This is my father’s birthday, now buried in the Mount Calvary Cemetery. Lost in prayer and thought having flash backs of a father never being there, mostly never here.
Abandoned by his day-care giver (his wife), after abandoning him and the children, he was unable to deal with it alone. Sending the children to relatives.
1950’s Las Vegas Divorce **
“Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning.” Henry Miller
Sitting on the fire escape
he was waiting for you to save him.
He wallowed in his inability to leave.
Cheap hotel: bed without bedposts, no complimentary soap.
Should he sit tight waiting for you?
To work out problems never explained
between love, residence, and a person that only pays rent?
All he was asking from her,
is to save the last dance for him. For love, affection,
and a future without dereliction.
“Gosh, that is a nice dress.
Bright red with sequins and plunging neckline.
You never have gone out with me, looking like that.
Yes, I know it’s new.
To wear when the night has no moon.
To walk the cross walks under streetlights
glittering with nightly specials on your low cut- menu.
Stopping anyone who has only one feeling—
to admire your attire and everything that is underneath;
soft, round, moist, short skirt’s unrelenting heat.
It was me.”
Wielding a face like an axe,
he silenced any objection to negative gestures of guilt,
into words, into conjecture, into blame.
The truth as he experienced it.
Another act to repeat itself in disaster—
having to search in the clutter of useless feelings.
Like her first set of headlights, windows rolled down;
to her last trick— running on empty, but, never gently.
Cheap hotel, bed without bedposts;
stench of stale cigarettes and after shave floating
Politics has grounded up the idea that the ignorant can become morons without learning un-biased information, even when their lives are in chaos, it comes to them through a Piper’s flute, jumping off the cliff of the true principles they all believe in… whether PhD., GED, home school, or on the job, life and work experience. They have nested termites under the floor of our Great Experiment. Good grief!
Then, there are the American Patriots, rarely ever accepting a label other than they are Americans and believe in the same things all Americans agree on, and pledge Allegiance to our Constitution; without embellishment. They believe in the equality of our neighbor that makes a hood a home-town community; that excels in growth, in principle, that becomes a State with a balanced opinion by democracy and Justice. It has prospered, as a United States, the successful American Experiment that other’s said would fail. (They ask to silence the anger, demeaning slurs to our neighbor and live the American Dream, with logical dialogue. “…to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all…”
Only an enemy of these principles, of this Awesome Country, can divide us into strife; systematically, until it implodes. Leaving the spoils for them and to enslave the people, for basic necessities. There will be no time to mourn luxury.
The time needs to be reminded that “the times (as usual) are a changin’ …”; to correct our mis-steps going forward into the American Dream.
Love is an illusion (friendship is instinctive), be just like me or perish (enjoy diversity), only self-serving interests (sharing and participating in another’s), laughing at calamity (understand and re-structure) …
…Love, the unimaginable truth, and its Divinity to commune with understanding family and neighbor, that creates quilted communities, is real. No material of its fibers and colors are independent of itself; unless it stands alone void of inclusion.
Less we push It into something abstract that dis-avows it. Love is not a contract, it’s an allegiance; morally and with mutual integrity that displays Itself, as an outward sign of friendship. Set to become the binding mystery of Love.
she waved to me with a smile and with an age-old hand
inviting me to enjoy this this day and who I am;
in April, lost in the afternoon.
Darkness and despair
“there’s a crack in everything” *
Grass above concrete
*Leonard Cohen
**haibun is the combination of two poems: a prose poem and haiku. The form was popularized by the 17th century Japanese poet Matsuo Basho. Both the prose poem and haiku typically communicate with each other, though poets employ different strategies for this communication—some doing so subtly, while others are more direct.
* 
ZoralinQ 