Category: Poems

Blue Buses And Fresh Dill

This is a poem my father wrote shortly before his death in 1999.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off my nose.

So I’ll take one giant leap at the moon.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off my nose.

If it would only slow down,

I’d sure take that blue bus to town.

Time will come when blue buses

Will roll around heavenly stars.

Full midnight chants will split your pants,

And you’ll put up fresh mint in green jars.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off my nose.

So I’ll take a long step to the moon

We’ll take one giant step at the moon.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off off my nose.

If you ever pass by this way,

Bring the pipe made out of red clay.

We’ll fill that ole bowl and we’ll smoke,

And cloud up the room ‘till we choke.

Then we’ll climb to the top of the hill,

Where night air is sweet as fresh dill.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off my nose.

So I’ll take a long step to the moon.

We’ll take one giant leap at the moon.

I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes.

The glasses fall off my nose.

Gene S. McLaughlin 1999

A Spring Wish

I want to be the man I am on the best of days

For as many days as I able

I want my moments of wonder

To outshine those where I feel unstable

I want to live a life of light and love

Where all days I feel enabled

Come sit with me and we will talk of joys

All are welcome at my table

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

It Is Important To Me

It is important to me

That even if you don’t know

If love was denied to you or not

That it was not

Because

If you never saw the sunshine

You shined as mine

If you never heard happy birthday

It was loudly sung

You didn’t know you cried out

The cries were heard

Because all things being equal

Which they are not

I’ll take you love

Over what others got

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

The Glorious Web Of Things

As you look at the flickering profiles

Pictures of food, vacations and babies

Status updates of bright proclamations of joyous lives

Full of that which you may lack

Recall there is no physical timeline

Only where you stand in relation to your feet

Only where you are in relation to the real of it

The solid physical aspect of it

The digital world is a not a fabrication

It is a trick of angles presenting only what side

Looks best on the LCD screen

If your phone is not in your hand

Or you have no followers or likes

You still exist in whole

Your timeline intact and uninterrupted

No screen between you

And that which it so inadequately represents

The glorious web of things that preceded it

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

 

The Word Human

Language gave me the word humans

To speak of what we are

The map showed me foreign lands

To show me the near and the far

You showed me the corners of my heart

Where the secrets of me do dwell

Guiding your hands with my eyes closed

And my heart and cock did swell

Human is not just a word

But an idea in the wind

That was quietly born

In our redemption and sin

I’ll stand and face you in the flesh

We’ll find our map through the words

We’ll find the way we know best

To make our passion and fear be heard

By the things we don’t understand

That which we can’t articulate

So my sweet love take my hand

And we will face all the cosmos love or hate

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

22 Years

When my father was my age

He had 22 more years left

He looked at the future

As an endless array of choices

Without death as an option

It was though

For good or bad

It always is

It is the boundary of

One’s vessel

Not it’s ripples

Across the inward ocean

It is hard me to view all of this

As an infinite journey as he did

Knowing what I know

Yet I will fight to view it so

The shrug off the knowledge of

Where the path to the ocean

Meets the water

Making 22 years into

A transinfinite journey

There is an eternity between moments

Endless ripples between the ripples

The ocean is never still

Even when there is no motion

Looking out from the shore

At the path’s end

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

A Spring Zen Prayer

Permit me to let go the things I am not

The things that are denied me

The things that are not to be

The things that cause me anger

The things that I cannot control

The things that are of me, but haunt me

The things that are of not of me, but haunt me

The things that the world imposed upon me

The things that I imposed upon myself

Permit me to know the things that are hidden

The things that become lost to me repeatedly

The things I must learn time and time again

The things I know are true, but cannot accept

The things that are of all things and not just me

The things that are of me and unmoving and real

The things that are not the narrative of it, but the pulse of it

The things that are silent and neither want nor give

The things a rock knows when the hammer falls upon it

I am the wind

Never allowed to settle or still

I am the ocean

Many things that look to be one from a distance

I am the sand

Both shifting and stable at once

I am the fire

Grown from spark to inferno to cinder all in a day

Let me begin each day and try to hear the silent sound

Let me begin each day and try to see the color of air

Let me begin each day and try to feel the back of my mind

Let me begin each day and try to smell the heat of the rising sun

Let me begin each day and try to feel the love I know pulses through the world,

but is sometimes lost to me.

If I cannot, let me accept my struggle and failure

Living not wanting to be that which I am am not

And rising tomorrow to try again to see

I am not it, but of it

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

Ecosystem

There are dragonflies

In my earliest memories

There are no clever thoughts

There are no grand ambitions

Only their loud hum

Only the heat of summer

Only the taste of sweat

Only the feel of damp

The river is near

Giving and taking

Sleeping then waking

Frothy then serene

The mountain is near

Giving not taking

Bending and breaking

Its peak still unseen

There is my mother

Provider of food and love

There is my father

Before me and not above

We are of here

This valley

This land

We are from here

Our family

Our band

All I know

Is nearby

Or at least as

The bird flies

The river knew my name

When I was baptized in it

The mountain knew my name

When I pissed upon it

I became of here

In my crib

As the wind blew

Through it

I cannot forget

The hum

Of horseflies

Nor the pain

Of their bite

Nor the pull

Of the river’s current

It’s inhuman might

It all escalates outward

It all internalizes inward

The river takes me elsewhere

The mountain fades from view

When I am motionless

I can hear the dragonflies

Humming there still

When I am motionless

The river carries me there

Once again

The mountain’s peak

Still out of view

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

From Hunger, From Shame

From hunger
From shame
Buckling under
The blame
Of the things
That speak to you

In subterfuge
In rage
Trapped in
The cage
Of the things
That make up you

True to the facts
To which the body reacts
Are desires
Fully intact
Of the things
That make up the core of you

Free yourself
Of their burdens and expectations
Seek for yourself
Love’s feelings and sensations

Genes G. McLaughlin 2013

I’m Gonna Have a Drink

I’m gonna have a drink
Let it wash over me
The way
You ain’t
Supposed to drink
Or at least
When no one sees
I’m gonna do some wrong
Let the night take its course
The path
You’re not
Supposed to choose
Or at least not
When you got something left to lose
I’m gonna cause a ruckus
My fists will speak my words
The way you’re
Not advised
To fight
Or least not
Over drunken slights
Eventually I’ll come to regretting
What I myself have done
They way
You only can
Wearing yesterday’s clothes
Looking blearily at the rising sun
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013