Posts tagged ‘pride’

May 5, 2018

The American Underdog

The underdog is the
all-American hero.
They have no chance,
no hope to win, everything
against them. But with
astonishing effort and self-belief
they make the impossible possible.
It’s a beautiful thing.
The American Underdog inspires.

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April 26, 2015

Human Beings at Wm O’Brien State Park, MN.

Morning.
A passenger side ranger inquiry,
lead to fresh blinding light
and splashing potable water.

Campfire embers smoldered
after an evening’s neighborly introduction and proclamation
of “Uptown Pride.”
—We, not so much.

Dusk.
Shown tattoos
and mushrooms,
no room for outside,
where the suburbs subside.

Today.
Huddles of families on holiday,
weekend campers on parade;
an International Airstream
sat local in a vast
golden marsh glade.

Yesterday Afternoon.
Pulling from the Bulleit bottle,
to crack a cold and wet brew,
gathering sticks with the best,
for firewood,
for warmth under
the firmament in rolled tents.

Last Night.
Loud bullshit and no possessable fish,
dirty fingernails and a waxing moon paled.
Lagers along a road near the St. Croix river,
walking long lengths pinecone covered trails.

Morning.
Shoes on jet rocked gravel drive;
smoothed stone,
downed trees,
white smoke,
where the sunrays seeped cutting dried eyes.

Here was Sunday morning,
a question,
packed and coming down
to the sound of classic rock, shutting doors, and moving tires.

How it got away.

January 3, 2015

The Abbey Theatre

Abbey! O! Abbey, you’ve come to remain.
Abbey! O! Abbey, you went up in flames.
Abbey! O! Abbey, you bring culture, theatre, drama, and art.
Abbey! O! Abbey, you give Dublin its heart.

August 19, 2014

St. Paul in the Fall

St. Paul in the fall,

whilst leaves change and thin.

 

Whilst festivities and fairs

under tents, bearing food, creep in.

 

Whilst trees bend

with robust forceful wind.

 

A time to reflect the mess we’re within;

past and coming years, one which end and begin.

 

Peers and loved ones we’ve lost,

at grand experience’ cost. 

 

Standing growing moving,

shedding one layer at a time

 

A tan peals and pales,

A secret is revealed.

 

Skin and bone become frail,

light years fast pass the snail. 

 

A north shore lake-effect patience,

Months under sun we’ve waited.

 

Suffering rain snow and gale,

Minnesota weather: what it entails. 

 

In and amongst everything;

though a singular unit, alone as one.

 

Walking fresh cold press coffee in hand,

scanning distant verdant lands.

 

On this walk towards autumn- new times and old friends,

alternatives we enact; to the ever changing plans.

 

Remember the voices we will never hear again.

Remember the times with loved ones we spend.

 

Perplexed by this simple yet inspiring life,

St. Paul in the fall feels cool, close, fast approaching, and right. 

May 3, 2014

Performance Art near Bryant-Lake Bowl

Jägermeister and biers
Then kicked out to the street
We were there for a bit
Then we had to leave

Flew round at sun-down
In scintillated light
Flew down for the evening
I was riding my bike

On Portland Ave.
They exclaim
They might see me

On Portland Ave.
I came
Wheels beneath me

Oh the drunk bastard is dry
Give him his rye
Oh that fucker; mean guy
Let sleeping dogs lie

He is less than me;
His reality is obscene
He is not next to me
He is underneath

Oh, Oh, Oh, and so on…

–No description at all,
None to recall
Was he fat or fit?
Was he thick-haired or bald?

Who judges this person?
Who judges discretely- who calls?
What you see with your eyes
Is described differently by us all

What company we keep
What of those we meet
Was it a pleasant surprise?
Or a disappointment in the least-

Again I sit with local celebrities
I have to ask pressing questions
Are names just minor discrepancies?
Are they darlings for our attention?

Goodbye Auf Wiedersehen
On to new situations
On the street forward making
On to splendid occasions

To Bryant-Lake Bowl
In a car we drove
For a stroll, for a go
Exposing deeply our souls

In reddened pale light
A girl died one night
This scene of present sight:
Some mixed up fight

Blurred pictures remain
No date and no name
Was a crying shame
We drank that day

Now we look
Broken on the curb
A collapsed man
Drunk and absurd

Too blind to stand tall
Not at all looking proud
He had something to say
Thick mumbling aloud

We walked towards and down
His adversaries stood over
We watched stepping around
While still moving closer

Blood on the street;
He on the ground
Level with feet
He made a pitiful sound

A bald man in cahoots
Was reciting him his lesson
2 men were to explain
Their benign intentions

Questions of: “Did you strike him first?”
What’s the story?
“Have you done cocaine tonight?”
Boy! Don’t you ignore me!

He was obviously not sober
After a few inspections
Words weren’t coming out right
Aphasia for reflection

They stood at the door; shoulder to shoulder
He: a sad pile of bones in a suit sat
Looking younger rather than older
We 3 strolled along light hitting as we passed

Waiting for a taxi cab
The 2 guys had to explain
One of them shouted,
“He said he had AIDS!”

“He blew blood our way!”
There he lay in subdued shock and dismay
He could not get up
So there he would stay

Now no one touched him
Confused little looks
They went about their business
Scot-free lucky crooks

Moved by this art
The blood drops dark red
Spread thick while inches apart
Trail of liquid which lead

A few more steps
And we were at the door
We took our seats
After chair legs screeched the floor

In most of my glory
Contemplation of sport
Of what we had seen
I was staring straight, completely absorbed

How did I get here again?
And what the fuck just happened?
:
Man in his stasis; we’ve likely had these days
It’s 20/20 vision to talk of others in such ways.
;
I don’t know what you do,
And I don’t care
.
That’s where I was,
I was there.