I've Always Been a Poet, 'Though I Didn't Always Know It
Joshua S. Friedman
I’VE ALWAYS BEEN A POET,
‘THOUGH I DIDN’T ALWAYS KNOW IT
By
Joshua S. Friedman
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PUBLISHED BY:
I’ve Always Been a Poet, ‘Though I Didn’t Always Know It
Copyright © 2013 by Joshua S. Friedman
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Adult Reading Material
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For Jared
The only real poet I know
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I
THE PERENNIAL OPTIMIST
WE RIDE
So…
Ye think thee nobler men then we?
Ye think thee safe high in thy ivory towers?
Pish-posh!
I think thee protestith too much
For while you’ve been soiling yourselves in rubbish
Mine and my Cree have bathed in the crucibles of holy fire
We’ve been sharpening our blades and knocking our bows
Domesticating the local wild-life to the breast of our yoke
We do not simper away and cry
We do not die
We ride! We crush!
We ride! We crush! (Shh)
Ha-Za!
It seems there be spirit in you after all
We shall see how much lingers after the running through of long spears
Does’t the lion lay down with the antelope?
No, it devours its prey and leaves the pickings for ravenous scavenger birds
So too shall we strike’st at thy heart with voracious instinct
We too shall pick our mighty teeth with ye’r tiny insignificant bones
We plunder without mercy
We make the sun grow dim
We eat the brains of cannibals
And we ride on the hide of the wind
We ride! We crush!
We ride! We crush!
All right boys, let us show them how we crush
THE ONLY THING I KNOW FOR SURE
The only thing I know for sure is that I know absolutely nothing. But hell, 86% of the population doesn't know anything; 9 out of 17 people know this. At least, I know that I know nothing. Some people don't know they don't know anything.
I look around, I look around,
And I ponder where have all the role-models gone? Where have all the John Wayne's gone?
We're so concerned with our own crap. We call them problems. But they're just privileges. I've seen real problems. And I count my lucky stars that I have none.
Some say, ignorance is bliss.
But I say ignorance is a way for the surreptitious to take that which they have not earned.
I'm reminded of when thieves were alleviated of their sinful appendages. Now, I see a time where some need to steal just to survive.
Is that right? Is anything we know ever been right?
I've read of when, each season, Babylonian women sacrificed a man by burning him alive. According to history, such practices were performed to appease the gods and yield good crops. Apparently a matriarchal society is as ruthless as our traditional patriarchs. Perhaps, more so. In Africa, most of the females of each species are bigger than the males. This is so the males don't eat the young. Except, instead of an adult predator trimming the weak from the herd, mammoth females kill other matured adults and feed the spoils to their young.
Which is worse?
Does it matter?
I've read of a time, where, if you hurt, trimmed, or chopped down a tree (without permission from the gods), Pagans carved out your naval, nailed it the offended conifer, and forced you to circumnavigate the trunk until all your intestines firmly wrapped around the bark.
Imagine if we lived back then.
There'd be no paper; among many other things.
Do I wish we still lived in a matriarchal society?
I don't know I'm just glad we're not sacrificing people to phony-baloney gods in the hopes of a prolific harvest.
Do I wish we still lived in a time where defacing Mother Nature was a capital offense?
I don't know, but it would sure be great if we stopped ravaging our own natural resources in the name of progress.
What progress?
What have we really achieved in the last thirty years? Century?
Most people seem so sure that the world will end any day now. Y2K. SARS. 12/21/12. What a joke that was. People, the Mayans never said that was when the Rapture would happen. That's just when they stopped calendaring. And the Mayan calendar was based on a ten-month-scale, not twelve; meaning the end-of-days would have happened well-before 12/21/12.
Still, we plod on.
Now, pundits say that things in the Middle East are escalating just as things did back in August of 1914; right before WW1
Day-by-day, things get worse.
Zealots proclaim the impending return of the One True Savior.
Atheists say, "Naw, don't worry about. Such is the way of things."
Are we tottering on the precipice of Doomsday?
Or, will the night grow incipiently darker before a long-awaited dawn?
I don't know.
But at least, I know that I don't know.
And I thank God for that.
CHAKRAS
Feel the movements
Current, nature
Down to roots
Earth and liquid
All is one
All is nature
Feel the spiral
Feel and capture
To the heavens
To the end
The road at hand has turned up-end
Heat, movement, pulse
Ultra-violent, ultra sense
One with all, this mantra blessed
Time stands still
Time is fast
The season’s clock
Charts the map
The road is hard
The road is long
But all straight paths shall lead to one
Between the schism
And under shell
Follow your heart
You shall not fail
Feel, live, sense
The sun god loves his occupants
As mother shines her smile dear
Without change, no life stirs here
Flow
Steady
Constant stream
Grounded force and centered means
All that exists shall transcend
Into the heavens
Into the end
To join it all
And live again
LETTERS AT 3 AM
You once gave me a book to read
Said, you saw it and it was me
I gave it a whirl
But I couldn’t keep my promise
That I would
Stay away from her
So far, so good
But, for how long?
Little by little
Unraveled
You tug at the strings
As I pull away
You mocked and goaded me
Said it the best thing for me
Who knew the worst was yet to come?
I promised I’d stay sober
But I knew all
that was over
When I found the note on my front door
It read, “You call yourself my friend,
“But what do you really know of it?
“I turn around and you’re never there.”
Oh, I chased after you
This is our love song
Looking back, I know I got it all wrong
What do you expect to hear from me?
That I ain’t already said
I walk in the door
And I’m filled with dread
I know that I should be sorry
I know that I got it wrong
I’m all fucked up
But I’m getting strong
When you said you were leaving
I begged and I pleaded
But I never once asked you to stay
It’s getting late in the morning
And this story’s boring
But I keep coming back
Again and again
To words, printed ink-jet
You hadn’t the heart just to write it
I’m confused
And my mind is torn
My heart’s palpitating
In mode self-loathing, hating
I found a note pinned to my door
It read, “You think nothing of me,
“So, I’m absconding,
“Never again
“Are you welcome here
“You chose her over me
“And ‘though you at my wedding
“I thought you far better than that
“But what do you really know of it?
“I turn around and you’re never there.”
Oh, I chased after you
This is our love song
Looking back, I know I got it all wrong
What do you expect to hear from me?
That I ain’t already said
I walk in the door
And my heart stops dead
Yes, it’s been a while
But we can still work it out
I’m all fucked up
But still not checking out
Oh, I chased after you
This is our love song
Looking back, I know I got it all wrong
Yes, I chose her over you
But you don’t really care
‘Cause we’re not friends anymore
You chastised and scolded me
What more do you expect to hear from me?
When I’ve been forgiven by
Everyone else
In liquor sinking
My breath is weakening
I pull out a note
Faded and torn
Malignancy worsening
Yet, my heart is yearning
To settle un-settled scores
The page read, “You call yourself my friend,”
But what do you really know of it?
I turn around and you’re never there?”
Oh, I chased after you
This is our love song
Looking back, I know I got it all wrong
What do you expect to hear from me?
That I ain’t already said
I walk in the door
And I’m filled with dread
I know that I should be sorry
I know that I got it wrong
I’m all fucked up
But I’m getting strong
Am I stained, am I frayed?
Why don’t you just stay away?
You keep coming back
Well, what have you learned?
Am I cursed, a puppet?
Put me in my place
I can’t forget
The daggers in your ink hurt more than words
Still you refuse to speak
What do you expect to hear from me?
That I ain’t already said
You walk in the door
And I’m filled with dread
I know that I should be sorry
I know that I got it wrong
It’s so fucked up
But, this is our song
SUCH A FINE EVENING FOR DINING OUTDOORS
The moment is twilight
Skies purple and orange
Such a fine evening
For dining outdoors
A crease in the tail-hitch
A creak in the door
She’s cooking up porridge
Sepia toned
I take a whiff
And it takes me back
To fading days
Rusty hooks, laundry clips
Tumble weeds graze
Over desolate plains
This is the hand that I’ve been dealt
Abandoned dirt streets
Plank-covered fissures
Dandelions weep
Barren wood sheds
The skulls our fathers heap
Mining through salt-stone
In unrelenting heat
But this is our lot
Lest we like it or not
Time, it goes by
The seasons they keep
Such a fine record
Of all that we reap
And in a moment
An instant does flash
In one you’re born
Another you’re ash
The pyre in my soul
I kindle and keep
A constant watch-guard
‘Gainst ubiquitous sleep
‘Fore it’s such a fine evening
For dining outdoors
Mmmm-Mmm-Mm-Mmmmmmm
The compass turns rusty
Corroded with age
Decrepit, un-trusty
We stray on our own way
And soon the road forkens
This or that way
Either path chosen
Ends up the same
Come Hell or high it’s such a fine night
For dining outdoors
My last breath spoken
Uttered in rage
Already forgotten
Already regretted
My journey’s over, here do I lay
My spirit pass over desolate plains
Time washes over decaying remains
The moment is twilight
Skies sepia toned
She’s cooking up porridge
T’is such a fine evening
For dining outdoors
A crease in the tail-hitch
A creak in the door
T’is such a fine evening for dying outdoors
IN DREAMS
Come here my child and I shall tell you a tale
I’ve been noticing lately you’ve gotten quite pale
And your eyes are black, darkened with rings
Are you having trouble sleeping?
Tell me your dreams
I remember a time when I was about just your age
And my father told me the same thing I’m saying
I was having the same plight
Of that you must know
When you’re alone in the dark, and things seethe and grow
It’s a demon, a wraith, an apparition unseen
It comes as a nightmare, plaguing your dreams
With cold hands upon you this phantom does thrive
It feasts on your terror
This thing is alive
And my father told me the same thing I’m saying
Just call me in dreams and fast I’ll come runnin’
But how can I call you?
I asked in a stutter
If I am asleep, ensconced deep in horror
Just call out in dreams
Call out like your screaming
Just call my name out
And no matter what dream I’m having
Believe me, I’ll hear ya
I will, I chirped merrily
Then hopped off to bed
To be tucked in by mother
Who kissed me gently on the forehead
I awoke in my dreams
It was Saturday morning
There was no one about
I inched into the hall, across just the way
From a shadowy bathroom doorway
Where a creature did linger
To steal me away
I shrieked and ran down the stairs and into the kitchen
All the while the monster gave chase
I called out his name
And as good as his promise, my father then came
He battled the beastie he came to engage
They wrestled and fought
Vanishing into a darkened archway
Then only my father remained
I awoke the next morning in such splendor, such glee
Then never again was I terrorized
By such ghastly nightmarish beings
So the very next time should your dreams cloud in fear
Just call out my name
And in dreams I’ll appear
Under my watch no monsters shall bite
I love you my child
Now, good night and sleep tight
THE MARINER
The wind cools my sun-tanned face
Ocean blue surrounds me
Hoist the sails and pull up anchor
The tides and waves will guide us
Hands calloused rough from rope burns
Sea-salt in my veins
I journey on in wonder
Across aquatic planes
What is this before me?
Yonder rolling waves
I go against the current
Spit in Neptune’s face
I tempt the fates with mutiny
Here comes the albatross
The clouds loom on in anger
So falls the albatross
The waves they thunder and roll
The ship has lost all control
We’re heading straight for the storm
Capsizing
The gales they billow and blow
The anchor’s broke like a bone
The storm has taken its toll
Capsizing
The sails, they tangle and rip
Against wind like a whip
Men have jumped in, adrift
Capsizing
Submersed deep in the cold
The seas have swallowed me whole
No breath, my lungs burn like coal
Capsizing
Capsizing
Poseidon settles to slumber
