I walk with a limp now,
Two of them in fact,
When I used to glide,
The strut of youth,
Was on my side.

Pain's now the game,
Moving more slowly
My worn knees are done.
The warranty you see,
has fully, finely expired.

Today they took MRI pictures
Of my knees, sized 'em up
For manufacturing,
A perfect, artificial fit.

Metal and plastic components to
replace my played out natural bone.
They assure me it will not hurt,
(Allegedly)  

Surgery they declare will,
eliminate the pain and put
a spring back in my step.

I'll settle for the absence of  
Pain with every step I take.
But, I'm pretty **** sure,
I'll never ever run again.

Even for we humans,
Built in obsolescence,
Is an unavoidable truth.

Man, getting old is really the *****!

I 've been up since 7:00 AM.
The time has flown,
It's raining and somber outside.
A day easy to ignore.
It's nearing now 5:00 PM
I sit here yet in my Bathrobe,
As I have done all day long.
Never did that before.

I apologize to no one,
Not even myself. It was not
Sloth or depression inspired,
It was an overpowering need
For massive doses of Poetry
That caught and held my attention.

Passion or obsession, who is to judge?
And what truly is the difference?

She stood as she always did,
at the sink in the tiny kitchen.
Wearing that apron,
with all the little red Tea Pots,
scattered around on a field
of white cotton.
Tied with a big bow in the back.
Gloved in yellow rubber,
to protect her hands and nails.

I stood a moment in the doorway
and we smiled at one another,
the way Mother's and half grown
children do.

Reflectively she reached up and
brushed back a brownish-blond
lock of hair that had straggled
down too close to her right eye.
A frequent and oft repeated
movement that always made
me smile.

I passed by her and briefly,
touched her shoulder,
As I went.
She patted my hand,
in a simple gesture of
returned implied affection,
Like we always did.

There was the sweet scent
Of Lilac hovering around her.
"Hi Son". She said barely
above a whisper.

My Mother died that next year.
She was only 54.

That was 46 years ago this month.
And yet, I still see her standing there.

I wonder if IKEA will ever get around to
making a knock down Flat Pack version
of the perfect woman?

Just take that box home and carefully
reading all the instructions put that
little Home Maker together.

Comes is several hair shades and hues.
And has no religious or political convictions.

Making sure of course to insert all
her screws, bolts and handles.
Avoiding any "loose screws" at all costs.
No need to compromise your purchase.

I wonder if she will speak English?
Maybe they even have a silent version.

I don't get bigotry, never have.

I don't get born again Christians,
Weren't they born once already?
I don't get do nothing Tea Party Republicans,
Who as it turns out are mostly the same
Born Again people.

I don't get any fake *** politicians,
They aren't people they're a product.
Manufactured and packaged to please
the tastes of the gullible public.

I don't get why super rich people would
want to go to Washington and take
(For them) a low paying job in Congress
and then sit on their hands and do nothing?
With their money they could go buy a lush
Island in the sun and lay about and really
do nothing while drinking a ice cold beer.
Which sounds like lots more fun.  

I don't get bad wars fought for bad reasons.

I don't get people that **** other people
of the same religion for no discernible reason.
While yelling "God Is Good or Great!" or what ever.
I don't get why they'd think "God" would even
appreciate that.

But then, I don't get people that **** people.
Or insanity, religious insanity is even worse.

I don't get still using oil to power things
while we know **** well there are good
viable alternatives.

I don't get the rabid Right To Lifers,
who want to dictate to all woman
their "One And Only Solution".

I guess I don't get why
People tell you they love you,
Then later change their minds.

I don't get kids killing kids
on school yards with guns.
Or the fools that do not lock
up their guns that their kids
find and use to **** other kids
on school yards.

I don't get why so many people
want things to stand still,
just because they can't keep up.

I don't get those folks that swear
that global warming is not a reality,
while every day the oceans rise
a little more.

I don't get why we little people let the
one per centers run our country and lives.

I don't get why we allow Big Business
to out source millions of jobs to other lands
when people here at home are unemployed.

I get "Humanitarian Aid" but why do we send
billions of dollars to countries that hate us?

I don't get why we need a dozen TV channels
of 24 hour news, (Some of which distort the truth
to fit their political leanings) news repeated and
repeated until we are scared and numb and
don't know truth from pure old *******.

I don't get where honest "News Men" like
Mr. Cronkite and his breed, guys that made
sure of their facts and would only dispense
the truth, went and why there are no more
of them?

I don't get why Bush and Cheney are not
in the slammer for their many lies and
outright Treason! Starting wars that never
end and shouting WMDs when none existed.

The simple answer to all this,
"these things that I do not get", is,
"It's all ******* and It's Bad For Ya' ."

When a I was a child I cried,
That's what babies
And children do.
As a man I held it in,
"Big Boys Don't Cry"
So I was told and reminded.
Year after year after year.

Age and life have caught me up.
I've grown more sensitive now.
I look and feel more deeply.
The lessons of age and life,
Are no doubt a factor here.

Now I cry much more often.
For friends and strangers,
Killed in wars.
For loved ones lost and gone.
For things and events in the past,
Where I should have cried before.
Not body shaking sobs,
Just gentle flowing tears.

I cry now watching sad movies,
Even reading a well turned verse.
I cry at the ebbing moments,
Of a unusually beautiful sunset.
Or merely observing,
My Grandchildren,
As they encounter and embrace life.

I shed tears for strangers,
Who suffer or bleed.
I've come to understand,
It's my humanity,
Showing through.

Big boys don't cry,
You say?
Friend, that's just not true.
We do and we should.
With no apologies,
Intended or rendered.
'Cause, that's just how it is.

It's raining buckets,
Pounding on my roof,
Music to my ears.
The drought is busted,
All ready the green returns.
Drink you Earth of mine
Today you are renewed.