The madness is starting, again.
Dribble drives, lots of jumpers, screaming fans.
The energy will be all consuming
Game after game after game

The bets will be in
Some will cash big, others not so much.
The games will go on
And none of the athletes will get paid.

Hmmm…

people hotel bar drinks
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Some have said,
“He’s a current event poet,”
I guess meaning
My writing is about what’s happening now.

Okay.

Topical, that’s what it is
Hitting on the highs and lows
Of life in a routine, searching,
Trying to find if there is meaning.

True.

So these things happen,
I write about them,
Maybe changing details,
Maybe creating better versions of a day.

Absolutely.

Yet none of it is true,
Not the absurdities,
Not the bawdiness,
Not the lies.

Maybe.

Perhaps there were pigs and gunny sacks,
There could have been equine prancing,
Would growlers even have a place on the same day
As fashion conversations between aging men bellied up to the sty.

Huh?

Random thoughts inspired by concrete days
Make the miserable bearable through
Inspired laughter about the ridiculousness
Of the lives we lead.

Say, again?

Look, stuff happens,
It gets illuminated here,
It gets amplified there,
If it really ever happens.

You’re losing me…

No, find your meaning in poetry,
The poet says something only known to the medium,
The reader determines what the poem means
Through interpretation and reflection.

Ah…

Yes, the stories of a day
Can tell a bunch about us individually,
How we see the world,
How we lived our experiences.

Makes sense…

So go figure out why your boss is not at the game,
Throw batting practice on an off day,
Wash down drool with snooty beer, and find
The perfect inspirations to describe manicured lawns.

I will.

orange cat sleeping on white bed
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I’m calling, “Uncle,”
“Mercy,”
“Please let it end,”
Whatever it takes
To give me a bit of rest.

I’ve gotten to the point
Where the day is too full,
The nights not full enough,
And my desire for this pace
Waning at best.

Then, I think, “Just take a day,”
But back where the brown fat burns
The motivators are hissing, “Be uncommon,”
“Stick with it,”
“Pox.”

I hear them all
Knowing they mean something
As they drown out my voices
Of doubt and comfort
While the loudest, Tired, plays its game.

“Take a day,”
“You need the rest,”
“You can make it up,”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You’re too old.”

Mercy it must be out there somewhere,
A day off from waking, running, working, and coaching
Or maybe its time to double down and
Just keep going since
All things eventually pass.

It’s in us,
Powers,
We have them,
Natural, organic,
They are there
Waiting to be found,
Actualized, reclaimed.

We need to bring them back,
Kindness,
Hardwork,
Toughness,
Adventurousness,
Honesty, and integrity

We need to believe in us,
Our abilities,
Not sham politicians,
Self-aggrandizing celebrites,
Faux faith leaders.
It’s within us,
Everyone.