Some Sad, Some Lonesome Days (a poem)

Some Sad,
Some Lonesome Days


Some sad,
some lonesome days—;
old friends dying of this and that!
Some killed in the war, some waiting, some not.
Kids left me long ago, no reason to return don’t need me anymore.
Lost a job not long ago, got sick, everyone knows felt empty, worn.
Wish mother was still alive, no fake skies!
So many friends turned rotten—deep in the gut, I sensed something’s
coming, and it did, an earthquake.
Some sad, some lonesome days—; fog coming in off the ocean, summer’s
gone, gone for another season.
Trying to stay away from arguments, fights
Too old, too near the end of my plight
A lot of bullies in the city, the world, everywhere, behind desks in bars
and cafes—don’t care
hard times everywhere, that’s been, kind of my life.

Wish I could smell the fall leaves burning in Minnesota, my hometown.
But I’m too far away—in Lima, Peru (wish I was in the mountains now)
in the grooved valley—
My brother, is already there—I keep—moving to it—

Keep your distance friend—
I seen too much now under six feet of gravel
Been listening too long to the blues,
Stopping for gas, and getting apocalyptic gifts
No way to close my mind, filled with clouds and bushes
Guess I really don’t care— some sad, some lonesome days they come
and go
Uncertain as the weather.

I hear
the song birds twitching
In my gardens, they haven’t left me, yet!
The dirty pigeons leave twigs all around, nesting by the window, a mess
This city never sleeps (day or night), eight-million in all—yet empty
Wish I was back in the mountains, perhaps soon—
I don’t regret much, can’t wait for a new book to read, it’s the only
thing on earth, honest with me….
I quite driving in this city, too many cars, exhaust
They all hate my honesty —too much, it bothers them
I walk around the house half naked, but I don’t care, it’s creative
and liberating
better than swatting flies or telling lies and gossip

So many memories & some hard to live with, can’t go back, or hide
Too much dirt on the road, too deep the bedrock underneath, just be
prepared to live or die—
Love, love—empty—some harmful—
But it’s everywhere I look; it comes and runs, leaves like a fish—
If it doesn´t hook you, it gets hooked; if it hurts, its self-defense
Kids call when they think you’re going to die, and write your will
blameless they feel—and years pass
Its too late now, love, love it came and gone, left like an old warn out
song (for the children)
Uncertain as the weather.

Some sad,
and some lonesome days—
So I’ll tell my maker when I meet him on that special day!
No dime stores left anymore, only my unwise temper remains
The sun doesn’t follow me anymore, left it behind.
Left it in Minnesota along ago, with my youth, but I got along.
Rosa’s my sidekick, don’t need a wife, so I found out when I woke up,
even under
Uncertain weather.


Note: Confessional Poetry, (10:00 AM), 4-19-2008); #2354 (Dedicated to an old neighborhood friend, Dave Meyers, died 2008). "The devil tries to destroy God in us, let him not take God’s place. With humility, we can forget and forgive, and go on living, and prepare our souls to meet the Lord. Part of love is excepting each other for who we are." Dlsiluk