VACANCY

 VACANCY

These days I just can't concentrate,

My thoughts shot down like beer cans on a fencepost,

Suicide bombers falling to the ground,

Making a lost and lonely sound that only I can hear.

Afraid of giving in to the false god of fear

But, oh, it does get lonely, and in the night I scream,

Awakened by a nightmare or a waking dream.

Wondering if I am wearing that infamous Parkinson's mask

Too tired to really care too much, too proud maybe to ask.

I'm like a vanquished soldier or a broken, bent oak tree,

Like a ghost that haunts an old hotel, adorned in vacancy.

 

I find myself half blind, squinting at my screen

Blurry the words, they tease and teem

Have several different eye diseases,

But I don't know what they mean,

Corneal epithelial basement membrane,

Did I spend too much time downstairs?

Saltzmann's nodular dystrophy of both eyes,

No wonder I get stares.

Irregular astigmatism of both eyes,

I should win some kind of prize.

Nuclear sclerosis of both eyes too.

I know it sounds like it's a lot, but what's a boy to do?

Like some deluded dreamer beneath the hickory tree

My eyes stare blankly straight ahead, awash in vacancy.

These days my nerves are worn and frayed,

I shun the sun and crave the shade 

lf someone doesn't like me, that's cool

I have Iess time to suffer fools,

I'll just pull up stakes and go my way,

Try to celebrate each day. 

Floating above the scorched hot ground,

Breaking ancient barriers of sound.

I still have dignity, still have my pride,

In a world where hopes and dreams collide.

I'm stolid and solid and in my heart I know I have the key,

To open up this ghost hotel, to fill this vacancy.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note:  I am under the care of an ophthalmologist for the above mentioned eye issues.

OH JOY, UNBRIDLED JOY

OH JOY, UNBRIDLED JOY

Oh joy, unbridled joy, to be born in this day and age.

The earth it sings to you and me, its wisdom strong and sage.                    

Your future could go either way on this your next trip through,

Whatever lives you have lived before right now ere lost to you.

Your heart your only compass will tell you what to do.

Steeped in fabled wisdom, the Chef prepares his stew.

Oh joy, unbridled joy, to live out in the world,

Your footsteps treading brave new paths,

The desert sands they simmer and swirl,

The oceans flaunt their oyster pearls,

Many mysteries lurk in this sainted salty brine,

The path unfolds before you, the golden sunlight shines and shimmers,

The moon and stars they sparkle, at eventide they waltz and glimmer.

Like a mobile around a baby's cradle, steady, sure it twirls,

The years they come and the years they pass, nothing golden ever lasts.

Into each life comes a little pain, some drenching rain falls down,

Testing out your mettle with a strange discordant sound.

On you venture undeterred, you find your life's sweet calling,

With manna from heaven falling, you feed your hungry soul,

You find friends and lovers, you surrender control,

You dream, deduce and reproduce, you sometimes play it fast and loose,

On your shoulders you carry the weight of the scales,

Dreams die and diminish and sometimes they disappear,

As the plrate ships let out their sails,

You stand in strange astonishment and wonder what you're doing here.

Why the pirates they peruse and plunder and secret away your treasure

Hiding from you your passion, your purpose and your pleasure.

Oh joy, sweet joy, at last you have turned old,

The winters and autumns also have their charms

When truth and authenticity are the gifts that fill our arms.

We gather at  the coffee house to share our aches and pains,

Illness comes, infirmities thin our waning ranks,

For each extra day of life we prayerfully give thanks.

Finally into the atmosphere. at last we die and disappear,

Floating as pure spirit in the august holy winds,

Living lifted out of time, the cycle it begins again.

Grace has been achieved at last, its shining light reflected,

At last we stand at God's right hand, our spirits now perfected.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WAGE PEACE FIERCELY

 WAGE PEACE FIERCELY

The consciousness of peace floats, almost unnoticed,

Over greed and industry, and their vain splashy showing

The consciousness of peace                

Concerned only with strong, silent knowing.

Not worried about displays of might,

Extolling quietly the good and the right

Peaceful resistance not bombs, to fill the skies at night

The consciousness of war is proud and boastful.

Grandiose showa of dazzling strength and power,

The torture and the war crimes, the trampling of the flowers,

The consciousness of war is enamored of its might,

Parading on display on the streets of D.C., of North Korea, of the U.S.S.R.

The consciousness of war shoots missiles under cover of night.

Destroying hospitals and schools, the bastions of the innocent, 

Women, children and the elderly, are felled by its armaments.

Blood soaked streets that reek with carnage and the stale odor of smoke,

Noxious fumes that strangle and choke.

War prisoners tortured within inches of their lives

Making widows and widowers of husbands and wives.

The consciousness of war sometimes is necessary,

To defend against Fascism and all in its path

After much consideration and doing the math,

After much deliberation in situation rooms and Parliaments,

Not undertaken lightly by ambitious greedy malcontents,

Clamoring for newfound status and acquisition of land,

The consciousness of war haunts gentle forests and desert sands.

Consciousness of war too easily gains the upper hand.

Meanwhile the consciousness of peace longs for its day,

Circling quietly above the noise and the fray.

A viable choice is that of nonviolence,

Peace eschews the torrid twins of revenge and recompense.

What say you, discouraged earth, recipients of the scourge of battle,

As cannons fire, missiles fall and dreaded sabers rattle?

The blood of the wounded, maimed and dead echo in chorus, 

Imploring you consider, heed us absolutely.

And wage peace fiercely, calmly, resolutely.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

QUERIES

 QUERIES 

Oftentimes I wonder, when I'm in my bed and all alone,

Why I cannot pierce the veil

Between this world and the next.

The lone survivor now of my immediate family,

My mother, father and brother somewhere out in the stratosphere

As well as my beloved dog Lee.

None of them seem bothered to get in touch with me.

I consider myself a Christian at the very least,

at the very best a Christ-like Buddhist, 

So it seems I'd be a prime candidate for a visitation.

Please Daddy, don't get drunk on nectar and amrbrosia

And spend your time on navel gazing and cloud surfing,

Forgetting you had two sons, one of them still here on earth,

With nary a thought of me down here below

Please, Mother, don't forget to pack me a lunch

To prepare a bed for me in heaven, the ultimate happy place,

Brother please send me a caustic quip, 

And my dog please come and lick my face.

It is lonely here without you and I need some reassurance,

Some kind of vision or waking dream, a bright light

Illuminating my room when the darkness threatens io overoome.

Please put down your chalices of strong celestial rum,

You are spirits now so fly to me, make it like it used to be.

I scream and no one seems to listen

I wake up with sheets afire with sweat,

Skin so wet it glistens,

I refuse to think it could all be over,

Nothing but decaying flesh and ashes.

The pictures vivid in my brain, a memory it flashes.

I am here in my quiet room, waiting for spirits to tly 

Maybe now our worlds are separate, hidden by the veil

But I long for you to come to me, to liberate and set me free,

To quell my nagging doubts and fears, to satisfy my queries.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHT RESERVED

IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN

IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN

It all comes crashing down, like the madness on Wall Street.

Like the embarrassment of a fall, downward, head over feet.

Like the hailstones from heaven in a harsh summer storm,

Like the buzz from a beehive, how mighty the swarm.

My life dips and dives, my imbalance thrives,

No one gets out of this morass alive, 

Just yesterday I took a tumble while sitting in a chair,

Leaning over to rescue a crumb from the floor,

You can bet you won't see me do that anymore.

All I got for my trouble a sweet suite of bruises,

Lining up down my calf, cavalcade of contusions. 

It all crashes down, like a song poorly sung,

Like a fall from a ladder, the uppermost rung.

Like the wind from a twister, that batters and blisters.

A savage tsunami this way it comes,

Beating iis slow cacophonous drums.

That splinters and shatters the slow black of night,

Filled with resentment and spitting up spite.

Over the vastness of time and of space,

Bitterness filling its sad ugly face.

Like Musk with his chainsaw leaves life in tatters

Your job is demolished, your sanity scatters,

Nothing is sacred and nothing much matters.

Like Trump with his tariffs ruins the day,

With the click of a keyboard does away with free trade,

Threatens immigration and settling old scores,

The terror of ICE agents beatiing down doors.

Life it bears a heavy cost, and he who hesitates is lost.

It's hard to rise and stay around, when it all comes crashing down.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ELON MUSK IS WATCHING YOU

ELON MUSK IS WATCHING YOU

Careful what you say or do,

For Elon Musk is watching you,

From the keyhole of his keyboard.

He looks at you and smirks

Trusty chainsaw by his side

He conducts his dirty works.

He's slashing here, slashing there,

In fact he's slashing everywhere 

Scientists and soldiers, Medicaid and Medicare

He answers to no one but The Donald, Mr. Trump

Elected in part by Elon's cash and speeches on the stump.

Elon he is quick to lay intentions on the line.

He has quickly learned to be quite concerned with how you spend your time

He'll have your job if you don''t comply, and list your bullet points of five, 

Tell him your accomplishments and prove your inner worth,

To illustrate that you deserve to walk his precious earth,

To breathe the hallowed air he breathes and to believe what he believes

It gives him pure unbridled bliss, to get up in your business.

Are you fit to drive a Tesla, do you know your place

Or are you just a relic taking up precious space. 

Musk the de facto President was not even elected.

But that doesn't stop him from being protected

By the orange clown and criminal who occupies the White House

Together they conspire to pour fuel upon the fire,

A cunning conflagration that cannot be doused.

Yet it's become quite clear to see, they're ruining the economy.

By slashing with a chainsaw, the hope and promise of it all.

Though you probably don't believe it's true,

Both Musk and Trump are stalking you.

Musk wears a sporty MAGA cap perched high upon his head, 

Has fathered fourteen children some with gals he never wed

One kid who dared rudely tell the President to shut up,

To say in just a quiet inkling what most of us were only thinking.

Wiping snot from his nose on the President's desk,

While Musk appeared to suffer the child and ignore the holy mess.

So go your way and live your life with your husband or your wife,

Cover up your keyholes, as the sun sets purple in the sky,

Watch the birds that circle, so graceful as they fly

Just know he's out there, chainsaw ready, no matter what you do, 

As darkness falls upon the land, Elon Musk is watching you.

-Bruce Potts   

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

 EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

(FOR KYLE, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY) 

Everything hurts these days but you

The hips especially, having been ravaged by falls

The arms from the stiffness when the meds do not work.

The legs rigid as stout little toothpicks-

 On their slow journey to nowhere  

Everything hurts, like the loss of my brother

Cruelly cut down in his prime.

I had hoped and prayed we would have more time

But the gods who deal out life and death

Who micromanage human breath

Made the decision to spirit him away

And everything it hurts but you in the naked light of day.

Everything hurts but you, like my lower back and spine,

Who conspire at length against me, the cheater and his concubine;

Everything hurts like the blow that I took to the head

When I  fell in the bathroom and copiously bled

Down came the shower curtain, striking my head with the sharp end of the rod

I could have been a goner, but for the grace of God.

Everything hurts but you, like the dyskinesias that threaten to tear me limb from limb,

When the meds are working overtime, and my feet they move like mayhem.

Through all of this, my love, there is you, ever stalwart and  ever true,

You bravely walk beside me on this twisted path of pain 

Through the damaging winds and the driving rain that always falls in spurts

You are my treasured talisman that heals and never hurts.

You slow me down and calm my heart with a warm and wondrous glow.

And today on this your birthday,  I just thought that you should know.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED