PATRIOT Poetry with a streak of random thoughts. 8.17.17


PATRIOT

So proud you stand, you patriot
So proud above the cast iron statute
Of Robert E Lee astride his horse
You think you are creating Camelot
And you shouted with glee
As the statute fell down past the aged tree
That had shaded it, protected it, been there
In snow and storm until you arrived, you patriot
And you stomped on his face, you patriot
You stomped on his face like some superior
You stomped on his face and shouted with raised arms
For you are a patriot and set about to free us from our history
Set about to destroy our history and our freedoms because
You are a patriot.
No, you are a coward.
You are scum.

 

Copyright © 2017 Gordon Kuhn All rights reserved.

Puppy in the River and Random thoughts on 8.15.2017


PUPPY IN THE RIVER

I believe I was ten years old and out riding on my bike on a warm summer’s day. As was my custom, I stopped at the bridge on Madison Street in Maywood overlooking the muddy, trash filled, and sluggish Des Plaines River. It was one of my favorite spots for daydreaming, but on that day my favorite place turned into a nightmare that still haunts me to this day.

As traffic went past behind me on four lanes of hot asphalt, I would stand and wonder about the first to view the river when it was clean and pure. I thought about the explorers who would trace the river to its beginnings when you could reach and cup your hands and take a drink of such refreshing waters that, by the time I stood there, had become dangerously polluted. It was only a foot deep at the middle, if that. What once had been a proud river had been destroyed by industry and polluters all along the wandering stretch that once had been so pristine.

I hated looking down at the shallow path of water that flowed 30 feet below me filled with junk and stink. But it was natural to peer over the concrete rail and down to the slop and slime and, on that day, as I peered over the edge there in the water was the body of a puppy floating upside down, its stomach bloated, white fur with streaks of green, its head was held by a rope tied to a brick.

The Puppy in the River

Subliminal thoughts of deep despair,
Beneath the Des Plaines surface there;
Shallow waters ran cold and dark,
Did silence the puppy’s plaintive bark.
A toss, a throw, from bridge above
to water flowing not far below;
A brick about the neck,
a final gift they did bestow.
And I, a child, beheld the horrid sight,
Before the dawn had turned to night,
Before the darkness settled in,
Leaving memories to haunt from deep within.
Curse me, bless me, dear god please defend me!
Take this memory from my sight,
remove the evil that I see.
A puppy in a river drowned—
And I, with it, am forever bound.

Copyright Gordon Kuhn, All rights reserved. 9/18/2013

truth slain and random thoughts over ice cream 8.14.17


Truth Slain on a TV Stand

The morning bell was met head-on
And each child followed the trail as winter won
To where truth then was set upon and promptly slain
For sadly truth had gathered thinking it safe
As if fearing safety it mattered simply not
The rot that had grown up in Webster’s lot
While all about the dreamer’s world came that
A web of cotton thread all wound about
That hid the learned from the learning there
With great gashes to the bone through grisly hair
I watched as torment swept up the path
To claim that which was left of the day
Coiled in self-incriminating powered doubt
For none was there with whom to share
And none was there to take the classic dare
But, instead, the gentle waves of sympathy rose
To climb aboard the train of memories
Before the closing bell had rung and
Students filled with nonsense about the world around
Ran home to watch Kukla, Fran, and Ollie
On the small black and white TV screen
That had come to land in a place of pride
An altar of electronic marvel to stun the world
The twisting movement about of rabbit ears
The frantic swirling the antenna about
In hopes to get the camera shot
Before the ending of the show
In search of the spot, the spot, the spot to find
To make the frazzled snow look more real
Where Lucy, Desi, Ethel and Fred would be
Along with an accordion player had earlier graced the day
Making life appear as easy without pain or torment
They lied, the lied, they spun and twisted the thin posts
And they lied, they lied, while we ate cold beans in a pouring rain
While children we ate Tomato Soup with thick buttered white bread
Prophesied to help us in at least 8 ways
Enriched (we found was putting back that removed) for us
Only to be told so many years later that
White bread will kill you as it brings on the fat
And that Lucy and Dezi, Ethel and Fred
Didn’t get along, but we never knew and so
We twisted those damn antennas round and round
Until we found the spot, the spot, the damned spot
And certain ghost like creatures appeared in scattered form
Focused on the glass screen as if the world was somehow going right
While war was off in a foreign land
And so we searched for the spot, the spot, the spot. 8.13.2017

Clouds in your Eyes & Random Thoughts 0821/8.5.17


Clouds in Your Eyes

by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 8.5.17 all rights reserved

I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
Clouds where none should ever be
Like murky cream in your cold cup of coffee there
I see clouds in your eyes, clouds in your eyes
Clouds that should never be there
And I think there is even a tear, a small tear hiding there
There where none should also never be.

It was just a chance thing meeting up with you
Years back at a truck stop late one rainy night
No reason for that to ever happen, never
Unplanned event and unplanned conversation
Unless fate was there with me and you
For truly you showed up out of the blue
And sat and told me lies while you drank coffee with me
Just like we used to do, like we used to do
And sat and told me lies while we drank cold coffee together
Just like we used to do when we smiled at each other
And nowhere did I think I’d ever again see that smile
That smile that was also so quick and free.

But I see clouds in your eyes, clouds there in your eyes
The same as when a friend once set you free
But that was a long time back to then
When life had set us all in a tragic spin
And you fell from a relationship that brought tears to your eyes
And I hoped that none would ever again be there for anyone to see

I know you are with another
A friend who was once like a brother
But no where in the world did I ever expect
to have our friendship end in pure neglect

But I see the clouds in your eyes
Where none should ever be
I see clouds in your eyes
And I think I see a tear
Where none should also never be
In a truck stop so very long ago

And I would have stood and hugged you long and hard
But the distance between us more that I could reach past
And so I just let it be with a handshake and a “I gotta go.”
So I will go and let the past be the past and hope the feeling inside will last
But there were clouds in your eyes, clouds in you eyes
And a very tiny tear.

Beer Cans on the Counter and Random Thoughts at 0436 08.03.17


Just woke and fixed a salad made up of cucumber, sweet onion, tomato, and Caesar dressing. Love it. Thinking of writing a play. Wish I had the talent. Don’t think that I do. In the meantime I look at my family history and think of all the rich material there and believe it is sad to let the story not be told. I look at life and see mistakes, countless mistakes, and a tragedy that should never have occurred and wonder just how to handle it. I wonder if it should be told and does it really matter. I don’t know. Really. I don’t know. I just see this pile of shit (can I say that?) and wonder about it all. I wonder who would it matter to except for myself?

==========================================================

Once
a poem by Gordon Kuhn Copyright 08.03.17

I was young once and lived all alone.
Each night I sat drunk in the dark
And listened to the neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a royal fuck.

My nightly dinner a plate of fresh boiled spaghetti,
The sauce a greasy mix of fried bacon with sweet onion
My drink a tepid six pack of cheap bought beer
The couch before the tv was my throne
And drunk I had not a drop of respectability
As I staggered about in my individuality
Inside the one bedroom apartment
Lost in a world without companionship
Lost without counsel, without guidance
And faced life confused and all alone.

Beer cans setting on the counter
One rolled up under the recliner rocker
Neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck
Simply leave me alone, all alone
Its how I want to live, all alone
Being young once and eating a dinner of spaghetti
Its sauce fried bacon and onion on top a greasy mix
Washed down by a six pack of Old Milwaukee
I could not afford a better fare.

Beer cans setting on the counter
My body asleep on the floor
Alcoholism was the bed time Teddy Bear
Beside the bed near the door
Where I could see the beer can under the rocker
The neighbors screaming, fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who gives a fuck.

Beer cans setting on the counter
The neighbors fighting down the street
He said, she said, oh who really gives a fuck.

Poem Dismantled by Love & Random Thoughts 8.2.17


Dismantled by Love

By Gordon Kuhn Copyright 1/9/2017

She came softly
Easily to his bed was led
And he found himself—suddenly dismantled
Unexpected the world spinning about his head
As if enjoying a first time cup of rich Turkish Coffee
Followed by a sip of mint liqueur that was fed
From the tip of his lover’s tongue warm red
That sought his mouth out amid a smile of rapture deep
To share as did they while the world disappeared forgotten
While within tousled sheets the pair gamboled
And he surrendered to her charms thus, so gently wed.              1/9/2017

The agony of love touches one and all in our lives here. Perhaps that is what God was thinking at the separation of man from the eternal flame and that is what we most seek in a variety of ways. We were once united in a whole framework but chose to be separate and distinct and now we are facing the dissimilarities brought upon by that determination to experience emotions as one single voice. It makes me think of the concept of the Borg. All thoughts together, linked as one, and now  we are separate. Like with the Borg, perhaps in the end resistance is futile, but right now what I want is a cheeseburger and fries. Fries! I cannot find any good fries anymore unless I go to McDonalds. And that is a fact. GK 1327/08.02.17

 

 

Poem: Heartbeat at Night /// 8.1.17 A


Heartbeat at Night




by Gordon Kuhn
Copyright 8.1.2017 all rights reserved.

I stand alone in the steamy dark
Listening to the sound my heart beat makes all alone
and the other voices there never reply
no matter how I call out their names and I fight and try
to hear a voice, a single voice,  come to me from out of the sky
For I am all alone in the steamy night
I speak to the dusk surrounding and there is no response
My words echo back so lonely in the night
I speak to the darkness surrounding and there is no response
for living ghosts never show themselves in séance
at least none that I have ever found
and their voices never reply, and they, should they try?
to be so earthly bred and bound a monument to the living
no matter how much I speak and try and I cannot make it by
listening for a single voice to be found, just one to speak to me
as I stand all alone in the night, the steamy night and am so alone
to hear a voice come out from the sky, to simply reach me before I die
from those there standing so clearly in my sight

Random Thoughts 08.01.2017


And so, the day has gone
and took the hopes that once lived there
leaving me lost and empty, oh so empty
while images of anger roll in
like the waves from a troubled sea
and try as I may, the pain holds the day
as I sink ever lower each moment
looking back at the damage done
and wonder where the day has gone.

Poetry and Random Thoughts 073017/0608


There is a difference, I think, from the common to the uncommon. Yet, in many cases they appear side by side as twins. Just a subtle difference here or there can determine the difference that you and I cannot perceive on the surface. But isn’t that the problem? Isn’t it how we perceive what we consider to be4 reality?

I have, since early childhood, wondered how you and I see color. A teacher points at a chart and says, “That is blue.” Really? Think about this for a moment. The teacher has an assigned role to play and relies upon her belief and understanding of common versus uncommon. And yet, how do we know if her understanding is correct?

If she says that the object she is pointing to is blue you record that in your mind as being blue. But what if her perception of blue is more tinted with green in your mind. So every time you look at item that in your mind has green in it or perceive it as such then when called upon to point at blue in a test you we pointing at something which in your mind is blue and yet in reality is blue-green  to her but she perceives it as blue because she sees everything put before her as blue being blue and yet her mind approaches the color she sees as being blue-green.

I mean, seriously, how can we come to the belief that what you see versus what I see is actually correct.

In another example, I just fell asleep while sitting here and dreamt I was at a seminar. The hotel that we were staying at was very nice and had a very large swimming pool. Everyone was swimming and so I decided to join in. I just now realized that I was the only one in the swimming pool that was naked but neither I nor anyone else recognized that fact until in my mind I just now realized that I was naked. The reason is because I remembered that in my dream I did not have any swimming suit with me. But in my mistaken reality I and everyone there had a swimming suit on. So, if by chance, you happen to go swimming the question then becomes are you wearing a swimming suit or are you naked.

So, I guess, the real question is quite simply: what is reality?

 

 

New Car and Other Random Thoughts


Have a new used car. Jumped into a 2016 Honda Odyssey EX-L. White with light interior. Sliding doors on the side and a power rear door. It has all the bells and whistles.  It has a camera on the right side for making turns and the first time it came on I thought I had lost part of the car as I didn’t know it was there. Fast. Smooth. Not like the 2007 Chevy. PU truck that was my love and I planned on being buried in it. Alas, not to be. Too hard a ride to go to GA and other places and besides Tread, the German Shepard service dog was miserable and getting rebellious about getting in and out of the truck. Suzie, the Great Pyrenees had no problem. She was a love and I miss her and her brother, Sergio, and Tifton the little brown dog we found one Labor Day weekend driving through Tifton County in GA.