I guess I’m kinda old and I like simple things. I started out on a farm with no electricity or indoor plumbing, went through college and city life and am now back on the farm. This time with electricity and indoor plumbing.
I’ve lived long enough to recognize that most of our new-found social conscience is another series of fads. Like most fads they use one or two good (often great) ideas and carry them to unhealthy extremes. For example, here in the Northwest, saving our salmon is important enough for the government to get involved. However, the homeless kids and families on the street are the concern of someone else. Homelessness is not popular, the environment is.
Children in general are not too popular in a social way, however alternate lifestyles are. Child welfare services can go adrift and be poorly funded but we will spend lots of time and money on adults that have a much better chance of taking care of themselves. We will fight and scream and curse for popular fads while we calmly watch people wander and suffer, and hope someone is helping.
And, I’m no help either. When I start thinking about how we get led around like sheep by “social conscience,” I start writing a pithy poem that will turn the public tide. I just know it will be a masterpiece. However, it turns out to be silly. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s because society is so silly and so my poetry is more factual than I know.
That’s probably it. I live in fantasy and the only truth is in my poems. You might as well enjoy them, it’s the only taste reality you’ll get.
A very modern doctor / decided to reform, / instead of writing longhand / she used a data form. Prescriptions from her keyboard— / it seemed time-saving bliss. / But pharmacies sent them back, / …
A little spider climbed in my bed, / with lots of sheet to spare, / and ‘though I’m tired and want to rest, / I am not about to share.
I made a shoe for Mary Sue / in beautiful shades / of pink and blue, / with fine, fine leather, / and stitching too, / and filled it with love / for Mary Sue.
There was a guy, / happy I’m told, / he lived so long / he forgot to be old.
Yes, I can live so wild and free / because before me on TV, / I can pick any drug that’s nice, / to buy at extortionist price, / to fix my sex life or my knees. And if I can’t afford to pay, / …
I know a lady who likes to ride / on a horse with me beside. / The horse goes bare, and so does she. / But I wear socks up to my knees.