and iridescent blood
she said,
         “As long as you’re laughing when you hit them,
it doesn’t count,”
     and it became true
     as the forced, adrenaline-driven guffaws
           tumbled up and over one another
            like rocks shattering one another
              into pebbles exfoliating one another
                into sand
     white and soft and meandering
seaside to tomorrow and forever.
         Know what I mean?

My mother had a series of rules
     by which we lived
And by which I think I still do

For instance,
     to keep from clashing
in a fashionable/unfashionable dissonance,
it’s important to remember:
     “Just because two things are red,
doesn’t mean they’re the same,”
or blue or white or black
     that when held together like paint swatches
each holds a different value,
         and the painter tries to make the best choice
because a purple shirt can be pretty,
     but . . .
“Nobody wants to live in a purple house.”  
         Right?

My mother had a series of rules
     by which we lived
And by which I think I still do

For instance,
     housecleaning should be done to a polka,
or not at all
         joyfully or begrudgingly
as best suits the cleaner
         and the polka,
     because . . .
“Doesn’t a little accordian make everything better?”
         Well, doesn’t it?

My mother had a series of rules
     by which we lived
And by which I think I still do

For instance,
     today is the 31st anniversary
         of her 39th birthday
     just as it will soon be
            the 15th anniversary
         of my 29th birthday

Of *course, it is.

1 Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
2 Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
3 Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
4 Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way!

5 Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
6 List while I woo thee with soft melody;
7 Gone are the cares of life's busy throng, --
8 Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
9 Beautiful dreamer awake unto me!

10 Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
11 Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
12 Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
13 Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

14 Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
15 E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
16 Then will all clouds of sorrow depart, --
17 Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
18 Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

that day will come. . .
in the later years of our lives
when we can finally realize that the best
has just begun and you begin to see things
so much better as you can pick and choose
what and who you want to hold to be dear
and what and who you want to lose
because life has become
much more clear.

that day will come. . .
when you are able to realize
that we are no longer young
as you start to come undone finding
that you can no longer move as fast
and just aren't able to last
as long as you would like to
while doing things that you love
as life becomes push and shove.

that day will come. . .
when shadows fall deep inside
turning a page in time
as you just can't seem to find
that eternal rhyme but you can discover
the real reasons that you hold life
to be so dear discovering
who is really real and who
was just trying to steal.

that day will come. . .
when you begin to realize that everything
and everyday gets harder
and you begin to wonder if what
you have done while on this earth
has really been of any worth.

that day will come. . .
when you begin to realize
that your time here is getting short
as you seem to be running out of time
upon discovering that you are no longer
in your prime and realizing
that it did not stay very long
as you look up and
it is gone.

that day will come. . .
when you discover that
you can't continue your masquerade
nor can you keep lying to yourself
as you discover that there is
little time to spare as you learn
what love really is and that
you really do need to care.

that day will come. . .
when you discover that the darkness
has just begun and there is really
nowhere to run or hide anymore
so you just go through that door
in hopes of finding some more light
and hoping that there is still a lot more
love left in your life and finally
you will get it right.

that day will come. . .
even at your extended age
when a final true love can turn the page
saying "I love you" and meaning it
allowing your soul to live
feeling that inner strength and power
as you can finally believe that
love can be and you are
finally able to see.

that day will come. . .
when you take that chance
for one more dance while trying
to understand why there has to be
darkness before there is light
as you begin to discover that it is
finally your turn so you take
your best shot giving love
everything you have got.

that day will come. . .
when you know that you
have won the race and can say
to all of those doubters
"in your face."   

that day will come. . .                            Jon York        2013

I haven't thought about the fellow water waves
Flowing on a distant land in every step
The white foam, the blue face
Wipes away the sin of every ship
The pirates resting on wooden planks
Drinking *** and fish
Neither do they think of rusty slaves
Wearing torn and ***** rags
An also wearing sweat with every work
That they do not do on their wish
'land ahoy'! is all they say
And do not scold themselves for mistake
Yet keeps and eye on every slave.....
Even if they drop and apple
Or rumble a word in the food table
The pirates hold them for slay
And on and on sparkling knives
Cuts through rough skin
Being blood in disguise
Flows from wooden planks to the sea.....
And yet the sun has been a sign of hope
For, every traveller had to cope
To meet the land of treasures
Sun defines brightest light
Every happy kid flies a kite
And smile shows instead of fight
It has been known forever
Yet why is it that during sunrise and sunset
I see darkness brushing the trees
For injustice meet meets happiness
Where death meets hope in horizon
Is only when the sun meets the sea

Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage, lover!
Could you endure such pain
At any hand but hers?

Drink another beer darling,
drink another beer.

It's the only time I get any sort of real emotion out of you.
So grab another.

What's worse? The fact that you only show affection to me when you are 7 in,
or that I put up with this incoherent love affair?

daliance. daliance.

Can a year still mean nothing?

Tonight,
I've decided that it can.