The day was seductive.
Maybe I felt too good.
You’re always second-guessing your mood
When you have bipolar disorder
I don’t think I’m manic
A day like today can make a guy think money doesn’t matter
That a life devoted to liberal arts is a good idea
Make you shrug off for a moment the debt you undertook
And you’re still paying on your education 27 years later,
That 17 years of your life in school, impoverished,
Did something good to your soul, and it is a good idea
To do something good to your soul
That jamming on keys with a blues guitar player all morning
And a walk in the park with a sober friend, talking
On a sunny, 75-degree day
Would make you feel so good you question whether you’re manic,
Forget that you’re years past due for a teeth cleaning
That you can’t get the root canal and a few crowns
And though your home is Canada, you used the remaining balance
On your American credit card to pay for your oil change
That just yesterday I went out for a cup of tea instead of breakfast
SEDUCTION
14 Sep 2021 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: bipolar, debt, education, liberal arts, manic, money, music, poem, poverty, sober
PLOUGHMEN DIG NOT FOR ME
22 Dec 2020 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: art, dreams, making, material, money, music, poem, real, reality
Businessmen do not drink my wine
The man in the suit has not bought a new car
From any profit he made off my dreams
Though dreams I have, have dreamed, dream
I’ve imbibed conventional wisdom’s grasp on the vitality of dreams
That dreams make a life out of otherwise existence
Aethereal dreams awaken into materiality, matter’s reality;–all real
Nobody can doubt the reality of a dream and live
One doesn’t dream in terms written by dollars and status
Defined in the lexicon legislated by ledger books
Businessmen withdraw from intangibles that weigh golden hopes
Dream reality resists materialism and yet materializes
Whole symphonies deconstruct as ones and zeros in a cloud somewhere
And Bach’s C-Moll Passacaglia is pulses of air
But digital scans and air differentials don’t explain to ears
The mystery that is a melody—even if construed through standing wave proportions
Sometimes my pen dreams in ink dots materializing on a musical staff
The keys on my piano reverberate beats my heart feels
Manifesting the immaterial into the physical world
While air waves question what they, themselves, are doing
At other times, words grow out of my consciousness
Planted in ink and tree pulp tending to a poem’s making
My pen glides across the blank, white sheet in dark lines
To become a dream of some distant reader in my mind: a virtual reality
Nobody pays me for my dreams. No.
I grunt and sweat under a heavy timeclock on my back
No ploughman digs earth for me
I’ve dug my own footings on which the whole world is built for me
My grandmother told me I wasn’t very good at making money
When I was an impoverished grad student
Even now, I don’t make much money, nor have creditable prospects
Yet I’m good at making, dreaming, making dreams live
Making for me is as making money for businessmen
I’m good at living without much money, without much interest in making money
Dreams pay me more than dollars, when I have money
I lack really for nothing but dreams fulfill
IN THE PEAK OF COVID-19
07 May 2020 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: activity, ambition, COVID-19, edit, free verse, incentive, job, money, poem, poetry, publishers, reading, sloth, time
What was that I needed to get done today?
Well, nothing really—I can barely remember
When they shut us down, shut down my ambition
–“I have to what?!”—”Do what?!”–
That mandated sloth that tells me stall, stop
So I slouch upon my couch, and pass time
At times, I take the time to touch base
With a treasured book—which I never would have
Chasing time filled with needless activity
Chasing a job, a dollar, more money
No money and nothing to spend it on—
I would go to the mall, the bookstore, the casino
And with a home library filled with good books
I never did read, read now—sometimes
When I can find the incentive
And my poems that I organize to send out
Re-read, fix, edit,–search out publishers
When I can’t find the incentive
And just slouch upon the couch
And watch TV that I don’t like
Don’t like not doing what I want to get done
This mandated sloth, this slovenly lost ambition
Not even waiting for it all to be over
Just waiting on time, making time, taking time, time to get something done
Plenty to get done today, and nothing, really
THE LESSON FOR TODAY (Not Necessarily a Poem)
10 Aug 2019 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: ;oem, ecstasy, money, painting, profits, Sunflowers, Van Gogh, wealth
Dollars and debts and interest compounding
Stocks and bonds and dividends
The bottom line and profit margins and markets
The economic drive some ride into obscene wealth
The likes of these bought Van Gogh’s Sunflowers
For the highest price ever in the ‘80’s
While Van Gogh, himself, died impoverished
Having sold only one painting in his lifetime
The likes of Van Gogh aren’t concerned with
Dollars and debts and interest compounding
His ecstasy was discovering how to paint a tree
The purchase of Sunflowers contributed to the GDP
But the production of the same didn’t
Obscene profits are no real incentive
LIFE IS
06 Aug 2019 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: adulthood, calling, dream passion, job, life, maturity, money, poem, poetry, power, youth
Life is not
The acquisition of money, material possessions
Life is
The pursuit of a passion
A life’s dream, a contribution to society
In youth, it is the pursuit of a job
A career, a profession, a calling
In adulthood, it is the maintenance of a lifestyle
In maturity, you realize that life is a pastime
And along the way, it can be
The accumulation of experiences you will be happy to remember
But, in truth, life is
The formation of the kind of person you want to be,
Learning who that is
To be and become who that is
By means of and through and despite
What life will bring your way
To be and become who that is
By whatever powers or Power you know
Reflections about Money
03 Jan 2019 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: Hemingway, higher education, money, Pink Floyd, poverty, rock music
For 3/4 of my adult life I’ve lived in poverty. My impoverished life, though, was of my own making. I was chasing a goal–education–and that was why I ended up poor.
I resented my poverty quite a bit, when I was in school. I didn’t see why poverty was a necessary condition for education. The English department at my university had a motto, “Going for broke!” Back then, I spoke with a young woman once, and asked her if she were considering Ph.D. studies. She said that she wasn’t. When I asked her why, she replied, “I don’t want to spend the next 8 years of my life in poverty.” However, pursuing the goal of higher education made my poverty bearable. I had a higher purpose; it transcended the pecuniary world. I tried to make myself feel better by thinking about Hemingway, and his poverty in Paris while he was learning to write. Nobody likes poverty; but when one likes a calling more than money, one accepts one’s condition.
Now I have a comfortable income. That has been for 12 years out of my 40 adult years. I am still getting used to the feeling of having enough money, in fact more than I need. But I am still pursuing a higher purpose, though, with my money. I am recording a disk of my original music. And that is draining a considerable amount of my income. Some might consider this an extravagance, in that I’m not a professional musician and I’m not in a band. But even as higher education is not always a money-making endeavor, but a meaningful pursuit, so music is not always a money-making endeavor, but art is a meaningful pursuit. And without the CD project, I don’t know what I would do with the several thousands I am investing in this enterprise. And for me, the purpose of money is to be used–not just possessed.
Most people secure gainful employment at a young age and spend most of their lives financially set. I think self-image for many depends on money. Sociologists have given us status labels. They made up the categories, “upper-class; middle-class; lower-class.” In doing so, they told us how we were to think of ourselves. I try not to measure my self-worth by money. But when I was an impoverished student, always riding in the back-seat of someone else’s car, not being able to buy “nice things,” not being able to take a girl out on a date, I felt worthless. This, despite my higher calling, higher education. My brother, a rich engineer, told me, “It’s only money.” That didn’t help. Now that I’m in a good financial place, I don’t think about money at all, don’t measure myself by money.
Growing up, my generation disdained money. The rock music of my time sung songs against materialism and money (Pink Floyd wrote a song with that for a title). We talked about love and peace; looked to get back to Nature. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t pursue money in my life, but went for more spiritual acquisitions. I made my bed and I’m happy to sleep in it. Everybody makes their own bed. They must sleep in it, and hopefully they are happy to, as I am.
A Future Blues Song
09 Jul 2018 Leave a comment
in Blog Tags: blues, broke, lyrics, money, music, payday
Broke Again
Broke again, and a week until payday
Broke again and I don’t know where it went
Broke again, and a week until payday
Got nothing to show and my money’s all spent
I have a good time till the money’s all gone
I have a good time, I just do as I please
I have a good time till the money’s all gone
And I’m all out of cash and I’m feeling the squeeze
I’m struggling till payday, don’t know what I’ll do
I’m struggling till payday, how will I get by?
I’m struggling till payday, don’t know what I’ll do
It all costs too much for a regular guy