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Bo Tansky Sep 2018
When you’re gone
How do I know?  
I don't know  
But I do

When you are gone
I put on my sailor suit
Blood red, ghostly white, but mostly blue
Crawl into my crammed craft  
A waterbed of not smooth sailing, but I  
Implacable in a turbulent feeling sea
Unstoppable, scanning, searching
Bobbing and buoyant with the surf
Dodging everything in a cumbersome path
Until you are found

When you are gone
Other boats sail by
What is she looking for?
Do not try to rescue me, other-
I am not lost, except lost to you.

My ocean, my seafaring friend
Curious current, unstoppable is
carrying me
holding me kindly
in its unfathomable depth
Until you are found.

2.
Like a dog knows
When It’s owner is coming home
Home is all they know.
When the place where you are
is not home,
I become rabid,
Like a mad dog.
Anxious
Alarmed
Scared
Angry
Hurt
Weepy

When you are gone-
I am gone too- pieces of
Not knowing, yet knowing
I am one with the needy sea
Seeking into seaweed ravaged ravines.
Old stuck and sacred scars
Hastening my tale of woe and foe
Circling my desperation for you
entrenched in my sailor’s saga
Dry kicking feral fish jumping
Drinking thirsty spiraling
fastened to a chain-linked fence
in the middle of an empty and wise ocean
Until you are found

Dog tired and out of options
Exhausted and retched
There is only one place

In a dug-out of my own making
I open my eyes
What I see
Ambiguity
And I can't be there
I'm trying to be there
I can’t be there
I’m trying to be there
I can’t be there
I’m trying to be there
He's angry
She's angry
You're angry
I'm angry, then
sad and hurt
Who thought up this twisted plot
Some call it life
There are better plots
Are there not?

Mostly right now
I’m happy
Happier than ever  
But, temporal like an old wave
Sensing the shore
Sensing its own demise:
just a look
Or a look away is
A wave is a goodbye.
swallowed in the arms of mother-father
You’re gone
But, I'm happy right now
Why should my happiness depend on you?

I know it's not like that for you
Really, I don’t know anything
And it’s driving me crazy
A part of the ‘what plot’ I wrote
Conspiracies make me crazy
Not knowing makes me crazy
You are making me crazy
Yes, you
No, not me
It’s all your fault
Yes, you

Ambiguity is not a kind bedfellow
Did I say not kind
What I meant was; ambiguity is a piece of..
The puzzle, what did you think I was going to say.
I'm trying
Please forgive me
My meanness,
my neediness,
my clinging
my darling
  
the very best part of you
no meanness
None at all
You get choked up on hurt
And try sometimes
but really you can’t
the words come out all jumbled
as you try to defend, to no end
because you understand
It’s not you.
Don't think I'm putting you on a pedestal because I'm not
You could fall from a pedestal and get hurt
I'm a realist
Before all
Then a dreamer
Mostly a dreamer
If I’m being honest

3.
This I know
The essence of what you are
And the essence of what you are not
Not the particulars
Those like lost pieces of you
Are they
Lost for a reason?
Or forever.
I choked on the word
I don’t understand my need to tell you everything
As if my life depended on it
As if your life depended on it
I’m not competing
Believe me
This is as much me as it is you
I just don’t understand this cruel twist of fate

I want to think I wasn’t the author of this sad story
Where there are no good or bad characters,
no good or bad plots
Endless words of explanation
For all I know
It begins and ends here now
Maybe I really am just crazy

Just a word from you is all I ask
So I can sleep

4.
I’ll show this to you when the time is right
forget about everything for tonight
If my poem is out of tune
Out of words
Out of rhyme
I’ll write another
And another
And another
Until the ferocity is gone
And I can be peaceful.
This is my wish for you, too.
Why do I get this way when you’re gone?
Bo Tansky Sep 2018
To Choose or Not to Choose. is it a Choice?
For the love of o!

I learned not to choose when I realized the choice had already been made.
What do I mean by that and why am I telling you this?
I say choose to choose
with 2 os because choose with 2 os is not- choice with one.
Oh, no. (Both with one o) And I love os.
Now anybody who's anybody knows that os come in two varieties.
Single os and double os.
And then there are cheerios and xs and os.
Oh, and how, (both with one o), those were the days when things were simple.
An x was just an x and an o was just an o.
Now we have so many choices.
Do you see what I mean?
Kind of like the days when women were women and men were men.
And kids didn’t get to choose. (with two os.)
Yuk, we were so limited back then.
Do you remember the not so good old days?
Everyone knew who they were and they sure as hell knew- they weren’t you.
No choice back then; when men were men, women were women, kids didn’t get to choose and that was the end.
Duality was trending back then.
Now there are so many choices.
Like how many ways can you answer the question?
To choose or not to choose.
Well, any question really.  
It’s not that simple anymore.  
You do know, yes you do, know what I’m talking about.
Let’s get this straight, I’m quite alright, even endorse the choices, as long as we separate the single os from the double os.
That’s what really drives me crazy.
What about 007.
Why did he need to be double o.
Was there ever a single o that came before the double o.
Did he choose to choose with two os or was there a single o predecessor?
Can’t say.  These are questions everyone should ask..
Instead, they choose contrived, manipulated, untrue, fake, phony, falsified, bogus, doctored and utterly ridiculous theater and never concern themselves with the bigger issues in life. yuk
And it is, for this reason, the I take up the challenge and try to answer the more serious, fundamental, visceral, honest, ultimately and timely questions. huh.
Is choosing a choice?
Without hesitation I declare.
Of course, it is not.
Anyone can see that choosing has two os and choice only has one.
Now, some may find this explanation to be quite o literal, but I can assure you it is not.
At the risk of repeating myself.
A simple glance will let you know that choice is not in the choosing for it was- choice it would have two os and it does not.  
Not that there should be a preference of os over say xs.
Yet I really like the way it sounds. Xs and os, xs and os.
Cheerios. Happy os. Videos. Delirious. Serious. Not really os- but
That’s the way it rolls in my prose.
Corny, I know.  
A rose is never a rose in my prose.
It’s all about the xs and os.  
But, one shouldn’t get hung-up on os and neglect the xs.
Oh no.
Hey, what about the x ***?
What ***?
I thought there were only 2 sexes.
That was then, remember, and this is now.
Wow, I didn’t know you didn’t know.
Well, x ***.
Has a nice sound.
And since we're all moving in that direction anyway, seems the x *** just got there a little sooner.
So they just got tired of choosing (with 2 os) and when whoever does the asking, asked, ‘so what *** do you want to be in your next incarnation?’
After realizing the party was over they just shrugged.
I don’t know man. I haven’t had much success with either.
Oh (with one o) that’s too (with 2 os) bad.
Why don’t we put you down as an x.
Ok, I guess, if that’s what you suggest.
I’ll agree to an x for my next ***.
But, wait. What the **** that is an x?
An x explained, whoever the **** does the explaining, is a human that shares both sexes.
So, what do you say? Is it a go, (with one o), or is it a nay?
So, if you ask me, there really isn’t any choice at all because it’s already been chosen.
Who did the choosing? Who knows. (both with one o)
Me, I think it was 007 because he has two os and I love os and the hell with my xs.
The subject is so xhausting if you get my gist.
I’ll leave the rest for tomorrow. A wonderful word with three os. A subject yet to be discussed.
So now, I have to go and so I leave you with mucho xs and os.
** ** **.
If you don’t mind me saying so. (with one o)



.
Bo Tansky Sep 2018
From this dugout
No use pouring my heart out.
This confessional doesn’t have a shade drawn
A puppet, a pawn, a perp
A tack on
Littered with detritus
Of somebody done somebody wrong song
I don’t steal anybody’s song,
Wrong
It’s not my commandment
It’s not written in granite
Ambiguities a bad bedfellow
But not a dead fellow
This confessional, this confessional
Doesn’t absolve you with a few hail marys
a thicket of wicked thorn berries.
sick, *******, costumed pretenders-
holy, roly-poly, sanctimonious vendors.
Doesn’t cleanse you at the hip altar.
But of-
the unpure, uneaten, unsure
excommunicated alter,
of the endure
Defaulter, sweet & sour, flower power altar.
Where you shall genuflect to the vanquished
To the-
Soiled, stained, sick, smelly, unkempt and managed
Gross, bone bent, back aching, decried and decrypted.
Imperfect professors of perfection
Who are perfectly right
But don’t know it
And quit

You, sanctimonious vendor of the unpure.
How can you be so sure?

Mary scared mother of-
Stripped of her merriment
Fairy dust
wanderlust
Mary, Venerated Jewish Mother  
Annunciation proclamation
Consummation Abnegation
Hastened your ascension
Toward prop ligation
Fleshly excommunication castration
You shall labor without love
Impregnated with carnal canned pixie dust
On the backs of *****-tonk donkeys
Star-stalking, strange, bearded traveling imposters
Posted on paper indelible,
Forever
They reign.
Please


Mary’s, you have given birth many times,
Not with the ***** of men, but nonetheless.
Birthing their winged  & ribbed women
Angels
Amen.
With the same pixie dust.
Some have called them crazy,
lazy
hazy,
spacey,
****
zany,
brainy
And worse
Some better

You have not called them at all,
Mother of the child-
Child of the mother.
Mother, why did you drop me on my head,
And then leave me for dead?
An abandoned cavern that couldn’t fill the holy womb.
They wouldn’t let me go near you.
Elastic roped and doped and spun
Someone finally won.
It wasn’t you,
Mother.
Child
You were the prize child
Denial child
Anything but wild child
Do no wrong child
Slightly soiled spoiled child
A benediction of denial child.
Precious child
Equalized on such a lofty Persian perch?
Where we have put you
And left you.

You will pay dearly for this, child.
What do you have to say for yourself?
You must plead guilty.
Because if you are not-
The consequences will be severe.
So, how do you plead?
Once in awhile child.
How do you plead?
Once in a denial child.
How do you plead?
I have written on paper pure indeed
How do you plead?
Now I need to burn the paper
How do you plead?
Ashes to ashes
How do you plead?
Mad dashes
Past to present
Has past.
How do you plead?
Now
Backlashes, dashes, and eyelashes
How do you plead?
I’m down on my knees
Trying to please
How do you plead?

Freeze and frozen
A snow-white fairy in a
Snow white fairytale
In a snow-white snow storm.
How do you plead?
Dashes to dashes to dashes
Is this the end-
Ashes to ashes to ashes
Or just another altar
My friend.
How do you plead?
Bo Tansky Sep 2018
Instant messages from the multiverse
Rhyming verses of deliverance
A four-line limerick
Spoken with just an utterance.
  
Words I needed to hear
Words spoken so casually, when
I am so unnaturally, irrationally
Unsure of anything
Instant messages from the multiverse
I need to emphasize
Some are heavy, some are light
Some come like thieves in the night

Some come so unexpectedly
I hope they treat me gently
Whatever their intent be
My emotions are raw
Or is it just a slow thaw
I really don’t know, but
I’m wise to their game
I’m not a fool for their pain
Not addicted to the synchronicities
And don’t take it personally
Still
How do they know
Just what to say
How do they know?

Just the same
I’m wise to their game.
I’m a gypsy telling fortunes
I’m a seer telling lies, but
Nobody, no nobody
Knows what I see in your eyes

When my need for you is more than I can bear
I turn on the radio, just to hear
Instant messages from the multiverse
Only I was meant to hear

Conducting the orchestra with an uncanny flair
I tune to your frequency to always keep you near
And fast forward when they’re saying something,  
I don’t want to hear.

I’m wise to their games
This love path is not for the meek
A game of hide and seek
Isn’t there some other way
A formula, a technique

It is in this way
That I get through the day
And that medley of love songs
Well, they’re just foreplay.

Are we on the same frequency?
Creating beautiful melodies.
A symphony of many notes
Half notes, whole notes
Blue notes too.
Don’t ever lose the love notes sent from me to you
Bo Tansky Sep 2018
Love is not a possessive noun
Oh, but all too often it is.
When does the possession begin,
When does the flame become hell,
the hell become swell,
the swell
farewell?

Paw patch scratch
One floor down
Below ground
Where the ***** waters flow
Never knowing its ugliness
Thinking its loveliness
Brown water, groundwater
Brown groundwater swell
Groundswell hell
Makes a lovely sound
Maybe not
Swish, Swish
Below ground
Hush, can you hear a single sound?
Swish, Swish
Swish, Swish
A rumbling, swishing, wishing sound
a grating, whining, pathetic, hissing sound
a howling, fouling, roaring, boring sound.
A scowling, prowling, naught allowing
Unfounded sound
Doesn’t matter sound
Putrefied sound of the underground

Paw, patch scratch
Lonely still sound
Underground pounding
Punching bag sounding
Alphabet rhyming
Say something
I’m crying


The attentions’ not on me
What a pity
What a ******* pity
Because I’m so pretty
Don’t you agree
And if it weren’t for me
Where would you be
Pity, I don’t guilt
I’m so good at it.
Come on. Admit it.
But, I’m not above pointing out
Without doubt
Everything you’re doing wrong
But, that’s not what it’s about
But, don’t take this wrong
I’d much rather listen to a song
Then have a petty quarrel
Your hands can’t hide your thoughts
How caught up
How caught
If there was ever a cookie jar
You wouldn’t get far
You think you would never get caught
But, you give yourself away
Away, away, away
And the queen’s slave shall obey, obey, obey
So you make- thought- a thought-
Ok, but
A line you’d never cross.
And you shall remain boss,
Your good guy status is still intact
I’ll catch up to you on that
But, your thought crossed with mine
(we have a sorta party line)
I never agreed to that line
That really is fine, me I opine
That’s fine
That’s ******* fine
But not mine, not mine

Why am I yelling
Because I’m in hell with you
And I don’t know what to do
I fear it’s a small point I make
Because you never agreed to the premise
What the **** are you
A guru, a nemesis
***** you
And ***** you, too
I laid the premise
It is my poem after all
I can be ******* Cinderella if I want to be
Because ******* Cinderella is me
Anyone can see
That’s it’s true
I have met a prince
And it’s not you


He’s charming
And he loves me from afar
He worships the ground I walk on
He greets me with candles and candy
He serenades me with Rhapsody and brandy
We engage in exciting conversation
And it all comes so naturally


And he doesn’t ******* exist!
Don’t mind my cursing
There are worse things
For me
That’s probably the worse thing
No use confessin
To what you’ve been quessin
But, don’t ruin my fairytale
Don’t ever email
Or text me
Or talk  
Or look at me
See if I ******* care
You were no-where before I met you
Before I met you, I was without you
and I didn’t miss you and
I didn’t know you and I didn’t care,
Surely, I can get back there.
before I met you
I brake for my thought
What am I trying to say
Beyond having it my way
(If it’s ok for frank
frankly, it’s ok for me)
That’s it, I guess
If this ******* mess is mine alone
Why won’t you tell me
I hate messes
And try to fix them every day
But karma catches up to me
Because I make more than I fix
Could be a trick
Or could be me
hiding from me under a storybook tree
Hugging a tree
That can’t hug me  


I love my fairytale confessional
It’s so unprofessional
Obsessional
Impressionable
Digressional
Expression­ able
You know what I mean
If I haven’t explained
No need to complain
No ******* familiar refrain
Just maintain the pain
the unvoyagable pain
Let’s you know you’re real
You can feel
You can bleed
Indeed, you can cross the river
Of pain, once again
But never the thought that never crossed the line
Because you are blind


You are free to go
You already know that
Whenever you choose to go
You can go
You know
Just go, go, go
It’s just



I’m waiting for the crescendo
The ******* endo
When does it end oh?
The thought- that never crossed the line
The star-crossed line was never mine
And all the errant thoughts that followed mindlessly
Telling you what you should and shouldn’t do
Reminding you of the awful consequences, too
Good guys could fall from grace
Good guys don’t fall from grace
Nobody could put Humpty-dumpty together again
Better not to begin

So, I agree
There is no you and me
Stay where you are
Better from afar
So safe from a distance
No social insistence
Take the line of least resistance

There should be a quarrel.
Between us
But, there is not
I’ve censored nothing,
Saved some things-
For surprise
Should it ever get too familiar
And I don’t see that look in your eyes


It’s apple pie in the sky
Why even the apples have browned
But, I like them like that.
I, no culinary aristocrat
So, I baked them in a crusty shell
Told them they're doing swell
And hell,
it was the best apple pie in the sky
as far as I could tell.
Bo Tansky Aug 2018
Loathe to reveal
Feelings you conceal.
You’ve been here before,
Just to be sure.
Is it real? Darling Dear
I don’t know.

Has it stood the test of time?
Define time, she said.
Well, this time  
Is behind
and not ahead

Then, yes
Decidedly no.
Oh, I don’t know
Maybe yes, maybe no
Many lifetimes ago?
How can this be so?
****** if I know.

Just,
Don’t let the cat out.
No doubt.
Out of the box?
Or the bed.
She said.

Is she dead or alive?
We can only surmise.
I think I hear her cry.
I lie.
Yet, it was still a surprise
To find the box
had been ripped apart
By a lonely heart.
Long ago.
And you were the only one
Who didn’t know.


How could this be?
You ask.


No one said anything.
That’s what they do.
Replied you.


You never looked.
It’s better that way.
At least, that’s what they say.


I’m keeping the cat alive,
I replied.
Again, I lied.

Oh, Oh,  Oh,
I don’t know.


So, you mean to tell me,
To make things plain and clear, dear,
I was the only one
The one and only one
Who didn’t know


I’m afraid so.
She said.
So,
If you say go, I’ll go
If you say, stay
I’ll stay


Unless,  there’s another way.

But,
Here’s the hook.
You must never ever look.
You mustn’t look.


You might **** the cat.
And I couldn’t deal with that.
Bo Tansky Aug 2018
Ivory Tower

I was raised in an ivory tower
Above a thunderous cloud
Kept far away,  
Far from the maddening crowd
For your own protection, they avowed
If you care to know why I cower,
I’ll tell you why I do
(And when I speak of me
I hope you will see
It could be you, too.)
It was a time of herbal scents
and flower power
I experienced it from aloft,
It wasn’t love and peace I knew
But a stained-glass window
Covered in frost.

When at last there was a clearing
And I saw my chance to run
I grabbed what I could to survive
And headed for some fun
With someone, anyone
It didn’t much matter
I was out of the tower
Away from the clatter


Here’s where the tale gets a little twisted
I soon found myself back where I started
Only this time I was a Mrs.
A new me
A new you
This is what I thought
But it was only a new tower
And not the freedom that I sought.

None of this was known to me  
As I think you might have guessed
Reality being what it is
It all went unexpressed.

The cycle kept going
Round and round
Until pain was all I felt
Then,
Something must have happened to me
Something came undone
The only way to explain it
Everything was fun

It shocked my hapless heart
And stunned my tired soul
Laughter was all I knew
Laughter left me whole

I laughed everywhere I went
I must have looked quite mad
I saw the humor in everything
And that really isn’t bad

So

What to do?
How many prisons have we created
To find the freedom we’ve forsaken
I couldn’t see
I was counting on you
When it was always me.
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