Summer A Boon

Summer a boon

Before you go

A warm wind

A late sunset

A last flower

A blue sky

My mind distracted

By comfort

Instead of cold

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014 

Reddit It

Reddit it

But first edit it

Trying for a meme

Choose from options

Of pre-approved themes

A world of blackblue sadness

Bursting at the seams

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

Lonely Hearts And Half Empty Shopping Carts

I understand nothing of your grief and pain

There is nothing I judge equal that I call my own

No stand to take or ground to gain

Your sad song wails over the voices of the joyous

Drowning out so much of the quiet pleasant music

That wraps itself around the world unknown to most

So much chatter of what is missing or not possessed

Lonely hearts and half empty shopping carts

Wandering through the Wal-Mart past midnight

Beneath the smiley faces and fluorescent light

There is beauty in the spaces in between

Seen only by actually looking

Never does it preen

Call out for attention

Seeking condolences or complimentary mentions

The moments existing within themselves only

Devoid of all of the trappings of

Of society and camaraderie

The strings and sinews of you and me

In the night I hear the yells and howls

Like bird calls trying to draw meaning

Out of the cool chill of the sky

Nothing comes forth and the dark spirits

Settle in denying this and that and filling

The gaps with questions and doubts

Hope is the worst thing that came out of the box

It is that which breaks us first not sticks and rocks

So much work so little reward given

For all the devotion to the libraries of ideas

That consumes and dooms us

The song sings to you now if you can pause to hear it

Gentle strings and the Zen beat which is always there

It all lies in the elimination of the white noise

So then the white noise can truly be heard

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

The Summer Squirrel

Insight is not available

Revelations do not come forth

Just the dog day heat

The sweltering breeze


The summer squirrel

Navigating the tree

Never seeing all branches

The tree in whole

Yet never falling

His self-knowledge

Is all encompassing

Living near death

Makes all thing

Shine brightly





Enough to fill

One lifetime

Might as well

Let go of it friend

The entirety of the tree

Cannot be seen

Without falling

From its comforts

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

Memory’s Lapse

Humans come to the same revelations
 Throughout generations
 Across nations
 Then timely forgetting
 Consistently regretting
 Their memory’s lapse
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

Melody Memory

Melody memory

Bring me home

Personal history’s

Tides and foam

In search of something

Long did I roam




Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

Deep Inhaling, Truth Found in the Air of Moments, Exhale



Holding court in house of caffeine discourse

Minions hear ear carefully

Actually not comprehend sound one speck

Just sitting and think minding

Do the others grasp mind hold the

No flinch flex away, truth swallows only odd tastes primarily

Or so he voice speaks smile smirking

Nicotine yellow stain soaked index fingers

Once hot coffee part consumed

Attire style bordering

Yet on purposely not quite

Style is his trend collectiveness

Follow drones can even look the part

Marx speak incessant then stopping

Momentarily class warfare farer

Next love holding Adam Smith

Like long missing brother

Deconstruction is masturbation, capitalism is crime

Either side is fine to fight for it is all for the argument anyway

Idiots are rapid reviewed

Brain speed faster than mouth move but

Intelligent eloquence is never lost

Sometimes misplaced but always returns

Where was I? Destruction is distracting

Hints clues of sad sick song in voice tone

Some partly subtle but present

Italian non-native orders coffee at counter

Ciao! Conversation ensues for a minute

Language is math with red pepper and lattice

Patterns of move meanings numbers drifting through air

Momentarily after he is wordless

Next far away untouched by daylight and bird song less

Interruptions last secondarily, then mouth opens and ideas exit

Charisma is there regardless though eyes show touch of soul pain

Lights another smoke cigarette and on to . . .




Chill-quiet state forest in the dead heart of winter

Fire tower seems misplaced and lonely

Sitting even above the tallest ancient trees

Pondering sitting amongst piles of journals, dusty volumes

Smoking cig butts in ash tray, piled high as fire tower itself

Looks much the same, recognizable in self-exile soul sojourn

Nerve ticks in mannerism, speech occasionally quickens

‘Med pills helps some, still sleep turn uneasy slumbers sometimes

Voice is shaky-thin haunted, yet still filled with life

Don’t miss teaching lecturing, miss the people students

‘I look for smoke here, it is quiet I can read, no distractions’

Phlegm mouth, water sip, lithium tongue scorch

Thirst hiss, eyes distant horizon point

‘Only one winter fire, but one section of woods blazed red to char

Lonely duty, but this place I must be, sylvan quiet calming’

Hand him a pile of word puzzle scribble grids from the Times

Mild diversions for him, weeks of intelligent torment for me

Questions asked about old friends

Doing fine not doing fine married had children dead/drunk, etc.

Smile to face thinking back to when things weren’t so night black

Short wave radio plays jazz from distant metropolis

In distance sun is dip setting, I climb down

Shaky handshakes my hand, trembling a little a battle to keep it still strong

Small smile across his face, visible emotion in his eyes

Little victory battles one recalls, when the warfare farers fight no longer




Eyes open, dark my vision

Phone ring aware now, fumble reaching

Receiver in hand, mumblings and greet speak

Deep resignation of fate driven bio inevitability

Slow walk to the car, late fall early

Night morning air feels cold damp wet upon my bare skin spots

Put car drive slick roads slow speed

Destination dark dim door ajar

Cig smoke ember-red leads way

Distant eyes non-responding dimensioned but absent

Stumble walk to dark dead dawn

Alive for some not all

Slow drive in small red car

One aside in car is so far

Destination reached

Gaze never breached

That which is

Paper work always

Slurring the word and scribbles

The effort a mountainous molehill

Not for nothing is something

The place placard states the obvious

Is this the Looney bin?

Sure why not

Was not was always has been

This is a circle but a broke shattered sullen one

I understand half way but never want to understand whole




It is summer and I sit on the carport with the outside light on reading.

He walks up from next door.

‘What are you reading?

‘A.E. Houseman.’

‘I loved A.E. Houseman when I was your age.’

‘I like Terrence This Is Stupid Stuff’

‘I read that one many times. His poems have nice order to them. They are comforting, but . . .’


‘It is hard to explain’


‘A lot of things are.’


Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

Chicken Wings Vs. McRibs

Oh chicken wings

Such tasty glory!

But for the chicken

It can be sort of gory

In truth I don’t know

But if I guessed

Having one’s arm removed

Might make a mess!

Now what makes the McRib

The very best

Is the artful way

It is compressed

Because if the pig

Had any pain

It is hard for me

To ascertain

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014

My Voice Is Weak Tonight

My voice is weak tonight

Burned by the sad black flame

I see attribution

Words I seek to blame

Its simply dissembling

The fire knows my name

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014


Let’s talk about thunder

The sound that it makes

Earth’s palpable fear

When the storm wakes

All living things pause

As the sky quakes

Gene G. McLaughlin 2014