Students
All around me people
Studying and playing,
Getting ready for their
Lives of endless work
Punctuated by vacation.
The learning portion
Of the American dream
Where you can be
Anything you want.
It’s too soon for them
To realize that they can’t
Find a job as a
Political scientist.
Still, it’s a big world,
And the world needs
All the experts on history
It can get.
The world is changing.
Computers will be everywhere.
Maybe I’ll sign up to be
A network specialist.
Cubist Nightmare
What do they mean
By hanging all these
Cubist posters
On the walls?
Get ready for the cubicle
Young people?
Seriously, Pablo Picasso
Would be happy with
These interior decorators.
Why don’t they have
Fractal psychedelic dragons?
Some kind of new
Electronic visual arts?
Is it fashionable to have
Pink and blue beach tents
Hanging on yellow walls
In the study pub?
I really don’t know.
Perhaps they got a deal
On this mass produced
Photolithography.
Recycling
Empty plastic bottle,
You once held
Twenty ounces of
Diet Coke. Now,
It is gone,
Drained by my thirst
But you are left.
You’re a number one
Recyclable called PETE.
A perfectly good, unbreakable
Petrochemical container.
Soon I will throw you
Into the recycling bin
Where they will take you
And grind you up
Into pellets to be
Melted down and formed
Into some kind of low-cost
Recycled plastic garbage.
Such is the cycle of life.
Old plastic, serving up
Flavored water is gone.
Change the World
One person can not make right
Everything that’s been done wrong
In the history of the world.
You might think you make a difference,
But when you look at the whole situation,
There is nothing you can do.
Sure, you try your best every day
And do many kind things
For the people around you.
None of this can stop other people
From being the bastards that they are.
All you can do is take care of yourself.
You can’t stop trillion-dollar corporations
From going bankrupt, and you can’t
Do anything to stop a war.
Sure, you can complain,
But that won’t stop the trigger
From being pulled.
If you want to make a real change
You will have to get some people behind you.
You will need to form some kind of party
Involving all the good people of the world
Ranged against the evil manipulators.
You will need to have a clear enemy
And an easily-understood platform,
And in the end, it will be you
Causing all the problems in the world.
It seems power breeds corruption.
If you really want to live in a perfect world,
Perhaps you can get the machines to run it for you.
Maybe we should replace politicians
With computers.
Then the programmers will become
Our cruel masters in this
Cybernetic utopia.
Seasons Change
The heat of summer is gone now,
Clouds fill the sky with gray.
Last night the rain poured down
Upon the roof and hypnotized me.
I went swimming today, like a seal
In the arctic waters far to the north,
Diving to the bottom to pick up
Dead leaves that floated lifeless.
Fall is a season of drama.
Storms fill the air with lightening,
Winds rage, frost rimes the windows.
It is a descent from the land of light
To the darkness of pale winter.
Heat that once soaked like syrup
Into the pancake of the morning
Now replaced with jackets, sweaters,
And every kind of warm, wooly clothing.
I will miss laying on the porch swing
Watching the breeze drive fluffy clouds
Across the bright blue heavens.
I will miss not having to shovel snow
Every time a low pressure center
Brings piles of frozen precipitation
To the earth around my home.
It’s nice to have a house to keep
The weather off your bed.
In a way, it’s nice to hear the snowplow
Scraping its way across dawn.
It all boils down to this:
The axis of the earth is inclined to
The plane of orbit around the sun,
Thus we have seasons, unless we live
On the equator, and even then there will
Be changes in the weather to fill
Our lives with mystery and wonder.
The Scene
It is Saturday afternoon.
I am sitting in the shade
Of a small black cherry
In tall brown grass and weeds
While crickets buzz and flies
Dart aimlessly from leaf
To stem under the burning sun.
Cicadas whirr in the forest
Behind me. There is a pond,
Waters brown, dead algae
Floats like scum, and cattails.
A duck is swimming in the
Rippled water, oblivious.
It is calm here, and I see
No humans to annoy me.
The Sky
How can a person describe
The blue color of the sky
On a sunny day when only
A few thin clouds float by?
How am I supposed to
Delineate the splayed, dusky green
Branches of a white pine stand
As they claw their way
To the windy heavens
On the other side of the pond
Beyond the thirsty goldenrod?
An ant crawls on the bare skin
Of my left arm,
My foot is going numb
From sitting on the hard, baked
Earth as the sun slides
Through space, moving shadows,
And cottonwood fluff drifts
Across the sapphire sky.
A fish rises in the pond,
Swallowing a water strider.
Star
The sun is blinding, white heat
Engulfed in nuclear flames
The great orb seethes and writhes
Shooting out flares that would
Swallow the entire world
And singe the very stones
To glowing embers in the darkness.
It’s there, all day, all night
Casting its various electromagnetic
Rays down upon our planet,
Keeping our seas from freezing,
Keeping our air from freezing,
Letting us not only see, but feel
And supporting all life
With its radiant energy.
The creatures of the earth
Call out to our vital star
And sing to its sustaining
Energies and heat and light.
When will mankind realize:
All power is from the stars.
