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Teaching high school kids the craft
Directing them in their school show
Teenagers singing just off key
With a band that's one beat slow
Holding rehearsals when the gym is free
Have you really sunk this low
Are you truly at your bottom
Or are you "Waiting for Godot"?

"YOU'RE ON IN FIFTEEN MINUTES...MR. WILSON"

Doing plays in local theater groups
With untrained  amateurs on stage
You tell them all your stories
And you keep them on their page
It's not exactly where you started
Talent that you just can't gauge
Selling programs in the lobby
It's time you act your age

"TEN MINUTES TILL SHOWTIME MR. WILSON"

Touring shows around the country now
Second touring group, smaller towns
Doing revival shows of Sondheim
"Sweeney Todd " and "Send in the clowns"
Living out of an old suitcase
The countryside a sea of browns
Where you are at the local's mercy
And there's less ups than there are downs

"FIVE MINUTES TO SHOW TIME MR. WILSON"

You've made it, you're on Broadway
Starring roles are yours to choose
Where the highlights of last nights show
Are in today's reviews
Where a sold out run continues
And your name is in the news
You're an actor, and you're famous
The world is yours to lose

"SHOW TIME MR.. WILSON...ON STAGE PLEASE"

The kids are out there schlepping
working their way through the *****
singing songs sung by the Beatles
"All This and World War II"
You're just a pillar standing, sweating
As you see what you can do
You're still an actor, and you know it
You'll need a drink when this is through.
(The Greater Prairie Chicken: a grouse of open grassland, is known for its mating dance. Males display together in a communal lek, where they raise ear-like feathers above their heads, inflate orange sacs on the sides of their throats, and stutter-step around while making a deep hooting moan.)

So how you gonna keep ‘em
Down on the farm after they’d seen Paree?
After “displaying together” in
Their own private lek--
Communal though it was.
It’s May in Hemetucky.
I just got back from my
Twilight constitutional,
As Truman called it.
Harry—since I was born in 1949—
Tribute for my first Commander-in-Chief.
The moon was misted,
More than half full,
Myself half in the bag,
As they say.

As you know by know,
I live in one of those gated,
Golf-coursed, over-55
Lunatic Asylums,
A communal lek, as they say.
I’m stutter schlepping around the block
In my pajamas remembering that big sign,
So full of promise--ACTIVE SENIORS—
A veritable sexually promiscuous
Welcome Mat.
I made an assumption, you see,
That children of the 60s grown old
Would relish a life of legal **** in a
Gated sanctuary with hours upon hours of
“Let’s Hide the Pepperoni.”

I knew I missed those years,
That era of bra-burning &
Birth Control.
“*******,”
Wonton ******* & *******,
A bowl of Won-Ton carnality:
Wild abandon, mature ladies,
Their ******* in a ***,
At the bottom of their purse,
(Thank you, Joan Osborne)


Joan Osborne - Right Hand Man Lyrics | MetroLyrics
http://www.metrolyrics.com/right-hand-man-lyrics-joan-osborne.htmlLyrics to 'Right Hand Man' by Joan Osborne. Let me use your toothbrush / Have you got a clean shirt? / My ******* in a *** /at the bottom of my purse / I walk. (www.advertise/right-in-the-middle-of-*******-poem.com)

Yet, I languish here
Here in the now,
Having shown my cards too often.
After 10 years here no woman
Takes me seriously,
Given my unserious reputation,
Not to be taken seriously.
Which explains why I spend
So much of my time in Italy
Lately.
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay
cuz, earlier this July forth
     two thousand eighteen ja way
windows closed, doors locked, and

     car keys visibly splayed
     on driver seat oye vay
feel free to call me a horse's *** today
utter anxiety compounded,

     plus unable to locate master key,
     thence fodder for poem and more to say
rifling thru boxes without success,
     an impulse arose to call road

     upon learning policy
     doth include locksmith service,
     ah felt less doggone snappish,
     and uttered hoo ray

though modest aye,
     congratulated awesome,
     fulsome, and handsome
     self on quick thinking,

and automatically became less tiresome
     pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason
     (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay
then immediate decided,

     sans ditto explanation,
     but no how and nay
yet honest to dog suddenly felt
     like a young lovestruck lad

     during month of May
and without further delay
a compulsion arose
to putter along, though

     momentarily gazing heavenward
     and counting (just beak caws)
     glistening black crows
plus painfully aware

     a spike in recurrent
     "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows,
thus starkly aware significant rustiness
     increasingly, frightfully,

     and chokingly coats
     lix spit tillage harrows
resuming schlepping dishabille
     crotchety bedeviled aching

     body electric irksome
with fringe benefit (such as
     momentary lapse of reason)
     quite aware mettlesome

ness of youth nonrefundable,
     non-reliable, and non-retrievable,
     and guaranteed continued
     pricking, viz nettlesome

degenerating aging telomeres,
     sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes
leaving a once robust person some
what discombobulated
     and easily toilsome.
Shane Hunt Sep 2012
I sold smack on a playground today

    biding time to scrounge the rent--

Two months ago I had never even seen the stuff.
    I'd never procured it for personal use,
    let alone sold it.

Now I'm a full-time pusher of prescriptions
for problems that can't be cured,
a modern-day snake-oil salesmen
schlepping panaceas for every conceivable ill.

Trying to cope with depression?
    This'll give you a shot in the arm!
Your boyfriend just broke your heart
mere weeks after breaking your *****?
    Here's a ***** that you can depend on
...

I thought I was better than this,

but who can afford scruples
                      with bills to pay?

Internally
I struggle to compete
with people who would never deign to take note of me.
My revenge is in undermining their immaculate lives,
a pill-peddling Socrates
keeping creditors at bay.

I'd always envisioned being someone's hero--
at least being remembered for an act of creation.

Instead I'm an enzyme for eradication.
A cancer cell at best--
    A ****** wrecking ball.

                 One day I woke up a sidekick
to a heroine that's never saved anyone...
The ascender
struggled to the dais
stopping to rub
his sore calves
still filled with lactic acid…

“I forsook the post
workout massage
to deliver this eulogy.

Thats how
important it is
to me…”

His voice began
to trial off but
he regained his
composure and
began to speak
with command...

“He gave his life for me.
Is there no greater love
than to offer a life
in service
to me?

My Sherpa
was moved
and motivated
by economic
compulsion.

I offered him
the only wage
paying job
he ever had.

He ran with it,
taking up my
cause as if
it belonged
to him;
performing
his job
as if engaged
in a heroic
mission.

At times it
he seemed
consumed by
the largess of
my pursuit;
and his death
will bring
economic
calamity
to his family.

This further
confirms
the nobility
of my
mission.

The price
of intrepidness
is dear and
made clear,
its value
fully fleshed
out in the
sacrifice of
my Sherpa.

You may ask,
“why do I do it?”

It is no longer
disputed, if it
can be done.

Sir Edmund
and his Sherpa
answered that
question over half
a century ago.

The only
question
remaining,
"can the mountain
be conquered by me?"

I'll risk sacred fortune,
limb, life, family and
Sherpa to discover
the answer to this...

I must guard
against the
inflation of
my desire to
summit at
any cost.

I'm aware
of the
dangers
presented
by the
expanding
circumference
of my pride,
just a
meager
centimeter or
two can spell
disaster for
me.

Yet testing
its tensility,
tempting
the tipping point
of temerity,
managing the
permeability,
of risk factors
and psychical
rewards to
sift through
the membrane
that calculates
the odds to
successfully
arbitrage the
resolution of
gaming
winners and
losers,
achieving
a perfect balance
manifested in
the mettle
of me.

My
determination
shines
in pursuit
of a
golden fleece.

In my
solitary
quest
I don a
holy halo
crowning me
and fellow
climbers
stricken
with a like
obsession,
sets us apart,
anointing us
the royalty
of high stakes
X Games,
bellying
up 70 grand
to claim our
place in an
extreme
leisure class,
gifted
with time
and treasure
to turn this
unforgiving peak
into a graveyard,
a dump heap,
an open latrine…

The glaciers bleed
my **** into the tributaries
of the Holy Ganges...

My virtues
made plain
in the indelible
mark I leave
upon the mountain...

My life dedicated
to the unselfish pursuit
of a magnanimous me
quick to forgive
and forget the
failures of the
lesser who
lack the ability
and conviction
of self
to conquer
the highest peaks
meeting challenge
and opportunity
with relish and
fortitude

I'm like a
strip miner
singlemindedly
tearing the roof
of the world open
so I can fill it
with the purpose
of me.

That is the
deeper significance
of the death of my
Sherpa.

When Edmund Hillary
and his Sherpa scaled
Everest 60 years ago,
it took decades
to remember that
Tenzing Norgay
guided the beknighted
Hillery, while schlepping
his baggage and
holding the ladder
lifting the
great man
in a great
endeavor;
whose strength
and valiance
turns history’s
creaky wheel.

Sir Hillary did it
because it was
never done before;
with stoutheartedness
and national vigor
Sir Hillary conquered
the last pinnacle
in Britannia's majestic
range of storied
achievements.

As climate change
turns glaciers
into slush,
my time
grows short
to scratch my
initials alongside
the greats who
ascended this mount
before me.

So it is
with well
considered
trepidation that
I send my Sherpa
out onto the
hanging peaks,
to set the ladders
and clear the
path for
the assent
of me.

Every morning
I look into
the mirror
glimpsing
a fleeting
notion of
greatness
that is only
affirmed by
triumph of
the will.

At such a cost
my legend is born
my burden
grows greater,
weighted by
the death of
my Sherpa.

Yet my resolve
grows, eclipsing
the size of
Warren Buffett’s
fortune.

As the world warms
urgency grows,
the alarm sounds!

Onward Sherpas!

Lay the ladder
portage my baggage
the labors of Sisyphus
will find reward
of a goodly outcome!

I press the coin
of the realm into
your hand

The prayer flags
fill with determination
that I succeed,
giving your life meaning
as divine compensation
for the cost of your life.

The prayer flag’s flap
with the mountain squalls
popping, snapping
our hosannas
of victory

Onward Sherpas!

Ever Onward
may the good
Buddha
embrace
you as you
climb toward
your next
destination...

Onward Sherpas!

Music Selection
Sherpa Dance Music

Poem dedicated to the 13 Sherpa climbers
who lost their lives this week on Mount Everest.
May they find peace in heaven
may their families find peace and
sustenance here on earth.

Oakland
4/23/14
jbm
this is a satirical poem, it is not meant to denigrate Sherpas, nor slight the enormity of the the loss of 13 Sherpa Guides on the mountain this week... its a piece that targets the destructive egocentric tourism of the climbers and its impact on the people and ecology of Mt. Everest... my best thoughts and prayers go out to the families and friends who were lost.... may we examine our motivations and impact the pursuit of personal goals has on the lives of others and the natural environment in which we live....
JoJo Nguyen Feb 2013
There's a Tale of hare
named Bugs, wisecracking
Brooklyn speedster
who raced against
a Tortoise green.

Mercedes grey speeding
along, distancing
a schlepping spect,
a North Face jacket
on fruitcake's trek.

4000 fast
and sleek.
8 slow
and green.

Neither racers strangely
notice that child
born on dented stripes,
warning bumps
by side road way.

Is life a sacred race?
Marriage sacrament
a finishing face?
Dying memories trace
a cove and net
lacing U and who?

What's up Doc?
Eating healthy,
eating carrots?
I hear your voice
who's love does bare.

False Saffron leiter  
extort and retorts weiter!
Komisch verwaltung
Schwartz holzteer
baiting babies to finish fear.

A cartoon film
skipping and tear
telling a child's tale
reel ending here.

— The End —