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Bo Tansky Nov 2020
What poison-tipped arrow of fate
Tempted, toasted, and toppled
Life’s plotting midwife
The denouement of my life
Life
Neither laudable nor laughable
Naughty or nice
Happy or sad
Virtue or vice
Scripted yes scripted
Ghostly ancestral scribes
A lineage of lifetimes
The rules you live by
To get by
To die by
Tick, tick, tick
Your imprint on momma duck
Tick, tick, tick
They wind you up
And let you go
The rules in tow
And at the final unwind
They want to know
What did you learn?
What do you know?
I ****** to move through
the density of doing
Oculists all of them
Why then
Do I grieve you so
Rest in peace
Darling dead
There is no peace on earth
And nothing to be said
There is nothing to know
But, remembering makes it so.
Bo Tansky Aug 2022
Alone in the dark
Waiting for you
A 15-year-old puppy
My only companion
Apart
The photo of you
I carried for so long
Has vanished
It’s true
Searched through all the familiar places
In vain
Packed away in
Some dusty old bin
I’m moving once again
Along the hallway
Two tired stacked
Bins and bins of memories
Like sardines, I packed

I can’t let go
I’ve lost you I know
Yet I can’t let go

Oh, there you are
I’ll someday say
As if a million years
Had not passed away.

Funny how things turned out  
We’ll say
This time, I think you’ll stay
Please stay

Till then
I’m alone in the dark
Without you
I’ll find you someday
Suddenly
Unexpectedly
Isn’t that always the way.

(this is not a sad goodbye but a cheerful moment not yet lived)

Call me delusional
If you must
My imagination
A much-needed respite
Then this world of disgust.
Bo Tansky Feb 2019
I can deal with aging
don’t mind how it slows you down
Even as if
Every step could be your last.

As an aside, while driving
How many truths are revealed
In the mind field concealed
As your driving

Passing an old man with a cane
Who stopped to spit on the sidewalk
Don’t judge, I tell myself,
Sometimes, if I’m being truthful
I hate aging and the aged
Present company included

And that is why Jane Fonda is my hero

Who really knows what goes on in anyone’s mind
I think while I’m driving.

My friend has early Alzheimer’s
Can’t even spell the word
So I think I’ll text her a joke today
I think better of it
My joke goes like this
Maybe you’ve heard it.
Betty White said it.
“My mother always said.
You don’t get older.
You just get better.
Unless, of course, you’re a banana”
Ha, ha
Yeah, then I think
Is it possible she’ll think
I’m calling her a banana.
Makes me wonder
Would I ever call anyone a banana
I don’t know
Maybe, if it fits
Could I be accused of yellow journalism
By some banana loving lunatic
Who thinks I’m sick, sick, sick

I had an ex-mother-in-law
Who passed over a while ago
While she was here
The very epitome of decorum
If it were a different age
She wouldn’t have married
She’d be home at nine
Do what your told, behave
See where I’m going
So proper, so refined
So tell me why
At the end of her life
She spewed the most egregious slurs
To make the most prudent
Sunday school teacher blush.
Maybe she was a secret lush.

What pretty dirt
Is swept under that
Pretty Persian rug
What silk coat does righteousness wear
I swear
What does purity dismiss

And that’s why Jane Fonda is my hero
Will somebody please turn up the heat
It’s like subzero
In here.
Bo Tansky Feb 2020
I am that I am
Not what I am not

Just the same
Looking down &
Flying low
The angel of intention
Wants you to know
Of all the millions,
Trillions of stars in the sky
You are the lone star
That knows why
You prayed for a reason
It wasn’t the season
As reason is the long way home
And you’ve been so long alone,
And
You see the why for and the how
And the love that is now.
The season of reason has come and gone
No abstract equation
Tome of persuasion
Looking for answers
Out there occasion
Can be found.

To be
The love that is now
That knows no limits
Eternal and limitless
Somehow
How forgiveness is meaningless
Your innocence is all that I see
Into the green, some scene somewhere
I’m never alone
Without you
I think I’ll go on living
What for?
Is life worth living?
Down to the bitter end
An illusion or metaphor?
Each day worth waiting for
I know not what
Have no answers,  
Only questions.

Love
Can I call you mine?
Are you a force?
A river that can’t be stepped into twice
Never the same
But, glorious
  
I hope you forgive me my sins, then
As I know there are many
If only I knew
What to do
Believe me, I’d do it
  
A kernel of truth offended
Upended you
I never meant to hurt you.
I’m trying to be more like you.
I put on my man shirt
And man pants
Refused to dance
And didn’t say a thing
Will that do?
Perhaps you’ll say
What’s gotten into you
Mirror on the wall
This isn’t like you at all
I know, I know
I just don’t know what to do
I’m a little lost
Without you.

  
I’m grappling in the dark
With multiplicity
Shattered pieces of my broken reflection
Sugar-coated intention?
Angels are creatures of invention.
I thought you knew
A treaded needle
To sew the discord
A recurrent chord to please
Amplifies my ardor
And then I want to kick you
Into kingdom come
Wishing it over and done

Crowds of chaos and
Cranial confusion
Contusions of caked-on batter
A battering ram
Aimed at my head
I’m dead
To all the illusion
Stuffed in a too-small space
And all the other ones
Like counting crumbs
Coming home
Labeling all the soup cans
On the pantry shelf
For future reference
Bringing the outdoors in
Where windows of light
Singe the demons of the dark
Conspiring to keep apart
My hopeless heart
Hurts
Although I know
We’re all one
Why do I feel so separate and alone
One mind creating fairytales
Out of pixie dust
Out of stone
Will my time ever come?
Are you still on the run?

It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
Bo Tansky Apr 2023
When did you lose your innocence?
When did you learn to not trust
Throwing intuition
Out the window
When you learned
to see the difference
in us

But Darlings
You must learn to trust
or it will be
The End
of Us.
Once again.
Bo Tansky May 2019
So baby,
Would you like to see?
Angry me
Well, ok here it is
I’ll tell you now
How it’s going to be
You listen to me
Agree or disagree
It doesn’t matter to me
Here’s the good news
You’ll never get the blues
The blues are so old news to me
I scream
I cry
I shake my head why
Then deny that this could ever be
Don’t get me wrong
I just want to die to what is
You must listen to me
Because I’m your muse
Only with me will you be free
And only I allow you to see
Agree or disagree
It means nothing to me
You lie
You deceive
You pretend to be
Something you’re not
You need to get down on your hands and knees
And pray to be
The you, you need to be
My truth is tainted with anger
But my anger is always the truth
Agree or disagree
It really doesn’t matter to me
You have nothing to say
So, you might as well pray

Because I’m not writing you a love song
I don’t have it in me
But I can see more clearly
Than I ever did before and
All the disparate parts of me
Their all part of a whole
And not some disassociated part of me

I’m so sad to not love you anymore
But there will always be a part of me
So, baby
You need to get down on your hands and knees
Because you have nothing to say
You might as well pray
Because I’m not writing you a love song
I don’t have it in me
Because you don’t see
What’s right in front of your eyes
You tell lies
And you don’t listen to me anyway.

I’ve heard goodbye before
When you slammed the proverbial door
This time I think I really mean it.
Bo Tansky Dec 2018
A friend and I were texting the other day
He always writes the nicest things
It caused me to think
Maybe we could plan a future
Incarnation-
And off went the link
Without the slightest-
Hesitation
Mentioned it to Slick
Being the usual ****
He said You said
What!
What an absurd thing to say
For the smallest sec, I thought
Maybe I said something
I naught
Then came to my senses
Knowing he was building more fences-
As usual.

Don’t let yourself get pulled in
By the delusional
It was only meant to amuse
I said to defuse
The firestorm of confusion
About to begin
Let it go
Said my better half
Later you can laugh
At the boundaries that surround
The bottomless judgments that abound
The absurd who all know better
And follow to the letter
Caged by their supposed wisdom
Impaled by their royal kingdom
Their uncontested knowing
Their perception deception
Pathological psychological garbology
Can’t take a joke
Diabology
Maybe you take yourself too seriously
Deliriously deluded polluted
Raging and crazily concluded
Me only filter
Is this a rant?

Several days later I get Tyler’s reply
Hehe says he
That place sounds lovely! I’m in
We’re probably experiencing it somewhere.

Yes, said I
In multi-dimensional lives.

What is you?
What is me?
What do you hope to see?
Said he
How about now.
It’s an ever-changing mystery.

The aforementioned place
Being an exotic planet somewhere in hyperspace
With two moons, purple sunsets and no war.
And I
Wondering starry-eyed
Are there other Me’s?
And what could I be up to?
Hehe
Haha
Hoho
Only God knows.
Whoever she may be.
Bo Tansky Mar 2019
Seems so obvious
When I think about it
That I’ve been operating from the wrong end
Surely that would explain why
So many cautious Cartesian carts
Are leading their stupid stubborn mules
Down a hard rock road
Yes, you like it
When I lose control and balk and kick
Call you names
Act insane
Act like a fool
You can feel the pain, feed the pain
Better than feeling nothing at all
How do I separate from you
Is it even possible to do
Being such an essential, as backward ingredient
In vain are you
So I talk to you
As if you were real, here, mine
It’s the law of assumption
I assume
Do I assume too much of you
This isn’t what I set out to do
Everyone has taken everything from me
I had to set some boundaries because some have none
Their machinations
Aren’t so obvious
Thieves and robbers without guns and masks
Is one better than the other
Or are they the same
They take and take and take and take
Till there’s nothing left
And when the supply has run dry
They disregard
I hate to think
You did the same
Because you enjoy the pain
Just not yours
Balk all you want
Then pause your balking
And your nice talking
Your nonsense
Your rationalizations
Abounding
You want the truth
I want the truth
That’s it
You are the tip of some frozen iceberg
I’ve joked and choked on your lies
Try again
In some other life
This time, if you can
Let’s be truthful
I may be hiding in a poem
But you’ve disguised yourself so well
In your own song
That you don’t even recognize you
Am I being mean to you baby
Maybe is all I can say
When you graduate from kindergarten
If you’re a good boy
If you behave yourself
And stop lying to yourself
Take off your mask
Turn in your guns
Walk back, talk back
Come back
As you are
Or just stay away


Did you know you have to own a white colored car
To order from the Starbucks drive-thru in Boca
It’s true
They made a corporate decision
If you want to run with the A crowd
It’s ok if you do
But, you had better trade in your many shades of grey
They’re so not you
You, you’re so true
Through and through
Don’t ask what did you do
You did nothing
Nothing.
Nothing at all

You’re as hard as a rock
Stubborn as a mule
And I’m tired of being a fool

If you’re so smart
Why do you tell so many lies?
Why the disguise.
I feel you balking.
Balk you too.

There I feel better.
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 Jun 2019
You’ve come a long way
Some would say full circle
Where endings are beginnings
Beginnings endings
Never endings
Never beginnings

Before
Birth to Mother Earth
Before
There was a thought to come
Before
Staging had begun
Before
The veiled curtain parted
Where you danced as one
then departed

Destinations gleamed
Slates wiped clean
A lot going on behind the scene

Spiraling in hyper-space
Crash landing
Somewhere in time-space
It didn’t quite fit
It was
A loosely knit counterfeit

You
They named you
Cloaked you in shrink-wrap
Sheltered you in familiarity
Bagged and boxed you in
Taught you what they knew
Until you believed it to

You
Wanderer of the dichotomous night
Was It black before it was white?
Was it dark before the light?
Was it doubt before insight?
Have we come to reconcile the night?
Or for the sheer afternoon delight?

Chance is an orchestrated dance
Like puppets on a string unseen
Strung and scripted
Playing parts unrehearsed
Puppeteers will cheer
When you come undone
To yourself

Who is it about perfection?
That requires us to sow
Seeds of imperfection
A baptism by fire
Until all that is left
Is emptiness
And experience
You.
Bo Tansky Jun 2019
Standing naked before your creation
Too close to the ragged and shadowy edge
Where Metaphor and What the Hell is it All For
Made a ceremonial pledge

Not to Tell

“Embracing the edge is the only sensible thing to do.
Cliff hangers are not for cereal killers
Who take their cereal without a crunch.
Captain, you don’t play well with others.
I’m going on a hunch.”

“I have no idea what the hell your talking about, replied What the Hell is it All For” You talk in riddles and followed him out the door.
Bo Tansky Aug 2020
The baby still cries
But she’s much wiser now
She ran home
Pounded on the door
Please let me in
I live here
Where you are
The rest
Just an empty quest
For nothing at all.
Bo Tansky Oct 2021
Get out of the way
Get out of the way
Hear what I say
Get out of your way
Wayward child
Wild child
Give up the fight
Child of delight
Get out of your way
Child of light.

You chase your shadow
Thinking it real
You adore your title
Like an armor of steel
You crush your opponent
Like a good soldier should

Get out of your way
If only you could.

Who is the one
You seek to defend
To the bitter end?

Sweeten the ***
It's not asking a lot.

Try to trust a guru
of nothing much.
Bo Tansky Jan 2021
I have contemplated the meaning of life
As if contemplation imparts meaning or depth
As if meaning imparts meaning
or depth.

Then in linguistic merriment
I leapt
Ad Infinitum
Ad nauseum
Ad lib
Ad absurdum
Life as a language
Ad verbum
And round and round I went
Always Looping back to myself
Then in one grand sweeping motion
I deferred to you
Life
Where and then
I came to rest
Always different
Yet always the same

I have contemplated the meaning of life
As if there were somewhere to be
Someplace to go
A vagabond’s journey
How funny
A lesson learned
A righteous rule
A digital ballroom
A barroom brawl
Y’ all
A loveall.
And I have contemplated the meaningless of life
Just something to do
Perhaps better than nothing  
Nowhere to go
No roadmap to get there
Except
Here where
You are
Life
Love
I am.
Bo Tansky Dec 2018
I continue to suffer, God
Separate from Your Infinite Awareness
Fetal and curled up inside myself
I continue the battle outside myself
Having not the honesty to face
What’s felt inside myself
Love, you have so long eluded me
Love tell me where you hide from me.
Intermittently you return to me
You are always felt like another
While I struggle to find you inside of me
Why is it only with another that I find me?
Peace and tranquility apart from me
So, God, if I ask these questions
And if I am you
So, must you too.
Is that why you created me
And the others I see
Could it be, ***
That I created you and
That you were lonely too?
Could we be
The ultimate entertainment for you
Or for me
Like characters on a moving screen
You gave us names
You gave us roles
You gave us means
But you forgot to tell us
It was only a game
You designed
To keep us entertained
That would be too cruel
So, I may have to overrule
That scenario, however
You really are the ultimate Lothario
Looking for love
In all the wrong places
Looking for love
In the crawl spaces of your mind
While you were dishing it out
You left some of us out
A Brahmin once said
Cease to cling to yourself
Who should you cling to when no one is there
I know I’ve misconstrued the point
It’s true and
If that is true and I am you
It is true for you too
So, you should cease to cling to me
Pretend if you can that you are me
And no one was there
What would you do?
Probably cling to you, too.
And I know there are more important things to say
But I’m just writing what comes up for me  
For God’s sake
Maybe it’s not pretty
Maybe it’s nitpicky
Who’s to say
And who are you anyway?
No disrespect intended
Covering my bases
Just in case
She turns out to be a he
With an ax to grind
Oh, nevermind!
Bo Tansky Feb 2019
Yes, I think I did it
Didn’t I do it
I mean, you saw me do it
Yes, you did
You saw me do
What I’ve never been able to do
Which was to say
Love you
Love me
It was nothing
Nothing at all
Nothing to do
Was it even true

I stare into space
Implacable clockface
Worn-out bookcase
All the knowing I stuffed
Shelved, just in case
Ornamental armament
Bounded & staged
Dialectical argument

I did nothing
Who did nothing
You did
No, I didn’t
Who are you talking to
Who’s asking
Don’t answer a question with a question
Don’t tell me what to do
Relax we’re only talking
Don’t patronize
Don’t criticize  
Well that’s what I mean
Was I doing Nothing,  
Or Something?
What did I do?

I mean
Was it Nothing
Or
Was it Something
Tell me
Was Nothing Something
or
Was Something the Nothing I did
or
Nothing the Something I did
I’m an Escher painting
One hand painting the other
Thing is
I don’t know
But that is the very thing I know

Talking to a friend today
She says
I got to go
My daughters calling me
Thing is
She doesn’t have a daughter
Or does she

Thing is
I know
She wanted to talk about her thing
And I wanted to talk about my thing

I know
How this looks to you
But here’s what you need to know
I’ve listened and listened and listened
I’ve been a listening machine
So shut the **** up
I’m not your therapist
This I’ll only do for my daughter
You mean our daughter.
Whatever

But, here’s the real thing
A think thing
You don’t have to say anything  
But’ it’s better if you do  
Because I need you to
But not like this
So maybe it’s better if you don’t
But, that’s not the real thing
Maybe It’s better if you do
Or don’t
Then Don’t
Then Do
Don’t
Do
Don’t
Do
Then Don’t
Then Do
Please Do
I think I’m thru with you!
But wait
I have to think this through
Where have I heard that before
Not from me.
Bo Tansky Aug 2022
Time it heals all wounds
So they say
Yet, there are lazy afternoons
Where all I can do is pray

A fervid prayer
For your return
Left me a basketcase
Of slash and burn
Slash and burn

Yesterday but a memory
We frolicked, we loved
We're children at play
N tiptoed away the youth
Of our day
Day after day

Love, oh love
Where have you gone
Do you think of me still
In the silent reverie of dawn
Time it heals all wounds
So, they say
Yet the line that connects time
Could never feel this way

Where are you now, love
Someday
Somehow love
Will you ever again
Walk through my door
That way
The way you did before

Day after day
I pray
For your return
A basketcase
Of slash and burn.
Slash and burn
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
Tis the day of walking dead
Zombie look at me
Look at me
Do I appear to be
Among the living
It may seem that way
Going about my business
Greeting the day
In a polite conversational way
If you look closely you will see
That I see
What I see
Means nothing to me
That I hear
What I hear
Means nothing to me
Such is the mind of the walking dead
Scooped out meaningness
A hollow and vacant cadaver
A brown paper wrapper
I gaze out the window
A little red bird, restfully
Perched on a chain link fence, then
What non-thought moves you  
Branch to unsteady branch
Are their other little red birds nearby
With which, with whom you can fly
Please tell me why
For I am lost to my flock
My concrete view is filtered
Through shades of green and gray
Is that gray with an e or an a
Never mind
While motion stills my mind
Cars of steel fly by
Framing the sill
Leaving thought things behind

Tis the day of the walking dead
The dead don’t try
They just die
And keep walking
Unshakable and unbreakable
Perhaps numbing death
Leaving behind
The unkind
Tendencies
Of one kind or another
Perhaps one of many
Perhaps painful
Perhaps slow and steady
A prayer and a song
You’re wrong
  
My breathing is shallow
Thoughts keep repeating themselves
Synaptic electric mantras
Chemical fueled and fused
Electra orchestra
Shades of Zarathustra

(ok, forget it
you don’t mean it
ok, you meant it
eat mush for breakfast every single day
day after boring day
eat mush today because
you ate mush yesterday
and the day before
and the day before
the day before
mush, mush, mush
such maudlin sentiments
stirred up my resentment
because
well I happen to love mush
you really must
will you please
save some mush
for me
because I happen to love mush
the way I do
and understand it
the way I do
and can’t stand it
the way I do
that your mush is not for me
and I’m seeing red
but it’s not a bird
and it’s not perched peacefully
on a fence)  

That you have made room for mush
Is so sweet
So sensible

For someone else
So, crybaby
You were somewhere in the woods
Crouched down
Behind yourself
Standing
I waved to yourself standing
To move
Then threw a ticking clock at your head
Crouching down
No symbolism intended

I meant it to hurt
And hope that it did
So you can be among the walking DEAD.
Then I woke up
So satisfied
What's wrong with me?
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
Well, that was one hell of a poem
That will never see the light of day
I’ll just hide it away
In a folder on my laptop
Marked
Not to be read
Unless I am dead
The curious will surely want to read it then

You need to separate the wheat from the chaff
The boys from the men
You need to separate the uncensored
From the censored
The undone from the done
You thought it
You wrote it
You spoke
There must be something you liked about it
If there is I don’t know what it is
I’ll return to it in the morning
When I’m mourning my awakening

There is nothing I like about it
There are no words I care about
There are no seasons that shine
Reasons that rhyme
No rhymes sublime
I have left it all behind
In the gloom of my mind

All the sparks have been extinguished
I think and think and think
It’s brought me to the brink
Where have I gone wrong
I reach down deep inside of me
But, can’t seem to find the way in me
I’ve lost my muse
I’m not amused, but I am
Without my inspiration
The emptiness screams at me
Exasperating my damnation

I can’t seem to take another step
The heaviness deflates me
That’s not me you see
On the floor
Please just ignore what you see
Step over me
Go around me
Let me be
Let me wallow in my pity
Pity, please
I can still be the witness to
My woundedness

In the solitude of my loneliness
Diving into my emptiness
The depressive blob finds me there
It spreads like the black plaque
Where ever it goes
Filling every crevasse
With what isn’t me
Phlegmatic globs of stickiness
Yet I can’t seem to separate from
it’s grasping crusty tentacles

it is me
it isn’t me
does it matter
when you’ve lost your inspiration
and you’re as low as you can go
and nothing seems to matter
the world spins on slow
you know it’s just a cycle
you’ll come back around
and you’ll land with
your feet on the ground
but, not now.

Have I given away my power
Why can’t I be the one
Who inspires me
Why am I not enough
Am I playing too tough
Too rough
You can be rough and tumble
Still, stumble and fall
I said
To no one at all

You like everything you are
Even when you’re subpar
Who’s to be the judge
Have you heard
No what
The judge retired from the bench
That’s not true
I knew he was lying
I have my spies
Who do the spying
Really
Yes really
That’s quite silly
I feel the fog lifting
I fear it’s lifting
Because it was so comforting
Like an old blanket
That’s so familiar
And that’s even sillier
I feel the fog lifting
Time to put my head
Under the blanket
And go on another mind junket
Bo Tansky Jun 2019
Once upon a time
On a fence in a garden somewhere
Worse than Mary’s lamb lost in the woods
She hasn’t slaughtered the poor lamb
And fed it to the wolves
As she’s been rumored to
I lied when I said
Fairytales don’t come true
Why would Mary be so cruel
To make them eat gruel
If my poem doesn’t rhyme
Must be a bad sign
Because my hearts on the line
Because you left me behind
I need to read between the lines
But all I think about is you
So, in the same way they shoot horses
Tell me it’s not true
Save me from playing the fool
Because I’ve never been here before
And I don’t know what to do
Without you.

This must be a fantasy
Because I no longer need you to be
I made you real
Carved you out of wood
I’m a master carver
I love what I do
I love my creations
You can fill in the last line
If you want to.

Don’t believe what I say
Because I’m still on the fence
Telling Lies
It’s not true
This is me pouring my heart out
First, it’s yes
Then it’s no
Then go away
Then stay

Now wouldn’t it be so unlike Mary
To slaughter the poor lamb
She’s not that cruel

I know I’m waffling
The fence is narrow
And I can’t stay here forever
But don’t send the sirens just yet
I only meant
I’m coming down from the fence
The end.
Bo Tansky Oct 2019
These days
Was it something in the air
Rancid spite of the right  
Or the self-proclaimed hubris
Of every self-proclaimed guru
Of certainty turned onto its left side
Two camps had pitched their tents
On opposite sides of Main Street
Rooted in the traditional
With a propensity for being right
Missionaries for some diva god
Who has come to save the planet
Kryptonite is dynamite
We’ll only use it if we need to:
Blow up the people
In order to save the world

Although they deny they’re on a mission
When they’re in remission
Hear
The bombastic roar of broadcast rhetoric
Scripted with a very felt pen
All armchair generals
Arguing with a passion
Dare not felt for one another
“I can figure out the world
But you, Sir
I have a problem with.”

The streets emptied of nonconformity
Littered and poised with positioning
Salvos of so-called sanity
Fronts and flanks
In every shade
But grey
Postings on every corner
Foot soldiers of the faithful
Rallied in like-minded circles
For comfort and confirmation
Aplomb with understandings grasped
No room for namby-pamby
Wishy-washy
Confirmation bias
Only hearing what you want
Fire if necessary.
**** what you cannot agree on
Ignore what you cannot understand.

Choice was not an option
Backed into a corner
Conformity was
Comfortable as a worn recliner
Recliner beware and be bothered
We’ve been here before
Do you remember
Words, words, words
And sticks and stones and all of that
Was never true
Every politician worth his salt knew
Speeches that sear by fireside
Emblazoned by passions ignited
And smolder in the light of day
A Colosseum of coifed gladiators
Spectators raise a sword
And toast the spoils.
Bittersweet.
Now
Words avow
Ammunition packed in a pistil
To go
More powerful than the splitting of the atom
Is the splitting of minds.
  
When it doesn’t feel right.
And you know it’s not right
Because that’s the way it feels
And feelings never lie
But people do.

A world-weary of war games
What kernel of dubious truth
Do you separate from the chattering chaff?
And cling to
Not this
Not this
Not that

Feelings
The riptide of dissension
Tearing at heartstrings
Tearing the tents apart
Mars on a rampage
Venus in an iron cage

And in the quiet of night
A respite from being right

The
Homeless & disenchanted
Walked the dark streets alone
Pitched a solitary tent
And spent the night
Under the stars
And dreamt of peace
and beauty.
Bo Tansky Mar 2020
Let me tell you a story
Not so long ago and faraway
In a verdant land of doers
The doers were you and me
And just about everyone you see
The doers did the same thing every day
They did, they did, they did
The doers who did, who didn’t know better
They named the land freedom
The doers in this green freedom land
Were suddenly forced to stop doing
They looked everywhere for something to do
Everything had already been done
There was nothing for all the doers to do
What to do?
What to do?
They lamented
If we can’t do this or that
What, then, is there to do
To the doers doing was everything
So, they did
The only thing left to do
They did nothing at all
And then something magical happened
You guessed it.
They found what they were looking for
It was everything!
It was always there
Hiding in nothing

The last place they thought to look
Stunned
The doers looked at one another
Was it even possible?
How is that possible?
When the doers thought about it
It was always staring them right in the face
Of course
Of course,
they thought
It was so obvious
The doers found
What they didn’t even know they were looking for
It was nothing at all
It was just something to do
And to the doers
That was everything.
LOL
Bo Tansky Jan 2020
1.
The child is petulant
The terrible twos
Lasted 42 years
Then along came the teenage years
She was always in tears
It’s not that baby
Refuses to grow up
Doesn’t want to grow up
Maybe she’s scared
Somebody gave the baby a bottle
She seemed fine for awhile
Then something erupted inside her
Where did that come from?
Where is it going?
How long before we get there?
Are we there yet?
How long before we get there?
On and on and on
The baby never shuts up
Blah, blah, blah
Then along came the tears  
Then blah, blah, blah
You can hear her even when she isn’t saying anything
That’s when you hear her the loudest
She doesn’t understand what you mean
Are you trying to tell her
She’s not good enough?
What does a baby know about not being good enough?
She only did what comes naturally
And signed it with love
No one believed her
Well you know how kids are
Short-term memory
And all that
She’ll forget about it
Sooner or later
Maybe then she’ll learn some manners
Learn to not speak her truth
Learn to pretend
Like everyone else
You don’t trust her
You should trust her
She never lied to you
She’s so bothersome
Why be bothered
Shut up
Shut up
Shut up
Would it be better if she said
Hush
Hush baby
Don’t cry, darling
I’m here
I’ll always be here
So hush
Don’t cry, baby
Baby don’t cry
(That works)
Go where you want to go, darling
I’ll always be there for you
(that works even better)
2.
Will she ever come out of the shadows?
Reminds her of a spooky soap opera
The Shadows
“The shadows don’t lie”
In a Rod Sterling voice
She never watched soap operas
Except at a Chinese buffet
As a captive audience
On a barely audible screen
Slurping Chinese noodles
Almost better than spaghetti
Don’t cry, baby
Don’t cry
It’s just a story
A narrative
Not necessarily true
But true if it’s true
Not out of necessity
True
Forget it
She’s crying again
She just feels sorry for herself
All the time
She’ll get over it
Babys always do.
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
You, story master of comparison
Can you see without your Claritin?
Even the tools of your insight
Have they helped to make things right?
The story of your life
Is one among many
Your unique point of view
May only be true for you
And those that think like you do
There really is something to this wish fulfillment
But don’t think because you saw it out there
It’s the lords’ prayer.
So thinkers think
and
lovers’ love
and
dreamers continue in dreams.
Still, everything is not what it seems.

We think we are above
the beautiful greenery
scenery that we see
but did you ever see a tree
compare itself to another  

Said one tree to another:
Your foliage is a pale shade of yellow
Your bark is a lark
And you can’t play the cello
Like me
What kind of tree can you be?

Do the bees share their honey
or
does one crafty bee have a secret stash
hidden below the window sash
that he’s saving for a rainy day,
A getaway?

Did you ever hear a songbird say  
My song is sweeter than yours.
My high notes higher
On swifter wings do I soar.

If you’re tempted like me
To let a bee be a bee
And a tree be a tree
You will understand
If you want to soar
Don’t first attempt it from the highest floor
Don’t think there is a highest floor
Don’t think you need to soar
Don’t try to understand
Just let a bee be a bee
A tree be a tree
These are the things will set you free
Like the wind
You will wind like a gentle breeze
Then gust if you must
Never making a fuss
Don’t think you are,
Were, will ever be, anything
More or less than me,
Us, you, they, whoever
It was when I realized that all my trying
Simply wasn’t working
And I gave up.
But all it caused to say was
****.


I get it,
I really do
But,
Personally
If I want to keep you near dear  
I must set you free dear
Understand it’s very hard for me
I think you’ll agree.
I know what to do
Doesn’t mean I’ll do it
I’m not like a gentle breeze
More like a hurricane than a sneeze
Depends on your point of view
Because you see me,
Through you.
It’s true.
I have no idea what that means
It may be true
For all I know
I said so I should have meant it
I think it’s more like
I see through you,
Too
You can come out of the closet
And I will come out too,
But only with you.
Because we are the only two in there.
I don’t see anyone else.
Do you?
I’m not suggesting what you think
Far from it
So far from it
You know what I mean
No point in explaining
If nobody gets it
You do
And you’re not complaining.

So if you don’t want to be a bored buddha,
Eat some bread and buttar
Don’t forget to shutter
Stutter
Flutter
Mutter
Never rebut her
Never say mame
Because you found the only ******
And now you’re in a jam.
Bo Tansky May 2019
Funny how the feeling comes and goes
Could it be, you’ll stop haunting me soon
You know some days I think just like a loon
But, in the end, give me one good reason
To stay,  
The hanged man
Broke loose from his noose
The castles in peril
The queens mean
And the subject sterile
So,
Down dog down,
Don’t make me scream and holler
I swear I won’t put you in a collar
And walk you around like a puppy dog.
I only wanted to keep you close to me
Hopelessly, I see for wanting a dialogue

Do one and one make two?
Am I still a friend to you?
If not, please tell me what I did or didn’t do
Because I was always trying to be a friend to you
Was I overbearing in my caring?
Did I say too much or not enough?
I know you hated my gushing and mushing and my leaning on you
But you know, if truth be told
I know you don’t really care
It’s true
If I said you act like this because you don’t really care
You tell me it’s not true
But breakthrough, it is true
You don’t really care for much.
It’s not really a lack of sufficiency
But it could be
More like a chosen, frozen stringency contingency
**** it, don’t we see in everyone else
What we don’t see in ourselves.
Because you know the highs and lows
Is that why the feeling comes and goes
It could be true of me as well

Why do I have to follow protocol?
It’s your call, you know
Slayer of untruth
Wreaker  of havoc
Assassin unfastened
I’m knee deep in denial
The jury has declared a mistrial
Don’t know what’s ahead
Maybe my deathbed
No magical carpet ride, try instead
Ossified, petrified, vilified
Rider of the dark night
Looking for a guiding light
Frozen, chosen neophyte
On the backside of truth
Cockeyed seeker of
A fountain of youth
Found it in a bottle of vermouth
It was short-lived
Started to fizz
That is
What I’m trying to say
Do you understand now
If you do, please tell me
There’s nothing I can do
I’m me and you’re you
If you understand
If you do, please tell me
Do one and one make two
Or is it a roadmap
Am I a doormat?
Have I
Forsaken myself
For the love of a lover
Or is it just a cover
For not liking me.
Bo Tansky Feb 2019
Crepuscular creatures of comfort
Ensconced in your distant corner seat
With your paper folded and neat
Existential and conventional are you
Criss Crossing boxes of clues
Pigeonholed decoder of choose
Or not
Looking only for the clues that fit
Make it or break it or quit

I take my tea and sit
next to him
With a mischievous grin
I begin
I hope I’m not disturbing you
Which is exactly what I hope to do
Well not in a mean way
I was just hoping that I too could play
But this isn’t a game for two
I clearly haven’t a clue

Let’s approach it from another angle
Which is not exactly horizontal
Or vertical
But rather hysterically versatile
Or farcically upended and perhaps juvenile
Not the approach you should take
With one who is filling in boxes
Looking not
Not to make a mistake

Do you always finish your puzzles?
Say I
Oh yes says he
Perhaps with a spark of glee
Their numbered by degree of difficulty
You see
Oh really, say I, I didn’t know that
What number are you completing
This one is four
They change by the day.
Doesn’t everything
I think  
But, don’t say.

I play to keep my mind active
He offers.
Your talking to the horizontally damaged
Vertically challenged
I think
He continues
To keep things interesting
There are some days I only do the down boxes
Wow, I think
That’s really interesting
So god ****** interesting
That’s so interesting
I think I could choke on my tea
But excuse me
I think I have to ***.
Maybe the joke was on me.

My take away
If you want to complete the puzzle
Don’t look for someone who does the down boxes
On your up days
You’ll never be on the same page.
Bo Tansky Mar 2019
I'm going into Delray
Where anonymity is thy name
Poets & Truth seekers- your words
have reached into the deepest part of me
with your honesty, integrity
That stretches into eternity
Straddling the limitless &
Could care less
With synchronistic simplicity
Where you have reconciled
The Infidel
Duplicity

Shall I continue
without you
can't go on this way.
I’m dying to be reborn
A sweet surrender is it
where pain
doesn’t gain
the upper hand.
dying
pure
silent
alone
gone
change
peace
love
living is too hard.
Did I mention how hurt I am
By your duplicity
How I had to hug the hurt
Till it no longer hurt
So bad
and then
The hurt is hugging me back
In gratitude
Duplicity
till I live and love and hurt
and die and with
a hurt unremembered
am I reborn?
  
I must go now
Yet, there is nowhere to go
And no one to go there with.
I find a picturesque parking spot
It will do
With a pond and an occasional duck
I should remember to bring some crackers.

Hang there for a while
Like some significant solo meeting
The company has requested your company
But,
I’m very busy and cannot attend
I’m feeding the ducks
I’ve studied quackery
Enjoyed the scenery
On my way to the winery
the meeting will convene without me
or
let it be

Friendly and intoxicating
with lots of bubbles bursting
Smart and stupid silly bubbles
Spacious with ducks
And dogs
And squirrels
music
And Laughter
And love
That’s where I want to be
With me.
Bo Tansky Nov 2018
Echo, Wood nymph of folklore
Punished by Goddess Hera
Hated, there was no choice
Fated, deprived of her voice
Repeating words you hear
Punishment for a puppeteer
You fell in love
so you thought
With Narcissus
But he got caught
Looking at his own reflection
Turned him into a flower
Not his finest hour
Leaving Echo lonely and sad

For all the cads that
Never met a mirror they didn’t like
Who’s self-absorbed refection
Removes any trace of reflection
A thought can be misleading
Even if informed by a feeling
Don’t think
Because you think it it’s true
Consider others point of view
Don’t think because I disagree
There’s something wrong with me
Don’t always refer to you
Your grandiose style
Is just a grandiose denial
And while you deny that it’s true
Only an echo believes in you
Must I echo your words
How utterly absurd
This I can’t do
Even if it displeases you
Nothing moves you
Except for the powerless, you occasionally feel
Let’s you know you’re real
And yes
The rage is real
Hidden so well
That no one can tell
As you covertly hide from yourself
Your histrionics are first rate
Always out of date
A recording from the past
You’d think, you’d have worn out the grooves
Of the characters you cast

At last
There’s never an end
To the people I meet

All the friends you absorbed
Into the persona that’s you
Each has a name
But there nameless to you
I say
I know where you got that from
You say
There’s nothing new under the sun
I say
What about originality
You say
Plausible deniability
I say
I really, really need to get away
I say
Then, why do you stay?

I’m in search of my voice
I left it behind
In another time
I need it
Have you seen it
It could be
Anywhere
Under the couch
In the closet
Under the bed

You’re looking in the wrong places
The world’s a reflection
Of the spaces
Between the thoughts
Of your stasis.

It’s true
I’m never alone when I’m with you
Like living in a zoo
Forgive my sarcasm
Lack of enthusiasm
That’s what it feels like
Being with you.
First, you’re uncle Fester
Then you’re Grandma Ester
Who are you really
You don’t know
Do You

You never looked that far
Skin deep
Go that deep
Take a look
What do you see
It isn’t me

I’m not the object of your hatred
I’m not your scapegoat
Forgive the diatribe
For I am a scribe
Looking for her voice.
I am Echo no more
Bo Tansky Aug 2019
The day dripping
Melting
Towards its final demise
The night uncovered/discovered
A cover for all the nights’ disguise
Either way
Making way
For the ticktock busyness of the fray
Time to dress/undress
Do/undo
Whatever’s underway
Such a lonesome stay
Either way
It’s ok
The where is neither here nor there
She said
She was
A crepuscular creature
Of neither night nor day
A potpourri of either way.
Revealing simply what she wants to say.
A reconciliation of either way.
Bo Tansky Nov 2020
Standing naked before creation
Close to the rugged, shadowed edge
Where “Metaphor and “What’s it all for”
Made a pledge
They agreed to disagree
It was just as well
They came from opposite sides of the fence
Foretell
There were times when it got pretty intense
And it wasn’t always romance

Embracing the edge
Is the only sensible thing to do
Cliff hangers are not for cereal killers
Who take their cereal without a crunch
Who don’t play well with others
I’m going on a hunch

“You talk in sugar-coated sentiments”
Said, “What’s it all for?”
“What’s more
I have no idea what you’re talking about”
And followed him out the door.
Bo Tansky Nov 2020
The canvas is even emptier
Then before
A blaring blanket of white
Even emptier than
The paper on which you write
No lines for boundaries
No direction
No guidance
Does it define us?
We keep on writing
Creating
To fill the emptiness
With prettiness
That denies us.
Bo Tansky Dec 2019
What did I do to deserve this?
I died and no one was there
Perhaps a gentle knowing
Foretold the ending of despair.

Cocooned in a velveteen darkness
A peignoir of shimmering stars
A constellation of good nights
Echoed from afar

I but not I
Crawled on all fours
Over pillows of stone, then
Laid on a bed of time
Above me the pine
Silhouetted on a black canvas sky
Has the baby bird earned its wings?
When finally able to fly.

I but not I
I am the pine above me
And the ground where I lie
And the darkness that surrounds me
And the void into which I died

I but not I
Am you
The self of all selves
Am I
And the magpie and the fly.

Still the night
Alienated from the day
Still the mind
Alienated from the thought
Still, and
If you’re very quiet
You can hear the night reply
With a whimper and sigh-
Dreams are meant for dreamers.
Tis the nights’ lullaby.

And as I gazed upward
Infinity split inside me-
Just to go where it wants to go
Just to be what it wants to be.

My God, I’ve been blind
But now I can see.
Bo Tansky Aug 2022
You sealed my fate
With your being
Destiny was never my friend
With such a sweet beginning
Broke
Came to an abrupt end.
Wrote to you
The truest words I knew
Whilst
My words always
Seemed to miss the mark
With you.
Persuaded to make them
Truer and truer
You cast me in the role of  wrong doer
Truth in the eyes of the viewer
Neither saint
Nor evil doer.
Am I.

Where do I go from here?
Perhaps eternity awaits in a song
Perhaps destiny rewrites all wrongs
If I’m wrong
I’m lost
Don’t want to be found
If I’m wrong
I’m lost
As long as you are not around.
Bo Tansky Mar 2019
Some stories are more true than others
This may be one of them
Or it may be another
Some bend the line
Between fiction and fact
I detract……
Believe it or not,  
Back before the world began
Before you were you
And I was me
We created the world
The way
We wanted it to be
So don’t be so proud of all your degrees
Because you created you
The way I wanted you to be
You decided where you would live
What you would do
All the experiences you would go through
I’d tell you this is a fable
And that’s one reality
If you were only able
To understand
You’re under an umbrella
Of insanity
Or could that be me
Fear not, Sir Lancelot
Your truth lancer
Is just a fantasy dancer
She’s never coming for you
Is that what you want her to do
You should never believe a fantasy dancer
Did you ever hear the riddle
Or was it a conundrum
About the two brothers
One always told the truth
And one always told a lie
How to tell the difference
It really wasn’t necessary
I’ll tell you why
hmmm
I forget the point I was going to make
Something about what is true
And what is fake
Yes, I think that was it.
So while you were planning
To do everything right
I was escaping into the night
The streets were lit in incandescent light
Nocturnal prowlers of the twilight
We too were hoping to get it right
Living under the shroud of night
Rising as the sun is setting
Bed wetting
Corset letting
Underground abetting
Courter’s of midnight insights

But in the end
Even the darkness was so bright
One gets tired of the artificiality
Self-imposed marginality
And decides to come into the light.
Bo Tansky May 2022
Hived robotic masses
Hypnotic msm watching mind-altered
Scripted minions of
False and fake truth
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up

The war is real
Know it how it’s felt

Truth is real
Know it how it’s felt

The cameras are pointing at you
Please don’t pose and take a selfie

Oblivious to the creepy crawlers,
Bug-eyed, bug-sized and
Detonated.

Shoot them when they’re not looking
Don’t get me started on
Those that pose
For the camera
(Not You)

Neurotic synapses missing a few
Beats-projectiles
Looking for connections everywhere
Everywhere
Finding a few.
Bo Tansky Mar 2019
Prodigal love of lore and loss
What lore of late-what
Digital dialogue debate
Declares
That in letting go of you
I find me
In finding me
I find you
Who has declared
Two halves do not make a whole
One and one are not two.
What fabricating god has declared it not true
What fabricating god do they hope to make
In the land of milk and money
Silk and gummy
Ilk and rummy
Is it not funny
Honey, are you  
Raw and everlasting-
What does the honey bee know
To make something so sweet, so true
To worship their Queen
Like no other being
Could
I can see clearly now
Doesn’t mean I like what I see
Except for the absurdity of the certainty
That this was meant to be
And the fear that you disagree.

Beautiful St Bridget
Inaccessible are you
Unbroken and unspoken
Your safety net has loosened
Aflutter are your offspring translucent.
Stray just a little
From the comfort of your brides’ bed
Safety brings you home
Safety has left you utterly not
Free to roam
You’re in free fall
Without a prayer shawl
Without your safety net
God gives and God takes away
Who are we to say


What to do with the wild blue yonder
Ponder this crazy blue moon day


Words are a poor substitute
There all I have left
I will miss
The softness of your kiss
That I have never known
Except in some dream
I took home.
Where I’m chained to the bed
Alive and dead
With needle, with thread
Stitch after boring stitch
Sewing ferociously
The pieces of my torn net
To bring back the safety
Of my upset.
Bo Tansky Mar 2019
When you see, seer
The perfection in it all, bang
You’ve lost a point of view
Then are you utterly alone
Like the clown
All around the three ring
Circus-goers
Laugh at the absurd thing
Never suspecting how utterly profound.
Is the life of a clown.

How many bangs have birthed you then
Imprisoned primordial bangs
Bursting the unsuspecting cosmos
What a long childhood you’ve had,
While god watched
From his bang, bang launch pad
Millions of light years went by
Bang, bang
Billions of light tears he cried
Eventually, bang you appear
After
A lustful specialty bang  
Sped spermful and hopeful
To an ultimate conclusion
Destinies union.
You then,
Orchestrating bang-bang moments of between
Beautiful verdant in bloom bangs
Hang from your spring and summer tree
Of your budding truth
Of your hopeful youth
Time capsuled shutter flutter
Contemplative baby bangs soothing
The Epiphanius bang of instant recognition
Bangs so soft
They're hardly bangs at all
Being more like a soft bubble bursting
A quiescent sound
Infinite in its stillness.
Nothing to forgiveness

Then came
The bangs of the winter of your discontent
Explosive in its silent rage
Shattering the iron of its irony
The rage in its engage
The fury in its fleeing
Blind-sighted by seeing
Justified in its sage rage

Follow the bang gang
Puerile and untouched
In its rarest invisible form
Placated and felted
Velvet experiencer
Must touch.
Must taste
Must be seen
Must be to be to be.

Without the sacrificial lamb
You stand
Alone
Neither prey nor predator
Merely a spectator
To a dictator.
You’ve known all along

And frown at the clown
That was only trying to make you laugh.
Bo Tansky Sep 2019
I remember Mama
When the primal scream
Was all the rage.
Ironically and quite literally
Past the somberness and nervousness
You felt
At my unwelcome birth
As I took my first
Battered baby breath
Bursting baby life, once again
Cradle the crib that rocks
Cradle the baby that walks too soon
And talks too little
Cradle the crescendo of emotional wreckage
To follow
As baby after baby
Took its emotional toll on you
Cradle a lifetime of wanting
Looking in every lost and found
For you

This is the conversation continued
Distilled with candor
Comported with clarity
Time has imparted
More real
Less resentment

I can see now
Your displeasing wasn’t personal
Even as it felt that way to me
My gains may have been small
But they were big to me

So many years have come and gone
I’ve learned once again to stand on my own
Yet still, I question if that’s true
I guess in some ways
We were alike
Me and you
But,
There were so, so many differences

I lived tucked away
In ephemeral world of ideas and thoughts
So many books
So many mysteries.

Not by choice
Headfirst, I came in that way
You lived in the world of 3d-
Kids, diapers, doctors and such-
Yes, I know how it sounds
But you would be wrong
I was never a snob
I wanted to share everything
You didn’t want to know anything
You never asked
And I never offered

I needed you to paint me with the colors of love
And not the color of green
I needed you to love
Not envy me
To make me right not wrong
For being me
And not you.

I needed you to see me.
This though
Through the eyes of love.

I needed to forgive you
To forgive me
For all the resentment I felt.
And I wanted to say
In my own way
I am grateful that I
Chose you to be
The mother in me.

And I cried
When I wrote this poem
Because it was
So close to home.
Bo Tansky Aug 2019
As much as you’d like to make light
Of the subject.
And I mean that
Always in a good way.
It still
Freaks me out.
In its stillness
Yes, I’m friggen
freaked out. No doubt
Too much clarity makes me
Wish I was blind. And I
Immediately take it back.
I know you don’t mind
Because I’m so **** superstitious,
and yet
Totally practiced
I’m writing on now
Paper-thin and one-sided
Without my glasses,
blurry and a bit lopsided.
With or without-
On a pale horse
I see you approaching.
And yet
I’m totally freaked out.
And yet,
Sometimes I feel
might it be-
a more comfortable
alternative?
And yet, adlibbing
How long will I be?
Freaked out
By the living.
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 May 2019
Fringe seekers, yearning for truth
How alienated and alone are you
What vacuum of truth are you seeking?
What expression of you are you speaking
You have fallen into a bottomless well
Where safety is the only hell
Down you go
Like Alice
Down and down
It’s a wonderland of your own making
Backbreaking, Earthshaking. Heartbreaking
Painstaking undertaking
While the Queen yells
Off with her head
You lay dead
In the place where
Angels fear to thread
And they pour happiness molecules
into your head
Fools jewels
Because you are stubborn as a mule
And it all seems so cruel
And won’t learn your lesson
I told you it’s you
You, you, you
And there’s nothing I can do
It’s just a fantasy
Of your own making
The curious come to seek the keys
Keys to the kingdom
The doors are too small
The keys are too big
And nothing seems to fit

Pardon moi, si vous plait
Do you happen to know the way?
Qui mademoiselle
The way, quite simply, is anyway
It’s all just play
Play, play, play
I would like to play
Then why do I feel this way?
Bo Tansky Oct 2018
What should I do with my blank slate
Write something about love or
Something about hate
I hate that I wait
Why bother to think
Just go with the flow
Write before you think
You can pause if you need to
For some rhyme to amuse you
But really, you’re looking for
Someone who will not abuse you
Someone to rise to the innuendo
Never taking offense, will defend you
I’m having a me-too moment
Looking for a friend
Not an opponent
I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve
What good has it done me
I think you’ll agree
It’s clear you don’t want to hear from me.
I could apologize for being me
But, why should I
I haven’t done anything
Except endlessly try to be a friend
It’s finally dawned on me
This was the end
So goodbye friend
I just want to say
If I ever offended
Pretended
Defended
I’m sorry
Please forgive me
It was only me being me
Maybe a temporary insanity
Nothing to get alarmed about
Chalk it up to my vanity.
Bo Tansky Sep 2019
When you hide, you seek
On the day I became Jesus
I let the sun shine
The grass grow
The music play  
The crows crow and
And the babies cry.
Oh Sweet Jesus Jezebel
How strange can it be
How ordinary to
Get out of your own way
He said
"There's nowhere to go
And nothing to do."
You asked
"Who’s at bat?"
I answered
"I already told you.
No one."
I’m not sorry for being Jesus
And you shouldn’t be either
If you think it’s broken
Give it to me
I’ll fix it
With my omnipotent powers
But, listen to me Now
How Can You Fix What’s Never Been Broken?
You’re hiding in plain sight.
I'm not meaning to offend anyone. It was written metaphorically and in the spirit of fun, but I think you already know that-lest I become doubly offensive. lol. BAT
Bo Tansky Dec 2021
Need a clean brake
why do they always try to put me
in my place
what is this status madness
life's not measured in
increments and fancy wines
donut holes and dollar signs
don't package me up
with your morning cup
caffeine adrenalin junkies
morning rush
morning hush, hush
i'll see what you mean
if you mean to be seen
or not
so let it out
scream and shout
all the hurt you feel
searching for what's real

have i come to a mission
missionary of light
who determine's
what's wrong or right
god is closer to you in the night

hush, hush
little baby
momma was always there for you
always tried to care for you
my ways are mysterious
but i'm not delirious
now i'm furious
need to get back to kindness.
Bo Tansky Oct 2022
So you, 're a materialist
Who wants to be a spiritualist
Who thinks she's a linguist
When she's not thinking of
Being kissed
I'm ******
What am I?
Do I even exist?
Bo Tansky May 2019
I am an artist
I am not
Painting with oils and with words
Painting arranging itself on a blank canvas
Words stumble and fall into calligraphed stanzas
I am only an artist when I am not
Words, dare I say my
If I’m lucky and don’t try
Favorite colors falling from a rainbow sky.
Bo Tansky Feb 2019
Although God is the reputedly the great, I Am
Now here’s my thinking on the subject
If I can, keep reading
If God wanted you to be just like her
Why did he create you
Maybe, just maybe, consider ok maybe
It’s not true
He wanted you to be just like you
She wanted to create something new
Then he’d have something to do
And company too.
Confusing  
Not really
Consider I’m God
Hard to, I know
But humor me
Consider I clone me
And every one of my honeyclones
Looks just like me
Too bee said to me
thinks just like me
walks just like me
talks just like me
loves and hates just like me
(must be a duck, what)
but mostly stings
just like me
You’d get bored very easily-
We all like the very same everything
We all had the very same good and bad day
We all wore our hair in the very same
Good and bad way  
Part to the left
Stay to the right-
You get the analogy.
We all ate the same thing for breakfast
How was your breakfast of champions dear
Same as yours, I fear.
We’re all incredible bores
And on that we all agreed
So she created diversity.

And that’s why I am something
To be the thing that God is not,
And that he can never bee.
And that can never bee
I am, also included in something that I am
And the something that I am not.
Now I think I’m going around in circles
like a mad logistion.
Not really a twirl
But something like that
More like a swirl
More like a girl
And you are not
And exactly like you
And I do
Because
(break cadence)
When
All the honeyclones crossed the bridge together
The bridge collapsed.
Oops
Bo Tansky Nov 2021
Yes, I wanted it to be
Flowery and sweet
Stars fell from Alabama
and all that
It could have been sweet
Sweetheart
I'm trying
So sorry
I'm this way
Whatever way
That makes you hate me so
I'm sorry
I'm such an idiot
I know
Why can't I just let things go?
Bo Tansky Aug 2019
Instant enlightenment
That is, is it
All a lie
Are you, am I
Dressed to the nines
In trendy design
With no place to go
And nothing to mind
You read it here first
For better or worst
A modern-day phenomenon
Packaged perfect to know
Just add water
You’re good to go
Generational gibberish view
Who spurned the denim devils
In you
Bluejean blueprints
Attached to the past  
Of patterns and hues
Sleeve Sloppy revealing
Dribble drool feeling
Seer suckered
Taube tuckered
Unrealing

Take your patchwork punch
Take my cameo role
Handheld scroll
Gently
Poked in a fire of woe
Battle wounded warrior
Drowning to
Federations of fear
Leagues of sometime,
Somewhere
Donuts of denigration
Looking through the whole
Of integration
On a scout mission
Wizards of wondering why
Epiphanies abound.
And in the morning light
Silence is the only sound around
Why wait to get it right?

Oh, preachy poser
Pedantically put
But please just shut-up
If you can’t walk the walk
Don’t talk the talk
  
Up a crazy lazy river
Without a paddle or clue-
And who
Like instant pudding, I do
Instant coffee, too
Instant cake in a cup,
Microwave ready
Brew

Fear I’ve left something out
And nothing will ever do
The instant never needs  
To make-up to something new
And you who
Instantly knew
  
Don’t believe the story.
It’s all a lie
Even if it’s true
Makes a good story
But none of it’s you
Story characters in drag
In a romance novel or two
Only love is real
Or so I’ve been told
Playing a part
That never gets old
Address the unaddressed
Storied mess
Behold

Shakespeare in a silk shirt
Romeo is such a flirt
Juliet’s without regret
And yet
While  
Lost in a speeding train of thought
Took the window seat I bought
Watching the living loving world
Pass by

And I
See waving at me
Michael with a golden sword
Protection from the lord.
Up high
How can this be?

Terrible, terrible low-down lying lizard
Am I
What of it?
Pop-ups  
Worse than infomercials
Role-playing rehearsals
Characters complaining
Insanely blaming
Always trying to please
Never at ease
Never understanding
But, I do
But I lie.
Commas go
Commas die
And
Always a busy but.

I know I should
But, I won’t
I know I could
But I don’t
So, go away with your stuck-up sail
It really is to no avail

Have you seen the broken bandage?
Wrapped around your battered finger
Bleeding
******* breaking
Bad blood oozing
From your packaged refusing
Never mind it was a nice story but was it true  
I never lied to you
I never lied to you
I never would
    
I conjured you
Like genie in a bottle of *****
Intoxicated by a vision of you
  
I know you aren’t doing well
Do tell
You won’t let anyone help
Don’t balk in blue
Think it true
Because you think you are
Only you
Because you are
Scared of what might be
Scared the story might be true
You could be me
Or I could be you  
  
Because the story and the storyteller are one
An Escher drawing
Drawing itself
In two
Two peas in a prissy pod
Pleasing

Have you reconciled your fiction?
Or is this an addiction
Affliction come true
  
Your magical silver moon swaying
Your chalice of still stars staying
Cups of fantasy flowing
Sun spraying days
Tiptoeing
Ways
Neither
Friend nor foe
I’ll never know

Remember the story  
Do you remember
I remember
Nothing’s changed
Tempestuous tweets
Trilling thoughts of verses sweet
For better or worse
If you follow me forever
I will follow you. +-
Forever
Feels like a tall story
It’s a leap of faith
Not a leap off a ten-foot story

Better wait till the morning
Light.
Bo Tansky Sep 2019
Down, down, down I went
Like Alice on the rebound
Perchance, said I
Down, down, down I wept
Like Lucy in the sky
NoTime to think about it
NoTime to ask why
Is there even a shred of love
Lost?
A LostLove  alibi
Quite honestly,
I’ve NoTime to cry
And if I’m being quite honest
Which I don’t know if I am
It was quite a rush, but hush
It wasn’t a wabbit I chased
Or a well into which I fell
But a feeling that I have never, ever felt
While tumbling down the back stairs
Out of a dream, it seems
I kept falling
Deeper and deeper  
I fell
Where and then and there
I thought
How unfamiliar
How dreamlike, it was
Then I paused in mid-flight
Waiting for a hammer to strike
We were so alike
Would I find
Would I find myself
On the shelf
Besides
A jar of disembodied hearts
Teetering on the high
Impossible to deny
Up there and then
a talking, out of character story
Perhaps the mad hatter
or simply mad as a hatter
am I
Which of course couldn’t be me, you see
I suppose it could be I?
Could be or not
Maybe my lie is a lie.
How much deeper could I fall
Where and then and there
Would I
How to know you know
How much deeper
Did the NotWell
go?

Go, go, go
Said I
Before I died.
Not sure my words
Like bad little soldiers
Complied.
Staying true to the moment
In time.
Means NoTime at all.
I may be the sanest person I know.
Yes, I believe that’s
True
Even if it’s a lie
If the shoe fits
I may have found my prince
(At the ball)
And it may not be
You.
After all.
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