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Tuesday, October 20, 2020

 


Monday, October 12, 2020

 

…presents ‘Today’s Movie Review’:

 

Perhaps, like yours truly, you had never heard of the sequel to the Peter Sellers classic film, ‘Being There’ (based on the novel of the same name by Jerzy Kosinski). Maybe you, too, would have been caught as gleefully unaware as I was when I nearly stumbled over that very gem lying amid a misplaced pile of VHS tapes for sale right in the middle of the sidewalk in Chinatown!


It’s called ‘Being Here’ and is even more eerily prescient than the original. In that one, of course, Sellers played a simpleton named Chauncey Gardiner, or ‘Chance’, who is inadvertently drawn into a world of increasing political power – all the way to President – without ever actually having a clue about anything. This time around our hero is, hilariously, severely mentally ill. His name is Ronald D Clump, or ‘Clumpy’. The character, although purely fictional (so much so as to stretch our willingness to buy into the absurdity of the story far beyond any typical suspension of disbelief) nevertheless feels oddly familiar. Perhaps we should thank the sheer brilliance of the late Mr. Sellers for that. It’s worth watching for his performance alone.

Without giving too much away, I will tell you that our man ‘Clumpy’ blindly yet enthusiastically leads our country through a hair-raising series of mis adventures, including everything from plagues to burning infernos and devastating superstorms and tornados, to sexually groping to boundless, tumbling escapades with porn stars, from staggering incompetence to over-the-top corruption and authoritarian takeovers and crack downs… and more! Sure, many of the giggle-inspiring cheap cracks and gratuitous insults would never make it into a movie in today’s Hollywood – who would have thought racism and physical threats could ever be so funny? But all that is just the tip of the melting iceberg. Like with Clumpy himself, it may look like I’m giving it all away, but I’m not. Why, many of those seeing this wondrously preposterous flick won’t even realize they’re paying for it!

Unfortunately, the sound quality is a bit ‘off’ and the voices out of synch, not to mention that the musical score is more than a tad tiny. A bad copy? Perhaps… It’s a small price to pay compared to the exorbitant but totally fair amount I had to shell out to that poor gentleman there on the sidewalk. He didn’t seem to speak English and most likely didn’t realize how much this rare treasure is actually worth! Heck, the gold foil wrapping alone is bound to cost you!

Which is neither here nor there. That’s not what this rare masterpiece is all about, which, my good friends is (as the title says): Being Here!

Two thumbs up the old wazoo for this one!!!



Friday, July 24, 2020

Fall-Room Dancing

[seen through 2020 vision]

 

Dancing was an easy thing

until I fell face-first

and all the judges sneered and laughed

declaring me the worst

 

‘Aha!” I thought, ‘and there it is,

it’s a blessing, not a curse!

I can be a fool and fail

and still end up in first!’

 

As my nose, it bled, my throbbing head

exploded into verse:

‘There’s no need to think or care,

to ponder or rehearse!’

 

‘It’s just a waste of energy

to in logic get immersed,

you see, it’s what you want to see,

be it backward or reversed!’

 

Before I rose up off the floor

I’d declared myself alert,

my face, it smarted, but not my brain!

the truth no longer hurt

 

Call me a fool, it’s just a name,

but there’s no need to call a nurse,

especially not a mental one,

they’re judgmental and too terse

 

Then I stood up to proudly stand

there in my bloody shirt,

perhaps I cannot dance at all,

but talent’s just a curse

 

I say I won, and there you go!

your presumptions have been burst,

you can scream and wail and curse and all,

but reality’s been reversed!


Wednesday, May 11, 2016

White Swan



As I pull my way onto the bridge
a swan flies across and over it
something I have seen before
once, somewhere in a scattered past

Now she’s back
her neck craned
and huge wings
beating hard

She seems as if she’s soaring
relative to my misdirected path
making a mockery
of my transition

Colors are ceded to youth,
nests, to their season,
while pathways
are borrowed from the sky

They pierce the fringes
of the soul
and then
depart.




Friday, April 15, 2016

Empty Spoons



The driver sat down by the edge of the water,
spoon in hand, pondering what flavors life
had left to offer

Bored with blue, the fool stood up and waved his spoon,
unaware of his own melancholy. “Declarations,”
he declared, “Declarations will be made as to what
it takes to suit me!”

The water snake could not hear him from where
it slithered along through the shallows – a turtle slipped
off of its rock only to take a swim

While fish chortled about in schools of leisurely thought,
oblivious to one of theirs which floated, catatonically,
to the surface, as if in tribute

And, off across the way, a fiddler tugged a
sloppy bow across a row of gleaming strings –
“Damn Hippie!” the driver scowled,
“Damn fool!”

Some play their songs with empty spoons,
others stand there, famished,
while the water turns bloody red.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Mending



Pollen wafting flakes in daylight green
clarinet scaling the second floor
bellies torn and stitched
calico cat guarding my feet

Poppies, paper, pink and orange
Percocet doing its best
“You look like a man on vacation,” she said
discomfort rests

Better days have been wasted
isn’t that what we’re here for?
a butterfly beats it into the wind
shorts unsnapped beneath my shirt

Sleep enchants – a luster to the breeze
so much is going on
sitting here, motionless
waiting for the time to heal

So much has come and gone
an old dog barks
“Ah, a hero,” she said
ah, a hero.




Sunday, April 10, 2016

The Statue


Here, within the softness
of the snowfall,
its allure may find me,
catch hold of me,
and gradually freeze my soul
into stone

There is innocence in the eyes,
my hunger almost mistakes it
for snowflakes
as white as the page
that begs to be
despoiled with a pen

I long to let go of
all cause for concern
and allow such hypnotic beauty
to consume me
so that I might soar
past the constrictions
of all things wasted

And land
within a smile,
a dusted white
bone-hard statue,
its thoughts
unknown.