David Michael Jackson POEM TO MINDY
and there she is
my cat
she demands that my hands
touch her fur and
she demands my
total
attention
she knows she’s the only cat
that matters
that ever mattered.
She knows the cats of Egypt
I sometimes think she was there herself and added that
unknown quality to
the reliefs in the temple walls, for
she is the only cat that ever mattered as she wimpers that
demanding little
raorw
***
It’s Too Late Tonight
David Michael Jackson
It’s too late tonight
for the bleeding hearts
or the burning stomachs
it’s too late for the cries
of the hungry
for the
shit
to late for the shit
the shit will have to wait
for the boardrooms tomorrow
for the business
decisions
the shit will have to wait for executive decisions
because it’s too late
for the shit
tonight
it’s too late tonight for
compromise, for
reason
but
it’s early enough for hope
but
it’s early enough to try
anyway
will you try with me
says Mr. Rogers
will you try with me
for peace
***
DRIVING PAIN
I drive the streets in the rain and
wonder if the neck will hurt if
I write tonight
Pain is as necessary as the rain
as anger
as sorrow
as joy
I bare my mammal lips back over my mammal
teeth and bear it like the last wolverine
or that final wild grizzly
I raise upon my haunches and I snarl at
the approaching hunter
he won’t take me easily
***
what, then
fame or peace?
Which is it?
When the music flows like the sunrise settles
upon the horizon, like the
wind itself
settles upon the
contours of the
windows into
the soul
itself, or
into the poem
of hope itself,
yes, the embodiment of hope within the music,
within the music, the embodiment of the
music, the
soul, the visual,
the
art,
at least
tries,
at least
settles into the trickle
of a small stream
somewhere
making
almost silent
peace.
by David Michael Jackson
***
MOMENTARY FLICKER
the inner soul has to be in there saying
both what’s the point
and there has to be a point
we are in a situation which
seems to
be so temporary
so momentary
our lives seem so like the flicker of a candle
we stare into a universe where
billions of years
have passed and
will
pass again
how fleeting we are
like fireworks we
are
red and blue and yellow flashes in the night we
are
as meaningless to the ages as
a single stone in the river
and yet
we still sing and paint and write and act
and hold our face to the wind and hope
wow!
***
too late and I already did it
too late for the roses
too late
for the show
oh yes too many words for the
joker
and no pointy hat
no multicolored vest for the
clown with his smile painted on
no free will
except for the
interpretation
and you there
you with your dreams of
multicolored flowers leading
up to
leading into
nothing other than
hope,
you there can take the measure of your dreams
in beauty itself
and hold your head
up
high
***