Dried Fruits & Half An Octopus

 

—Poetry by Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) and Joseph Nolan

—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan

No creatures from the sea or other-wheres were

harmed in the making of this blog.

THROWN TO THE DOGS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

first draft, unedited.
haphazardly connected
elements of verbal
communication

thrown out to the always-
obedient, non-judgmental
dogs like the smell of raw
meat escaping somewhere
within range of a canine’s nose

the most politically incorrect
dialog the world has ever
seen is thus gobbled up,
no more than a tasty snack
for a liar’s best friend

the trick worked! do it again,
double down, over and over,
like it is the new normal
civilization be damned
let them eat garbage

 

 

 

 

 

TONGUE-TIED TANTRUM
—Caschwa

I had some great dialog
ready to fit into verse
then time came and went
and it got way too cold
so I burned the log
and the burn got too big
so I tended the flames
and scorched my fingers
damn heat, anyway!!

 

 

 

 

 

HALF AN OCTOPUS
—Caschwa

one
could
write a
brilliant
piano piece
for four hands
and after all that
stupendous effort
watch in dire horror
as half an octopus is
seated at the keyboard

or on the Supreme Court

or one could amass the battle-tested
expertise from each of the five-star
generals who won the last two
world wars, only to have the
awesome glow from all the
shiny war medals pinned
to their shirts highlight
the fact that suicide
bombers will win
the argument if
one makes a
grandiose
display of
killing
them 

 

 

 

 

HILLSDALE BLVD.
—Caschwa

metaphor for many streets:
un-penalized infractions
beg escalating repeats
the law’s form of actions
are inconsequential feats
having no more traction
than metronome beats

tick tock, speed sign, tick tock
speed sign, the landscape
of easily ignored talk
canary cage darkened drape
line in sand drawn with chalk
radar monitor is an ape
paws on belly, mouth forms gawk

every moment, every day
speeders enjoy a privilege
no one looking, no price to pay
bending rules to the very edge
no traffic cops come that way
“see no evil” must be their pledge
honor system, come what may

the most that you will ever see
are electronic speed signs
putting a number to your glory
quite the opposite of land mines
feeding carrion to eternity
forget about those tickets and fines
speeders achieve longevity 

 

 

 

 

 

DRIED FRUITS
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

Some raisins,
Some prunes,
Some dried apricots,
Grow in boxes,
Just the way they seem,
When you go to eat them.

Wrinkled, though
They may be,
They’ve been
Just like that
For half-of-an-eternity
And never
Required drying
To get their shriveled looks.

It’s a myth,
You see,
That anything as sweet as they,
Required preparation.
They were just born that way!

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT BECOMES OF ZEROS?
—Joseph Nolan

Exactly, what
Becomes of zeros,
When they
Fall mute
On a floor
And no-one
Wants them,
Anymore?
 
When they
Can’t fit
An equation,
Are part of
No solution
To any problem,
As they were,
Before? 

 

 

 

 

 

TOWARD THE GREATER-GOOD
—Joseph Nolan

There are
Shoulds and coulds and oughtas,
Of things we would or would not do,
If we only had the wisdom,
To see our vain way through,

What we really wanna,
To what we really need
And also, for our brothers,
For whom our hearts do bleed,

When we see their suffering,
And wish to lend a hand,
Offering, not clumsily,
To interfere, offend.

Oh!
To know the proper measure,
What to give and to withhold,
Compassion, tinged with wisdom,
All toward the greater-good.

 

 

 

 

 

SINCE THERE IS MORE
—Joseph Nolan

I have lingered
In a river
That leads
Into an ocean,
But I never
Got to see
The endless sea.

I have felt
The flowing current,
The ebb and flow
Of changing tides,
But never understood
The mystery, besides.

I have time
To go swimming
In refreshing waters
And catch my food
By fishing.
My boat
Is set off
On the shore

And though
I never got
To where I want to go,
I’m happy,
Nonetheless,
Since I know
There is more. 

 

 

 

 

 

THE RIVER OF COMPASSION
—Joseph Nolan

You can give it to yourself
Or withhold it, all your life.

You can’t ask for it from strangers
Or even from your wife.

It flows like a river
Throughout all your days
And would be your comfort
As though it were
The sun’s gentle rays,
Warming your weary bones,
Letting you know
You are never alone.

_____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

THE LOSS
—Joseph Nolan

We had a tiny window
For light to pity through,
Down into the darkness
Surrounding just we, two,
In our small apartment
That used to house
We, three,
But now, forever after,
We two would be
Bereaved.

_____________________

Thanks for today’s contributions from Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) and Joseph Nolan, as we travel toward the tail-end-tip of summer and this tawdry August!

Tonight (Mon. 8/30), 7:30pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Andy Laufer and Todd Boyd on Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462; Meeting ID: 763 873 3462; Passcode: r3trnofsdv/. Info: www.facebook.com/events/430872524906902/?ref=newsfeed/.

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

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 We’re still slithering around 

in smoke up here!