Creatures of the Sun

Scarab rolls its ball of dung
inseminating it with its young.
Its capriccio rises to the dawn.
Its immortality the rising sun.

Hawk then soars above the land:
over rivers, mountains, oceans, sands.
And elightens us with its rays.
Hawk will guide your way.

Dusk then falls upon the snake
who apostates without mistake.
And onto autumn the setting song
until darkness rebirths the dawn

https://www.poetry.com/poem/225151/creatures-of-the-sun

On Death and Family

They bury my grandma today next to my grandfather at the national cemetery. My dads gone and now both my grandparents. My aunt is the only one left and it saddens me deeply. I was very close to my fathers side of my family. Knowing I will never walk into their house again is a great loss. But I know everything I need to overcome this grief and build myself up into a better version of myself was taught to me by them. 

My grandparents were two of the most beautiful people to ever walk this earth. My grandfather lived a hard life. He had every reason to be bitter but found meaning in his tribulations.

He grew up in absolute poverty. His mother died at around the age of eight. His father had mental health issues and eventually abandoned his eight kids on the family farm. His oldest siblings had to step up big. But they managed and all of them lived rich lives as a result.

His older brother was a German translator under Patton in North Africa. He didn’t work directly under Patton but was a few chains of command removed.

His older sister wrote a book on nursing. She later married a nuclear physicist who died young from radiation poisoning. She never remarried but instead travelled the world.

And my grandfather became a mechanical engineer before the Korean War. But he didn’t care for the militaries style of leadership. And after the war, while working as a draftsman on planes for a civilian hanger, decided to become a minister. 

It was then that he met my grandmother and future wife. Both were career driven and neither married until well into their thirties. My grandmother a nurse, my grandfather a spiritual healer; both were driven to help others heal. It was the bond that cemented their love for one another. But even after all the tragedy that was my grandfathers childhood, his adult life was equally filled with heartache.  

They waited to long too start a family. So they adopted my dad and not long after, my grandmother was pregnant with a boy. But that boy was born with down syndrome and died very young. It left a deep scar on all three if their hearts.  

My father learned on his own about his adoption while snooping through their bedroom. It left him with deep trust issues and a sense of not belonging that spiraled into drug abuse that lead to an early death. 

And I know my grandfather felt that he failed my father. But my grandfather went blindly into fatherhood. My dad was a troubled child and I know my grandfather did everything in his power to become the father he never had. The father he always dreamt of having. And even after all of that, my father had a will of his own. If it wasn’t my uncles passing then something else might have trigged his path.

Regardless of the outcomes, we can only control what we can control. And I never blamed my grandfather for the path my father chose. The best of my own father was when he was living in the light of my grandfathers leadership. And my grandpa was over six foot seven in his prime. Those are big shoes to fill. His hands like bear maws. Those were a different breed of men. 

But despite all of the what could have been, my grandparents forged an everlasting bond over the death of their son. They later adopted my aunt and made the best of their situation. 

And most importantly, used their grief to help others heal from their own. It became their life work. It kept them together and kept them going. 

My grandfather would have handled that loss better. But he couldn’t handle others taking pity on him. He would have had to keep his mind from wondering by travelling around, meeting new people and shedding his wisdom. But it would have only been a matter of time before his turn was next. 

Unfortunately, my grandpa died last year after a nasty fall. But he out lived all his siblings in age. And a year afterwards, my grandma too was ready to go. 

Over this weekend, my aunt read a letter my grandfather wrote my grandmother for mothers day. I heard the voice of a complete man and human being. 

And while their funerals were small in attendance. They touched more lives over the decades then that could have ever filled that church. They would have wanted it this way. Because they weren’t driven by money, power, or influence. What drove them was Gods work and now their work is complete. 

Gods speed Grandma. You will always be loved. Not a year will go by that I won’t live in the footsteps of their guidance. They were the wealthiest people I have ever known. 

Joke of the Day, The One that Got Away

 I will never forget the one who got away. She was exotic, cute and fluffy. If I only had the balls at the time, I would have caught that Pokemon. 

Its hard to believe how well Pokemon has cemented itself into Western Culture. Growing up, Pokemon and video games in general was something the dorky kids did; while it was still common for normal kids to be outside exploring nature and enjoying sports. 

In the late nineties up into the early two-thousands, us neighborhood kids would get together in play games like Kick the Can. Basically everyone would hide and one person would have to find everybody. When someone was caught, they would have to stand near the can. Those still unfound would try and sneak out to kick the can over. If you successfully kicked the can over before being caught, everyone would hide again. 

The opposite is Ghost in the Graveyard. One person would hide while everyone else would hunt them down. If they caught you and successfully tagged you. You became the new Ghost and would have to go hide.

But steadily video games and card games creeped into popular culture. The school eventually banned Pokemon cards during recess. They told us recess was meant for physical activities. Which is fair considering we were a bunch of kids with pent up energy. But more likely kids were stealing cards and picking fights. 

Regardless, the games helped build strong bonds. I've had fun playing card games and video games but the outdoor games are a different experience. I don't see the neighborhood kids outside much anymore. The youth needs to bring these games back even put their own spin on it. Try it, its fun!

My Most Popular Poem, The Pearl

Empty shells

put here 

in this world

until shifting sands

creates something

coveted in this world.

And polished souls

can be bought 

with a pound of gold

until one is emptier 

than once before.

Added to a chain

the body owned;

however the soul

is never taken

only loaned.

For in due time

sands recollect

and a new pearl 

is born.

The Internet is the Library of Alexandria

I wrote poems since I was a school boy. I still have song lyrics I wrote back my freshman year of high school. And I still write a ton today. I've never really stopped. It gnaws at my character when I don't and while I try to find balance between work and art, it gets tricky at times. This is one of those times.

Its sad. I had published over 100 poems on the website poetry.com starting about 15 years ago. Many were just bad poems. They exposed negative aspects to my character, my attitude, my writing process. I had to work hard on those things and quit publishing over a decade ago. 

But last week I went on poetry.com and found my entire profile deleted. They didn't even bother rolling my old profile over and a poem to let everyone know I'm part of this community. Instead they excommunicated both me and my entire output. 

Its one thing to not like me or my poems but its an entirely different dynamic for a platform to decide what qualifies as art on their platform. 

It does not show a deeper instinct for understanding. Just because poetry.com doesnt value my work doesn't mean my fellow poets dont. It say to me that poetry.com doesn't really care about the community they claim to serve. And I knew that over a decade ago. Thats why I kept a lot of poems and have published them elsewhere. 

Honestly, the people who manage poetry.com are fools. They only believe in the timelessness within the public domain. The artists who have already established themselves now long dead. That way the sponsorship gives poetry.com a sense of free prestige without actually contributing anything in return.

What they should be doing is elevating the poets who have contributed on their website. They should be encouraging their poet community to start workshops and publish books that they support and market on their platform. That's a way more respectable approach to this type of business. 

I have no issue with the platforms making a profit but to demoralize the artists craft to a cute hobby regulated by cold calculations does not show any long term value for poetry.com moving forward. It exposes their short term gains at the detriment of the artists long term pains. 

Now if you utilize poetry.com in the short term and contribute back to the community, it'll help everyone become a better person and poet. And then take those works and seek financial success elsewhere because obviously poetry.com is a roach motel. They don't want you seeking publication elsewhere and even if you placate to their demands. Theirs a good chance they'll delete your profile to save room on their servers. 

Ironically, the only way for poetry.com to honor your poetry long term is for the poets to reach Robert Frost, T.S. Elliot level of success once its in the public domain.

Aztalan State Park, Jefferson Wi