Tag: Poetry

It Doesn’t Matter As Much

It doesn’t matter as much

As my beard grows grey

If I fail, succeed

Or win the day

I’ve failed at things

Had a little success

Surrendered without trying

Or gave it my best

It’s still all so beautiful

It’s still all so sad

If I’m dutiful

If my efforts are bad

I’ll live in the middle

In the dawn or dusk

I’ll engage a little

If I must

I’ll be the bass line

Of the song

You’ll only hear me

If you listen long

Lennon said

Watch the wheels go round and round

Watch the colors

Hear the sound

Feel the beat

Of your space

Stepping back

Is no disgrace

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

That Is The Wolves In The Hills

I don’t think I have seen you since I left

I don’t think I remember your name

I don’t think between us there is anything left

I rather not talk if it’s all just the same

My memories are cloudy, but certainly don’t fret

I definitely recall who is to blame

Reconciliation is out of the question

Those who are guilty must live with themselves

Recognition of the situation

Truth is only there for them that delves

Fact segregation and new truth creation

Our strongest ambition

And goal for ourselves

Oh do you hear the howling . . .

That is the wolves in the hills

Oh do you taste the bitters . . .

That is war’s bloody pill

Mother this is your sorrow to swallow

Mother he was his country’s to kill

Mother you know nothing

Of liberty and sacrifice

Let me tell you something

Of the price of your way of life

I will not acknowledge that which I have done

I will hide behind reasons of the winnings of war

I will support the soldier’s still among the living

I will not recognize those who are among us no more

I don’t think I have seen you since I left

I don’t think I remember your name

I don’t think between us there is anything left

I rather not talk if it’s all just the same

Oh do you hear the howling . . .

That is the wolves in the hills

Oh do you taste the bitters . . .

That is war’s bloody pill

Gene G. McLaughlin 2005

Every Wart, Every Scar

Grew up feeling

The need to be redeemed

Spent years trying

Or so it seemed

To make it something

Of worth I deemed

For others judging

To hold me esteemed

After years of failing

The attempts I tried

Took to fleeing

To the shadows on the side

One day

The haze just broke

The illusion

Went up in smoke

We are redeemed

From the start

We let constructs

Tear us apart

You were born

Healthy and whole

So you stay

From young to old

Do not exist

To only achieve

Always resist

If they deceive

With tales of why

This is not enough

Or that you need

Garages full of stuff

All that you need

You already are

Every wart

Every scar

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

Engage and Exist

Some know what it is like

To let go and fade away

Sometimes for months

Sometimes for years

It is quiet in the dark

Beyond all expectations

Beyond any criticisms

Where hope is absent

And has been surrendered

On occasion

There is an emergence

An awakening

A shudder

A thought

Where did that time go?

Is it too late?

It doesn’t matter at that moment

Where you find yourself

The clock has started again

The sky is clear above

All you can do is move

With purpose without expectation

There was no shattering

No pieces to put together

It was just a slow fade

Now

Engage and exist

It will sometimes be hard

It will sometimes not be worthwhile

It will hurt

It will be better

Than alone in the dark

The world was not made greater

By your absence

It might be

By your return

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

Unstamped

Lonely, but not sorrowful

Sitting in the cold wet grass

Resigned to season change

Summer burns away

Short, sometimes glorious

Sometimes fleeting

In times of leisure passing unaware

Disappearing without notice

Noting that fact

Arising walking toward the water

It is cold and salty

In the depths it is winter already

World of krakens and such

Beach holds no revelations

Only noise, absence of human sound

Birds shitting and squawking

Fish there, but unapparent to the eye

Avoiding the water, too brisk a day

For water logged shoes

Some moments cannot be stamped

By signatures of time or date

Only moments framed by themselves

Loneliness starts to needled at me

Urban instinct desires activity

Moment and sound of the hive

Walk up through the overgrown

Green brown-splotched grass

Toward the house

Strolling passed the peeling paint

Toward the narrow two lane road

Ten-minute walk to town

Where the date and time

Are always clearly stamped

Gene G. McLaughlin 2004

When I Met Her

When I met her

I was five foot ten

The next day I felt taller

Yet lighter on my feet

The tape measure said I was still the same

The scale showed no difference

I told my doctor of this

He looked through his horn rimmed glasses

And said

This is a condition that happens

It is unpredictable

It is called a woman son

Gene G. McLaughlin 2012

Ancient Paper

Ancient paper

In the zipped pocket

Of an old leather bag

Receipts

Itineraries

Detroit

Dallas

Denver

A life once lived

Depicting only details

Of places and times

Flavorless

Yet true in a way

Having been there

The fading papers

Create a distance

That doesn’t occur

In my mind

Signaling and

Pushing me into the present

I shake my head awakening

And step out into the current timeline

Once again

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

White Flag – Jasper Johns

you are tired

the blood has run through you

the blood has run out of you

the blood has dried on you

red is no longer your visage instead

it is the white of fade and loss

not promise which you once represented

not hope which you once inspired

not purity of symbolic idea

but violence and dreams of power

you have changed of your own volition

transformed via your own power

your color patterns your own now

in protest and in desire to end it

having seen far too much, far too many shores

born of an idea

witness to what was forged

only you can measure the full cost of the years

so you act in what way you can

rebellion resurrection recreation renewal

Gene McLaughlin 2004

Musical Memories Recalled

Bob Dylan barely aware

Looking at the crowd

As if he didn’t recall why they were there

Beck as a young man

Becoming something new

Before our eyes

John Lee Hooker singing tales

I was too young to understand

But am starting to now

Lou Reed looking older

Yet still defiant

Equal parts rage and love on stage

P Funk swirling like chaos

Floating on the boards

In a smokey dark haze

Elliot Smith standing like a shadow

Singing with beauty and fear

Shortly before the end

Public Enemy fist raised

Marching and calling out orders

Daring us to move

In my mind

I hear the music still

Feeling the sound

And the pulse

Of the crowd

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013

The Heart Will Beat Till It Don’t

The sun will burn till it doesn’t

The heart will beat till it don’t

Worry is a thing I wouldn’t

Do because I won’t

Manage the details and aspects

Of that I cannot control

So I’ll let the world sort through it’s cycles

And easy the burden and toll

Of the weight that sometimes builds up

At the base of my neck and my spine

Listening to wind, rain, and earth’s hum

My thoughts once again mine

Gene G. McLaughlin 2013