Final Stand

At last the sun begins to set,

the night does approach,

and it is here by your side

where I shall face

all that it has to bring,

it is here where I shall make

my final stand;

no more running,

no more hiding,

no more interference,

no more pretending;

no more fear.

Traveling the miles and years

without understanding or direction,

without purpose or clarity,

once again the bullshit and

all that is unimportant

begins to fade,

the uncertainty passes,

withering roots come back to life,

brave new universes patiently wait,

seeking shelter within cool pockets

of summer shade,

the land of promise lies ahead,

we have waited for this moment

all our lives,

we have come home

to live;

we have come home

to die.

Take my hand,

together we will survive

the destruction,

together we shall face

the final storm;

together we shall

make this final stand.
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An Uneasy Interruption

In the end

I will fade away

like the early morning dawn,

quietly changing from darkness

into light,

without a sound,

without a fight,

a passing whisper

in the middle of the

dark, crisp night;

we all do,

we all will,

we simply have

little choice.

Words will mean very little,

relationships even less,

memories but a brief moment,

an uneasy interruption,

a passing vapor

in a world of swirling mist.

I have been to the mountaintop,

I have peered into the oblivion below,

I have heard the small still voice,

I have known the touch

of His calm, cool hand;

words will never be enough.

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Out On The Edge

Out on the edge,

people and places are seldom

what they seem,

lines become blurred,

light but a reflection,

faces come out of the night,

moving beyond darkness and death,

winter winds blow cold,

leaving trails of broken bones,

rising into the emptiness beyond;

out here,

all hope has died.

Sitting here

watching the rain fall,

nowhere left to go,

no more room to run,

the voices slowly fade,

the faces silently disappear,

everything passes with time,

nothing lasts forever,

is truth enough,

or does darkness win?

without love,

are you only

fooling yourself?

Nothing is hidden

that will not be revealed,

no debt goes unpaid,

a reckoning

for every word whispered

in the night;

an accounting

for promises made

but never kept.

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Right and Wrong

Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.

Romans 13:1-2

In America being poor is a death sentence,

in America your pocket book determines

the level of respect you receive,

in America you either love it or leave it.

Sometimes it is forgotten

that this nation was founded by people

who didn’t ‘love’ it;

but instead of leaving

they fought a violent and bloody war

to gain their independence,

or how a hundred years later

this nation was literally torn in two

as brother fought brother,

because one side didn’t ‘love’ it;

It makes me wonder just who

the real patriots are,

those who blindly accept whatever is thrown at them,

by a government that grows increasingly powerful and intrusive,

or those who question every policy and decision?

and to be perfectly honest,

I don’t care one way or the other.

This nation and this government

are only what they are allowed to be,

by a God who created all things,

it does not have any more power, wealth or wisdom

than Rome or Greece or any of the other great civilizations before it,

this nation exists only because God willed it to exist.

I’m sure in colonial days there were preachers

who stood up in their pulpits and declared

that those who didn’t ‘love’ being a British colony

should just leave,

I’m sure that many of the religious leaders of the day

branded Washington and other leaders of the revolution

as criminals and traitors,

but Washington and the revolutionaries won,

and winners write history not losers,

the truth is they won

because that was God’s will,

plain and simple,

so you should be careful who you call a criminal,

or who you tell to love it or leave it,

because you just might be on the wrong side of God’s will,

unless you presume to know more than God himself.

So don’t get caught up in who is right

and who is wrong,

try not to take sides

in the affairs of men at all,

seek the will of the Lord first

and trust in Him

without leaning to your own understanding,

and remember His command for us all:

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead I have called you friends, for everything I have learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other.                                    John 15: 9-17
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Corporate Policy

Do you think they know?

When they talk about

patriot acts and revenge,

illegal imprisonment and torture,

justice by any means necessary,

do you think they know

that they are the ones

who are slowly killing this place

called home,

the land of liberty

and justice for all?

Or perhaps they do,

perhaps this is the excuse

they have been waiting for

all along,

ever since the public became aware

that the government lies,

that cops plant evidence

and arrest innocent people,

since JFK and Vietnam,

since the Bay of Pigs

and Watergate,

perhaps;

but more than likely

they never really cared at all,

they take their orders

from the board rooms

and CEO desks’

of the world corporations;

the real rulers of America.

Who pays the cost of all those news channels

you watch every day?

or those newspapers and magazines you read?

(why do you think that is?)

it is corporate policies

that decide when the next bombs drop,

and where,

so you want to stop a war?

simply make it unprofitable,

unfortunately war is very profitable

(for awhile),

but then it becomes costly,

so eventually

it has to be stopped;

and health care?

sorry pal,

you’re just shit out of luck

there,

besides;

nature has already provided

a plan of its own.

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National Healthcare

Attention

my fellow Americans,

the government,

along with leaders

of the corporate

and business world,

are working in conjunction

on a long term plan

to solve the country’s

current health care crisis,

and the solution

we have come up with

is called;

death.

Yes, that is correct,

it really isn’t such a bad plan

if you just take the time

to think about it,

you work while you’re young,

then when you get sick

or too old to work,

or require expensive

medications to get by;

you die.

It works for the good of all,

it helps keep America strong,

and that’s what we all want isn’t it?

and just think of all the good

it will do for the younger generation,

it will mean a constantly growing job market

and will save all those Medicare costs,

which will free up a large chunk of change

for national defense;

those cruise missiles aren’t cheap

you know;

and we all know that a good defense

is a strong offense,

and boy we sure do have

a lot of offensive plans

for the future,

now that we

have assumed the role

of world policemen (and women),

of course the growing military

commitments

will create many new jobs

for the young in and of itself,

so you see it’s all being handled,

nice neat and clean;

just like you

wanted it.

Now if those of you 55 or older,

or who are currently taking more

than 3 prescription drugs

could just report to your local health department,

we’ll put this bold

and innovative new plan

into effect;

government officials and

the independently wealthy

need not report,

wouldn’t be good for the economy,

bad for job creation and all that other bullshit;

you understand of course.

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America's War

America is fighting a war it cannot win;

a war that began many years ago

when men believed

they could dominate other men,

controlling them through fear and intimidation,

a war that gained momentum with an idea

planted over 200 years ago;

that liberty is sometimes better than life,

that there are some things worth dying for,

that freedom at any cost is sometimes better

than life under the rule of others;

that all men are created equal.

A war given a face

by a nation of farmers and merchants

who defeated the most powerful empire in the world,

a war reinforced

by a terrible and bloody civil conflict

fought on the principle that economic gain

does not justify the enslavement of other men;

America is fighting a war it cannot win,

against the only enemy capable of defeating

her vast and mighty power;

America is fighting a war

against herself.

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Possibilities

There is a silence here,

it grows like a whisper,

a quiet, controlled pause,

a small, knowing glance,

a foreign substance

speaking a language

all its own.

We have become a nation of whores,

selling our children to the highest bidder,

devouring their inheritance

for a pittance,

accepting the consequences

with no thought for tomorrow,

trapped within the madness

of the method,

replacing character with content;

ends justifying the means.

False prophets

in love with the sound

of their own voices,

forever searching

but never seeing,

forever finding

but never understanding,

unaware,

unsuspecting;

sometimes knowing the answers

is not nearly as important

as imagining the possibilities.

The light of a new dawn

begins to break,

I am leaving this dark place,

going to a home unknown,

what tomorrow brings

does not matter;

for You will be there

to make it right,

You will be there to wipe away

every tear.

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Never Was

Out here in this wasted space

of no-man’s land;

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss;

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues

among lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees

in-between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark.

Old debts return,

tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat,

holding on until

there is nothing left;

without a hope,

without a chance.

Beautiful dreams like a river,

flow on their way to the sea,

dancing like butterflies

on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic

within the caverns of the soul;

sometimes the greatest love

is that which never was.

One more time,

traveling down this

long and lonesome road,

searching for a home

inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began.

My eyes have seen what others

have not,

my heart has known that

which no heart should.

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Counter-Terrorism

Man-made truth;

as if

there really is

such a thing,

there is life

and there is death;

with man
everything in-between

is negotiable;

although sometimes

we are closer

than we might know.

When everything you love,

everything that makes your life

worth living is destroyed

in the blink of an eye,

will you care

whether it was a

laser-guided

smart bomb,

dropped by the so-called

‘good guys’,

or an explosive laden

truck driven by the so-called

‘evil doers’?

I think not.

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Sandcreek

Sand Creek;

the truth dances like a ghost,

a mighty wind whispering

through the silence of the night;

who will hear the voices?

who will right the wrong?

it is hard to love when so much injustice abounds,

hard to forgive when innocent blood

runs across stolen ground,

dirty little secrets hidden in time,

deep dark memories of which no one speaks;

you can never escape the past,

it follows you like a shadow,

softly surrounding you like a glove,

slowly blending into who you are,

silently determining what you become;

all the treachery and cowardice revealed,

the self-made bravado and false heroics

silently exposed,

sons of murderers,

daughters of liars and thieves,

descendants of swine,

a little lower than dogs,

somewhat less than human;

without honor,

without dignity,

without hope;

their homes built upon hypocrisy and greed,

their tongues filled with misconceptions and lies,

their legacy stands like a wavering deck of cards,

waiting to crash down upon their guilt-ridden heads;

Sand Creek remembers.

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Floodwaters

The world is dying,

I am dying,

death has become my only friend,

the final sanctuary,

in a life no longer

worth living.

Each day begins anew,

each day ends,

the breeze continues to blow,

the rivers continue to flow,

the morning sun arrives

right on time;

for every season there is a purpose,

for every question there is an answer.

I see the ugliness lying

just below the surface,

the self-serving hypocrisy,

the incomplete falsehoods,

the insincere agendas,

they do not fool me;

not even for a moment.

This time begins at last,

the hour at hand,

the children of men are no more,

their monuments of glory

crumble before the wind,

the bitter taste of their demise

lies frozen upon a sea

of silent tongues;

this then is the beginning,

this then is the end.

Still they do not listen,

even now their eyes remain blind,

giving in marriage and celebrating

right up to the very end;

surely there is no hope

for ones such as these.

a chip off the old block

He was not my father,

but he should have been;

he was the one who showed me

that words don’t have to be flowery and sweet,

that sometimes they can be rough and real,

that rules can be broken,

that life sucks and it’s ok to talk about it,

that shit happens and sometimes

there’s not a damn thing you can do about it,

that dreams die

but you keep on living,

that friends come and go,

but a good shot of whiskey

will never let you down,

that dogs may be loyal

but women are really man’s best friend,

that you can sit on your ass all day

waiting for the end to come,

or you can run headlong to meet it,

sticking up your middle finger and

screaming profanities at the top of your lungs

the whole way;

that you can write poetry and

still be a man.

Yeah he wasn’t my father,

but he taught me all the things

that a father should teach a son

so sometimes I feel like maybe he was,

and deep down inside I know

that every word I write is done

seeking his approval;

I only hope that someday

I can become as big a bastard

as he was;

a chip off the old block;

thanks dad.

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the girls we followed home - Charles Bukowski

the girls we once followed home are
now the bag ladies,
or one of them is that white-haired
old crone who
whacked you with her
cane.
the girls we once followed home
sit on bedpans in nursing
homes,
play shuffleboard at the public
park.
they no longer dive into the
white-capped waves,
those girls we followed home,
no longer rub their bodies with oil
under the sun,
no longer primp before the
beautiful mirror,
those girls we followed home,
those girls we followed home
have gone somewhere,
some forever,
and we who followed them?
dead in wars,dead of heart
attack,
dead of yearning,
thick of shoe and slow of
speech,
our dreams are tv dreams,
the few of us,
so few of us remember
the girls we followed home.
when the sun always seemed to
be shining.
when life moved so new and
strange and wonderful
in
bright dresses.

I remember.

- Charles 'Hank' Bukowski

my dreams are suffering and sorrow

my dreams are suffering and sorrow,

struggle and pain,

heartache and helplessness,

empty cauldrons;

just on the edge of madness.

waking in the middle of the night,

wasted and worn,

a burned out shell,

remembering a life

that never began,

living a death for which

there is no end,

surrounded by faceless names

without hope;

my dreams are suffering and sorrow.

broken,

all typed out,

upside down,

inside out,

slapped silly,

smacked senseless,

washed up and

left for dead,

broken;

when you’re in love,

they are in every face,

every smile

every word;

some things are better

left unsaid.

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Keep Your Love Alive (Thanks Anne Wilson)

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” – Dante Alighieri - Inferno (Divine Comedy)

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.  I Corinthians 13:8-13

the end approaches,

shadows grow,

darkness builds,

prison bars disappear,

all the self-imposed chains

fall away,

no more limits,

no more boundaries;

no more fear.

words have no worth here,

possessions even less,

all that you think and feel;

unknown,

unimportant,

unimpressive,

unreal,
beyond physicality,

beyond sadness,

beyond joy,

beyond knowing,

beyond wondering;

beyond caring.

only one thing remains,

one thing amidst all the

desires and lusts,

the endless worries,

the doubts and concerns,

the empty, useless emotions,

the greed and envy,

the only thing that ever

mattered all along;

hold on to it with every

ounce of strength that

you possess.

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betting on the muse - Charles Bukowski

Hank, you were the greatest

betting on the muse

Jimmy Foxx died an alcoholic

in a skidrow hotel

room.

Beau Jack ended up shining

shoes,

just where he

began.

there are dozens, hundreds

more, maybe

thousands more.

being an athlete grown old

is one of the cruelest of

fates,

to be replaced by others,

to no longer hear the

cheers and the

plaudits,

to no longer be

recognized,

just to be an old man

like other old

men.

to almost not believe it

yourself,

to check the scrapbook

with the yellowing

pages.

there you are,

smiling;

there you are,

victorious;

there you are,

young.

the crowd has other

heroes,

the crowd never dies,

never grows old

but the crowd often

forgets.

now the telephone

doesn’t ring,

the young girls are

gone,

the party is

over.

this is why I chose

to be a

writer.

if you’re worth just

half-a –damn

you can keep your

hustle going

until the last minute

of the last

day.

you can keep

getting better instead

of worse,

you can still keep

hitting them over the

wall.

through darkness, war,

good and bad

luck

you keep it going,

hitting them out,

the flashing lightning

of the

word,

beating life at life,

and death too late to

truly win

against

you.

- Charles Bukowski (Hank)

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