The random provides information
The information provides facts
The facts provide observations
Of how the random reacts
Gene G.McLaughlin 2013
Tag: Poetry
The Hive
Does the hive make choices better?
Did I ever really make a choice?
As I type this letter by letter
Is this really my own voice?
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
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
Don’t Believe In Me
Don’t believe in me
Don’t believe in yourself
Believe in the facts
And nothing else
What of faith
That which you can feel
Like the lucky tingle
When the cards start to deal
Who really knows
Certainly not me
All I got
Is what I can measure or see
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
I’m A Lot Like
I’m a lot like my father
Who lies quiet in the grave
I’m much like my mother
Yet not quite as brave
I’m a lot like the wind
Struggling with direction
I’m much like the water
Mirroring my introspection
I’m a lot like my sister
Struggling with myself
I’m much like my lover
When she takes me someplace else
I’m a lot like the rose
Beautiful and thorned
I’m much like a weed
When I feel lost and scorned
I’m a lot like nothing
When it all feels disconnected
I’m much like everything
When each morning I’m resurrected
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
That Crusoe Must Have Thunk
I have the kind of
Knowledge you get
From spending too much time alone
Books are my solace
When I am lonely to the bone
I am a dreamer
I am a drunk
I am thinking all the thoughts
That Crusoe must have thunk
I have the kind of old soul
That runs away from pain
I know all about the price of love
And its small and subtle gains
I am a dreamer
I am a drunk
I am thinking all the thoughts
That Crusoe must have thunk
I might have misgivings
Along the way
But the train’s already moving
And the fare has been paid
Some come on now
All you words and songs
Give me that substitute
For which my soul longs
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
This Is Not My Pop Song
This is not my pop song
Playing on the radio
My pop song is still playing
On the air waves of long ago
I can’t hear the melody
And the harmony sounds bad
Well I think whoever bought this single
Well I think that they’ve been had
Well how the hell they dancing and singing
Without losing all their damn breath
I bet they’re damn lip synching
How else they avoiding cardiac death
I try to switch the radio dial
But all the stations are the same
I will just sit here quiet a while
And think who I should blame
This is not my pop song
Maybe it belongs to you
The song structure is all wrong
The rhythm sounds bad too
Maybe I have just lost touch
And start to get a bit old
But this song sucks way too much
If the truth really be told
Well instead of sitting here feeling sad
Looking for some new tunes to hum
I am going to just be really glad
I got a box of old LP’s if I need some
Gene G. McLaughlin 2003
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