Acquiesce, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
There is no solace
For the terminal
Grim wonderment
The concoctions
Of other worlds
Of an afterlife
Stress and fear
Linger near
Even on a face of the brave
There is no solace
In the unknown
When the pulse is gone
What lies beyond
Is the same
As that before
The rest is lore
You breath no more
Look up to the sky
Look down at the floor
Hands clasped together
Content as a beggar
You try to bargain
To no avail, told your story
They mourn and wail
There is no solace
For the honest
The only option
That is certain
Is to acquiesce
To the inevitable
To be valued
To be loved
To be remembered
There is no other reward.
(end)
Category: Uncategorized
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The Carpenter, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)
Ian interrupted me
A minor inconvenience
Considering what he flattenedLike a steam roller
But he did force me
To go on another date
With you, laying on
Your crushed clovers
Your special language
And that garage
Full of tools, tools
You didn’t use
Blades, saws, things electric
Why not the bathtub?
Or high bridge, or traffic?
Or swim in heavy cloths?
Some carpenter you are
What carpenter uses park?
That medicine cabinet
Is mad at you
It had a date
With your liquor cabinet
You had your mind set
No sconces, candle holders
No cutting boards
Your wrists, were longing
You gave them not
The attention they wanted
But you, betrayed the carpenter
Who was not interested in building
You were going to be his apprentice
But you didn’t need one, did you?
You improvised, with four wheels
That never moved, with shut door
Smog that would make Los Angeles jealous
And it gave you that slumber, you longed for
Who was it? Who discovered you
Limp, ivory or blue, or both?
A China doll, motionless, pristine
Obscene. Were your eyes open?
The carpenter never used that
As a tool for your escape,
You broke the rules.
(end)
Hurricane Ian hit my home. I made it through, but the power went out so I used the time to read and write, and came up with this poem about the suicide of Anne Sexton. She unfortunately did the car in the garage thing.
This is a poem about the suicide of Anne Sexton. The “clover” reference is about a poem she is laying in a yard looking up at the nighttime sky. That represents her positive creativity to me, in that poem. But contrasted with one of her most famous poems “Wanting To Die” in which she describes the suicidal as a “carpenter” only interested in the tool to do the job, and not interested in building anything.
Once again, if you are feeling suicidal, talk to someone, a trusted friend or family member, or call a suicide hotline, or 9-1-1. You really are not alone. There are people willing to listen, and want to help. -
Emergency Alert, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
The enemy is us
Our species
We think
We are special
But the planet
Will bring us
To our knees
Our deforestation
And burning oil
Breakneck consumption
Earth will spoil
Fighting increasing
The button’s near
Mushroom cloud
We should be aware.
(end) -
Seeing It Coming, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrss37 on Twitter)
To look in their eyes
Knowing the clock
Does not care
You don’t know
The exact second
Of when, even if where
I watched an episode
Jo the friend of Blair
She had a teacher
She became close to
However she was
Unaware
She was dying
And when Jo found out
She had to face her
The pain and endless crying
In the presence
Of the loved in decline
The courage of facing
The last tick of time
This episode brutal
Yet compassionate
And kind, reminded
Me of my mother
In her last days alive
In the face of oblivion
Her only worry was me
Her only son
And I was the one
To hold her hand
In her last hours
To comfort her
Knowing death towered
The escape no one gets
But to have that life with her
Absolutely no regrets.
(end)
Today I was watching an old rerun of “The Facts Of Life” and Jo became close friends with an English teacher and at first, as the script goes, thought the teacher was moving to another school for more money, but it turned out the teacher was dying.
My mom has been gone for 6 years now, but watching that episode tore me up, because I know the feeling of seeing those facing death, and it is a horrifying feeling to know what they must be facing, but also the courage to be there for them in their last moments. You do the crying alone. Truth was, she was always braver than me. I knew she was afraid, but in her last weeks she was more concerned about me than anything else. -
Lipstick Face, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
She traced her face
On the mirror
Flowing hair
One eye with tear
No one
Diagnosed her
But everyone
Had her to fear
Under the radar
No one wanted to see
How dangerous she was
In the end she went too far
No record
At time of buy
They couldn’t
Take it from her
She sent many
A warning sign
But she couldn’t
Be stopped in time
Wet cloths
In the dresser
Rotted meat
In the refrigerator
Laurie took her pain
Into a grade school room
Something snapped in her
A child met his doom
Wade in the blood
It happens far to much
Lipstick on the mirror
Another kick in the gut
The cowards on the right
Refuse to stand up and fight
The epic firearm death
Happening day and night
This happened in 88
Countless have met their fate
The death toll keeps on rising
At an alarming rate.
(end)
I have insomnia so I decided to see if I could find an old Valarie Bertinelli TV movie. But I had forgotten the plot. All I remember was that she portrayed a real mentally ill person. I remember the scene where she promised her husband she was going to change and she got all dressed up, cleaned the house, got dinner ready for him. But when he went to his dresser all his cloths were wet. I had forgotten the gun part and the killing part. But now it infuriates me even more because nothing has solved the firearm violence epidemic since.
But there were lots of hints even before that something was not right with Laurie Dann (played by Valarie Bertinelli). The real husband warned police that she had purchased a gun. But the law at the time could not confiscate it from her. Laurie Dann went into grade school classroom and shot several kids, of which one boy died.
After leaving the school she crossed the neighborhood and took a mother and son hostage. Initially she let the mother go, but shot the son, he managed to escape and survived. Laurie Dann ended up committing suicide on the second floor of the house she ran into.The TV movie is called “Murder Of Innocence” staring Valarie Bertinelli. It is an unfortunate reminder that the GOP and the gun industry obstruct or gut any safety laws that could prevent events like this.
And here we are again, just like Virginia Tech, now Nashville, decades since 1988. These fuckers keep saying “Just keep them out of the wrong hands”, but nothing gets done and more people needlessly die.
“Lipstick Face” as the title is based on the images portrayed in the movie, which I would guess were based on family and police reports where she traced her face in the mirror with lipstick and a tear in one eye. -
The orange turd has been indicted for campaign finance fraud. Felony charge. It is about fucking time.
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Velocity, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
The wake of a boat
Pushes the water aside
Leaving an arrow shape
Behind
Now imagine something
Something high speed
Maybe 900 feet per second
Or 3 thousand feet per second
Traveling through your body
Creating the same wake
A boat would make
But blowing your flesh aside
Inside, like an apple core
Or worse, like a grenade
Your death is certainly made
This is reality, no arcade
This is what
A bullet can do
If you are unlucky
And one hits you
I have seen on tape
Budd Dwyer meet his demise
Opened his mouth
Put the 357 inside
The back of his head
Flew apart,
Guns are not toys
They are not an art
I remember the doctor
Describe the damage
After Uvalde
Of the kid’s bodies
400 million
Of all types
In civilian hands
Take more livesIf you find pride
In deadly tools
If you use “enthusiast”
To describe this muse
Go to the morgue
Spend a few hours to
See what the M.E. sees
And doctors too.
Have you ever heard
Of comedian Gallagher
His giant mallet
Smashing watermelon act?
Well here is the fact
There is no rewind
On a trigger, shredding
Organs bullets deliver
High capacity
High velocity
Flooded market
Leads to misery.
(end)
This is my what number in two weeks about this subject? I AM FUCKING TIRED OF WRITING THESE. -
No More Heros. By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
An E.R. Doctor
After the Navy Yard massacre
Pleaded with the public
To put her out of business
We rightfully praise
The officers of Nashville
But the conditions we tolerate
Put them in that position
Wouldn’t it be nice
If doctors, didn’t have
To say sorry, just for a family
To burry another victim?
Wouldn’t it be nice
If officers didn’t have to
Face an armed public
And could make it home at night?
Dayton Ohio
And a 100 round drum clip
32 seconds later
9 innocent people dead.
Why should a teacher die
Much less a little guy
Why should a doctor plead
Why should cops be on scene?
We know what
The problem has been
Our vetting laws are hollow
The violence never ends.
The altruistic hero
Is one of last resort
We should not be eager
To want them to report
To make them the default
A reactionary measure
When vetting at time of buy
Would be far far better.
(end)
I am sick of every time a mass shooting happens we talk about the heroism of the brave people that tried to stop it. It isn’t a failure on their part, it is a societal failure of decades in letting one industry and one lobby hold the nation hostage.
I visited Brisbane Australia twice two weeks each two years in a row. I was out late at night a few times, but even in heavy city traffic during the day, I heard no police sirens, no ambulance sirens. Brisbane is the type of place that if you drop your purse or wallet, it won’t get stolen. You don’t have to worry about getting your head blown off in public. They have a very low gun death rate. I fail to see why we cant do the same things here.
Why is it we are letting people with a fetish hold us hostage? Why should doctors and police and EMT have to see and respond to the blood and guts every day? It isn’t even close in other ally countries.Australia is not a dictatorship, neither is England, or Germany, or Canada or Japan. Those countries do not have a sick obsession with an object, we do. And our heros are constantly facing the results of blood and guts and PTSD for the survivors when the reality is if the gun shops and factories actually cared where their products end up, we would not have to have so many heros.
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The Things Not Seen, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
Oh how they prattle
On about the invisible
That this all powerful
Mysterious ways are knowable
It is inconceivable
To the fervent faithful
That their life is finite
Their book is empty promises
The fool’s gold, the pyrite
They look at the sky at night
The pretty stars of speckled light
If no God to cause, gives them a fright
If such to question
They will scorn
You owe this being
For being bornThis thing not seen
Consumes their life
If others don’t follow
They cause you strife
The projection of
Their own egos
Insecurities
Languished throws
Cast in fire
Down below
Hollow threats
They bestow
The things unseen
Of this I know
Antiquity’s ignorance
Wrapped in a bow.
(end)I think this is self explanatory.
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It Wont Be Long, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)
It won’t be long
It’s been too long
Another day
Of rinse and repeat
They know no zip codes
They know no class
They don’t care the building
Where you take your last breath
It won’t be long
It’s been too long
The flags at half staff
Boggling math
They take glee
How easily
The reaper’s trigger
Availability
Just walk in
Like a side of fries
No record required
More people die
It won’t be long
It’s been too long
Short order massacre
Is no surprise
That’s not katsup
On your shirt
Easy access
The blood does squirt
Brain matter
On the floor
Another hides
Behind a door
It won’t be long
Before the next one
I bet another
Before your reading this done.
(end)
A week or so ago I wrote ” I Would Tell You” about mass shootings, and there seemed to be a welcome doldrum at the moment, but unfortunately days later it happened again. The irony is that that poem was a response about someone else who wrote a poem about the Pulse Night Club which was years ago.
“It Won’t Be Long” has to be to me the most insidious title I have ever come up with for this subject. I desperately want every mass shooting to be the last.
Brian37 AKA Brian James Rational Poet...... My Poetry 