Early Retirement

With the introduction of Spring-like weather yesterday, I sat in my cheap office chair trying to close the shutters enough to block the sunlight. I exclaimed, "God damn light, quit shining on my computer!" I eventually finagled with the cord enough and sat down satisfied. No sunlight for me, no 60 degree weather, only me, the customers and computer. Ah, the joy of being a working man??? This poem is an ending I hope I don't ever have, but if so, it would be my own fault.

There I lay, scattered across the carpet, dead.
My coffee cup had spilt onto my papers;
Someone would have to reprint them.
The last words I said before I collapsed were,
“Anna, when is this weeks meeting with John Dallenger from Dal Investments?”
Now that I am dead, I really wish I took that vacation in March to South America.
As a matter of a fact, I wish I would’ve super-sized my Mickey D’s order during lunch.
Shit, I died hungry.
I wonder how long it will be before someone notices me?
I bet Bob Jurence will take my place;
he’s wanted my position for years!
Bob will do well, and anyhow he is in much better shape than I am.
He might even make retirement unless he adds onto his house.
In that case, he may have to put in a few more years
depending on interest rates and how well his stock portfolio does.

Risk

There is always risk associated with life. There is always a chance you could die. Being a mountaineer and lover of nature, I imagine death in my pursuit of these most happy endeavors. I'm told, "Don't risk yourself. The mountains are dangerous. You could die!" And I agree that mountains are dangerous, but that I need risk. It is what keeps me sane, on my toes and prepared to face all lives challenges. The alternative of city life is not one that appeals to me. I need to range across glacier and ridge, test my metal on mountain side, and cast my luck with nature whom treats me with satisfaction and peace of mind.















You see I've got it all figured out
death isn't a racquet.
Without risk, what's life about
but a full metal jacket?

The Soul of a Mountain II

I thought I'd write a paragraph of a story. I'll add to it a paragraph at a time, as I write it. I'll try not to go back and change anything. It could be fun. Others could add to it if they want.

Lift up the night to awaken
on this mountainside
take sun swept slopes between glacier and tree
and watch the shadows march and ride

Born on the morning with the waking sun, the blackness gone, the fire of blushed excitement greets this sunrise, stretched over the hills below the mountain. Its actual name lost to a people whose wood homes long before rotted into the earth; trees now stood on their bones. A cold spring night had left a frost on newly budded branches and a bubbling stream fought its way out of ice. Beneath a blanket lay a young brother and sister fighting to stay warm. Nearby another blanket lay still, steaming as the sunlight marched on up the valley. Wolves howled, but no one seemed to care. Life had been too brutal. Yet the kids understood what it is they had to do.

Today they would leave their father, and carry his message home. He had said it could save them; they had seen enough to believe it. It had been two weeks since they had escaped the city, but the night before they had been spotted. In their flight their father had climbed this mountain, but hadn't made it far. The man that had been chasing them, had killed their father, but he had been wounded too, and lay licking his wounds further down. They had hoped he didn't make the night, but somehow they feared he had.

"Sis, we should go," the brother indicated as he shoved off the blanket. She was crying he could see, but there was nothing he could do. They had been put to the test like father had uttered they would be, "You are my blood, you know what to do," he had said. "Steel has dealt me a cruel blow. You are my son and daughter and you have strength undiscovered. Test it and it will temper you of stronger metal than what was wrought against me." His father wanted to say more, but that was all he had said. They were lucky to have heard anything at all over their beating hearts. Neither of them could believe their father had fallen. Not this time. He had survived so much before as leader of their tribe. They had lived in peace for nearly a decade, that is until they met the Osarks. He cringed thinking that one of them could still be following. At 12 he would stand and fight. The knife at his side held testament to that. But right now they needed to go, "Sis, it is time to go."

Unbeknown to them, trees swayed far below with wind funneling through the valley and dark clouds cursed the horizon with foreboding darkness. Awakened, a man could be seen next to his dead horse. His leg bleeding and his face bruised and bloodied from his fight, but he was alive, and three sets of tracks could be seen leading up the hill behind him. He grimaced as he prepared to follow. There wasn't a choice. He was pretty sure his quarry was not too far beyond him. He had to make sure his job was done.

Birth

There stood side by side me and you
all of us
We looked at the world upside down
old, scared by rust
And understood that there isn't truth
but trust
And that we are all children earthbound
full of lust

Now

It is easy to lose track of time and let life pass you by. You think that maybe now isn't worth remembering. That day at work pushing paperwork. That time spent cleaning your house. The truth is, every moment should be lived. They are all special. It is just your point of view that needs to be changed. If you look at the boring close enough, you will discover that it isn't so boring.

Don't lose track of now
life doesn't have cruise control
no sonic boom will sound
it is the moment you must console...

A Universal Cog

I wrote this during one of my first plane flights. Looking down from so far above, I imagined the world from such a perspective.

The power of air
down through which I stare
shows me a world
that dances and twirls

A great wide ocean sea
that behooves me
of what grandness lays below
and what small part I play of the whole

The city, the town, the wilderness stand proud
above them all, I hear not a sound
and of the madness I have seen
there below, lay only peaceful and serene

“How vulgar,” I think
“the horizon bold and pink.
How vulgar these pillow clouds that lay
streaked with red, swimming in gray.”

And now as the day is swarmed in black
shooting stars attack
the Earth and my understanding
this “place” I am commanding

Such realization quakes
a rising urge to awake
Earth is not a lonely flower ornate
Life’s universal steward of fate

This everything out there
up through which I stare
shows me so many worlds
dancing and twirling

Dark-Black

Captured without light
littered without sight
Stumble toward nothing
never stop running

lost in nowhere
forgotten and unaware
open your eyes
scream, no one hears your cries

Stop struggling so
Let go
Don’t ask why
you know you’ll die

turn and look at your face
look back at you through space
It is yourself you attack
here in the dark-black

All we are
is a point of light, a star
you can look and think
tomorrow forget and blink

life is everything
married in life we sing
a universe that breaths
futures that tease

Around we twirl
alone on this world
Around we wonder
life born asunder

I am

I am a tree,
I look up at the seasons turn and change
they look back at me,
and the world they rearrange

Summer it burns
my leaves, my bark
over me it runs
morning, afternoon ‘till dark

Fall it dies
yellow, orange then red
like one last sigh
Earth's blood is bled

Winter it buries
wind blows, snow falls
I cling onto memories
of sunny days, bird calls

Spring it blossoms
butterflies flutter, colors glow
life it glistens
as rain patters, plants grow

I am a tree,
no longer full of worry or reminders
I know that they will not forget me
life is here in my roots, I will endeavor...

Fall Haiku

Here I walk barefoot
There through the eerie darkness
Sightless but Earthbound…

Mother's Milk

We are not hunters or grazers,
but vultures and scavengers.
We are not beasts of burden,
but vermin and parasites.
We are not soldiers that defend,
but thieves that burn and plunder.

I think tomorrow, for us
Earth may shake its blanket of all its vermin
those that have taken and not given.

Panhandler

Death lays for me a golden carpet
life leaves for me not even a tattered rag
I shop for life in the local market
but I haven’t a dime, so I’m left to beg

“We Come”

I wrote this poem when I was younger. Since I am writing a story about a summer climb, I thought that this poem about stars was appropriate. It reminds me of one of the fantastic nights I spent up there.

The stars
They sit
Staring down
They speak
Saying
Again
And again
Come to me my little friend
but what are we
but mere tiny beings
who look with awe
at the glitter and sparkle
only wishing upon stars
for a heart-filled miracle
yet some begin to hear
a call growing greater and greater
and as the question strengthens
to batter our minds
we wonder…
“What is it that we must find?”
and as we rush
rising even mightier
we dream of places even brighter
yet being bound to our sphere
we desperately build
hoping one day to travel
across the endless galaxy
there discovering
wondrous fantasies
---places unlike our own
leaving us fighting just to gain hold
of all the things that remind us of home
but we put them aside
only because we must
---the call still beckons us
to seek farther into
the glitter
and
sparkle
sprinkling the skies
Right there!
ever before our eyes
and as they sit
staring down
they speak
saying
again
and again
come to me my little friend
and as we look
each of us says in return
“WE COME”
“We Come”
“we come…”

Shedding Tears that Rain

Moments of anguish
warm tears of pain
Hopes seem to vanish
like a midsummer’s rain

I tally up my life
the good and the bad
But what is the difference
the livings been had

I pick-up my head
and hold it high
Cause there is nothing to be said
just don’t cry

The crowd is awaiting
they have seen death before
Maybe I am just fated
to live through this horror

Right then I think of Heaven
and I think of Hell
Wherever I am going
I hope I will be well

The headsmen slides the hood on
my vision fades to black
All of my resistance is gone
like my mind just snapped

Cause there are hurts that harden
leaving you in pain
And there are hurts that burden
shedding tears that rain

I thought of HOWLING out my ANGER
but why should I
I am but a stranger
in their eyes

Even then I could
hear the swish
“Strange,” I thought.
“So this is how I finish.”

The axe found its mark
followed by a loud, “THWACK!”
My head rolled in the basket
and, my friends, THAT was THAT…

The Mouse and Me

On an early spring morning
when I was a’strolling
down through the low rolling hills
I saw a mouse sat atop
a rather large stump.

“So peculiar,”
voiced I,

“that such a little guy
would sit so simple-like
watching me without so much
as a wisp of fright.”

Indeed, quite an absurd notion
given a manner of mad commotion
where with rising incivility
I yelled quite loudly,

“SCAT!”

but the mouse simply sat.
Confused, I said in vain,

“What sort of insane madness
do you posses?”

Of course, I was again ignored
and yet, now suddenly fascinated,
I drew closer
until I was just within reach
but instead of reaching out,
I paused in consideration,
and warned,

“Repent and run
but I dare say, if I repeat
I will be done with you.”

There was still no reaction
as if I believed there would be
as if a beast would give pardon
and dazzle me with its wit and charm
by speaking,

“Excuse me good sir
I was predisposed.
A moment please
and I will be gone.”

All of a sudden I began to think
it would be cruel to scare the fellow off
and so I sat nearby for a moment
and said nothing.

“You know, little guy,
at times I feel like you
and I question ‘Why?’
what makes me
so much less?
In effect, you are me
and I am you.”

With that said, the mouse
rested onto his haunches.

“Madness!
You are mad, I say.”

But he reacted no more
and so I calmly proceeded, troubled,
but otherwise unaffected.

“Sometimes I fear our place
in society is only
the choice of others
whose opinion is vested
merely by the merit of the majority.
Such false ideals
and blatant actions of the ignorant
are not tolerable.
Am I so ignorant then,
so blind
That I will fall into
The chaotic eye of injustice
And never escape.
No, I think I will move on
and let be
those I can destroy at whim.”

So, I stood and retraced my steps
and calmly proceeded on my walk
happy, as well, as proud for what I had done.
A few feet down the trail, I turned
only to see the mouse
was no longer there.
Laughing I looked away
and thought about the
mouse and me,
and how confusing life is.
For a time I knew
that was all I was going to think about
but I had plenty of time
and a long walk ahead…

White Gold

Since powder snow will soon be gone, I thought I'd post a poem about it. You see, I'm a skier and I love skiing. A great powder day can be among the best to enjoy.

“White Gold”

Aloft, alone
Atop this nature’s stone
I moan, “Behold field’s of white gold!”
It sits there alive
Glittering like dancing angles
Whom rise from god’s table
to make a toast as such
to me and the making of my fable

In boast they say,

“No drink could ever be so bold
No drug as sensuous and full
For in your addiction to our affliction
Rests your heaven in the cold
Your Valhalla when your story
Is done and told.”


I begin this powder perfect day
Amidst a wintry wonder ray
And these sparkles spread out converse
A twinkling foreboding curse

“Tread not unless thee
Seeks to be free
For once one has sought
There is no cure to this disease!”

The wind in waves whisks this ocean
A turbulent sea in constant commotion
Where in my moment of decision
all time stops and freezes
and utters a rising notion

“Now is the time
the beginnings of my
language of rhyme
my musical opera sublime!”
For this is my dream.
A lost ship on a tilted sea
That bleeds the truth
Of my reality

“This place is my respite
from the storm
to be away leaves me forlorn.”

With no fear only fate to steer me
I find myself on the edge of action
And as I leave I can only mutter
And hoot howls of thunder
So overflowing is my bliss
With only my skill and skis to rudder me
Through these moments that hiss
From beginning to end down this ocean
An emptiness through which I row
So much peace in the throws
Of snow

So as such
My addiction is set
Until the day I fold
My days will be spent in search
Of the white gold…

The Moment

The moon dance
the river lance
my soul dives
the turning moon cries

The sun sighs
tomorrow hides
But now
there is no foul

This second descends
the moment defends
No time can taint
This day I paint

---a picture
of my adventure
an instant
not distant

The mountain high
the bird cry
The thunder cloud
the booming sound pounds loud

My ears
my fears
all emotion
such commotion

Windswept
a moment kept
sunburned
time turns

Yes the moment
a torment
a mighty ship
a journey leapt

It all makes sense
I'm not dense
Everything rings
And truth sings

Give and take
This life you make
Good and bad
Take and be glad