HUMAN DRAIN

HUMAN DRAIN

I am fast becoming a human drain,
Soaking up the kindness of others,
A stopped up rancid human drain,
And if I truly had my druthers,
I’d go elsewhere to ply my sucking trade,
Can someone please tell me,
Are leeches born or are they made?

Alan Harper can manipulate backs,
But all I’m good for is stepping on cracks.
In this household there’s one and a half men,
I have lost one half of who I was,
It’s up and left me just because,
And all the king’s horses and all his men,
Cannot make me whole again.

I am alas a hapless human drain,
With cells dying off in my hapless brain,
The cells that fire the movement sweet,
That fuel the muscles of hands and feet.

And so I’m always spilling drinks,
I stumble a bit too much methinks.
A mishap waiting on the stairs,
That giant sucking sound is me,
Draining coffers unawares.

The health insurance bleeds me dry,
Leaving nothing left to spare,
I drown in the bills for a myriad of ills,
While I sit and wait for Medicare.
I make too much for Medicaid,
It’s the same old tantrum and tirade.

I know Merle Haggard said it best,
And now the phrase sounds borrowed and trite,
But if I can make it ‘til December,
Everything will be all right.

And now I’m stealing from ‘ole Merle,
It’s a mixed up crazy misshaped world.
If he wants to sue, he’ll have to get in line,
I haven’t the pith or the patience for original rhymes.
I am, after all, a human drain, working overtime.

I used to make a decent living,
Though I’ve never been a rich man,
But I’ve never been such a pauper
In such a patchwork land.
Where paying one’s own way
Involves a cunning sleight of hand.
I am a human drain,
Made of detritus and quicksand.

I am alas a human drain,
Art won’t pay the bills,
And poetry alas is dead,
There is no gold in them thar hills.

I just have one question,
Then I’m off to ply my sucking trade,
Can someone kindly tell me,
Are leeches born or are they made?

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EVEN TEARS EVAPORATE

EVEN TEARS EVAPORATE

Every dragon has his day, and every beast its prey,
And though the lessons come too late, even tears evaporate,
Exploding into the morning mist, like a clenched and homophobic fist,
Like a prism for a paper weight, adjusted too in rainbow hues,
The sadness passes as it must, into evening’s pixie dust.

Somehow we pull it all together, radiant and just in time.
There is some strange and muted, seemingly random rhyme,
The universe it seems to know the limits of what we can bear,
And like the sun behind the clouds, in the darkness God is there

Take it from one with the foot stool in place,
Peering over heaven’s transom,
Take it from this midnight soul, broken and so damaged
For every soul there is a ransom,
A shining refuge from the ravages.

Take it from one with a hole in his heart,
Sometimes your world’s a hopeless renegade,
Steeped in its own downward, dark parade.
Sometimes your life must stop before it can restart,
Your hard drive missing a crucial part.

Somehow we pull it all together,
Like the magician and his rabbit,
Practice makes perfect the adage goes,
Make happiness your habit,
And wear it as the nun wears hers,
Until the joy in your heart it stirs.

Every dragon has his day,
Make each of yours the Chinese New Year,
Though the lessons come and go too late,
And you sometimes wonder why you’re here,
Manhandled and marooned on an island far away,
A broken rusty compass in your pocket wants to play.
Insistent as the hungry mouse,
Give it the run of your ramshackle house.

Soon you will find that love finds its way,
Into the most protected of rooms.
The ones you thought you’d padlocked and sealed off like a tomb.
Soon you will find a life like no other,
A special good luck charm,
To see the world through Irish eyes,
A’smilin’ as they take your arm.

Soon you will find a shiny new end to your story,
The loneliness replaced with love,
The sorrow with new glory.
The dismantling of the time bomb, the end to fear and hate.
Every dragon has his day, and even tears evaporate.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I CAN STOP ANYTIME

I CAN STOP ANYTIME

Listen here you, I can stop anytime,
Writing my life in couplets and rhyme,

You in my face, waving your fist,
I am always quite ready to cease and desist.

And while I am at it in a fit of rage,
I can kindly dismantle my Facebook page.

I can bury my head like an ostrich in the sand,
Can discard my dreams and my best laid plans,
Can cut the computer cord and blindly set sail,
To the brave old world of yesteryear,
No I-Phone and no email.

Like the Unibomber’s cousin but without all the drama,
More like a monk or the Dalai Lama,
I can stop anytime and set myself free,
From the troublesome bondage of technology.

Without a 12 step program or an exercise bike,
I can stop, I can stop anytime that I like.
But I’d soon have no friends, for they’d all be online,
Chasing down cat videos, saving their time.
Finding a mate or at least a state of grace,
In the hallowed world of Apple,
In the confines of cyberspace.

Listen here you, I can bear it no more,
When was the last time your face graced my door?
I have to wager with a heave and a sigh,
It’s because in this house, there is no free WiFi.
That’s why we meet at this little coffee dive,
On the far edge of town, on the pish-posh east side.
No one else in the world around,
Just you and me with our noses down.
Lost in the Internet gossip and the wallet draining brew,
I can stop anytime, I’m not sure about you.

I can tear down this blog with its readership of two,
I can stop anytime, but then what would I do?
On damp rainy Sundays when the boyfriend’s away,
How would I manage without Castleville to play?

Listen here you, I could go on a rampage,
Fueled by my boredom, egged on by my rage,
And meanwhile my exploits you could read about and boast,
Send me emails in prison from the Huffington Post.
Its big and bold headlines thrill and delight,
And maybe if my rampage is sufficiently vile,
Arianna herself will cover my trial.

But don’t get your freakin’ nose out of joint,
I think I’ve very wisely and succinctly made my point.
In big bold letters in Times New Roman font,
I can stop, I can stop anytime that I want.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: I am a big fan of social media and modern technology, (including
Facebook), but am not above spoofing them from time to time.
As long as they don’t totally replace in person human interaction,
all the cyber antics in the world are fine by me!