My literary musings and creations
There was a time generations ago
when the frail held a special place
at the family table
we wanted to love
There was a time generations ago
when we sat at Grandma Mary’s feet
and heard her stories
we wanted to know
Now is a time of
bleach bland food walkers
blaring Fox News
stored like teacups in a cupboard
Carl Shakey married Becky Tree
became my parents
so I was
Chuck Shakey-Tree
a few months ago I married
the beautiful daughter of
George Dull and Brenda Axe
my new bride, Charly
told me today of our pending child
I ponder the burdensome name for a child
to learn to spell
Carl or Carla
Shakey-Tree-Dull-Axe
O, let America be America again –
The land that never has been yet –
And yet must be— Langston Hughes
Children are foolish
to be born of parents
with no parenting skills
or the temerity
to be sick or malnourished
or to have nothing
and come to a land of plenty
or commit the crime
of darker skin, different tongue
as a nation proclaiming God
and rejecting His will
can we provide
for the least of these?
“I’ll be everywhere…. Wherever they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there.” John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
each new day kills plans
to earn his way,
in all this land there is no place to go
his daughter wears
a tearful, crooked smile
her hunger a spear run through his soul
his promises come flat
and meaningless
his shame floods every corner of each breath
until he hops a freight
and goes away
to try and send a dime to take his place
Say Rick, old partner, old hoss
it’s about time
for you to pack up your bags
and ride on out of Austin
I grew up thinkin’ I had the smarts
to decide a few things for myself
Maybe others feel the same way
Maybe folks with darker skins want
to vote and have it count
Maybe some women
don’t want you running their lives
You got your tail in a bit of a crack
when you tangled with Wendy Davis
fussed at her like your wayward kid sister
when you didn’t get your way
She put on her runnin’ shoes
and stood up for us commoners
The third point I want to make is ….
well hold on to your britches while I think of it—
I guarantee it’s important
just skipped my mind
For Gabrielle
a madman
left a silver trail through your brain
mandating you give up your life
stubborn you stood against
the gun that does not kill
refused to go
you battle through each day
wet with frustration’s tears
cheers for each small victory
Now you fight a new battle
you stand with raised fist
whisper your battle cry
“enough”
and I
stand with you
If world leaders had ears
they could hear people crying
not for want of treasure
but for their hunger
for need of care
for desire of equality
and for the children
If world leaders had eyes
they could see their people hurting
not for opulent mansions
but for freedom from oppression
for freedom from brutality
for freedom from humiliation
for freedom from ignorance
for freedom to find a better life
for their children
If world leaders had arms
they could reach out to their people
not for purpose of boast or brag
but for want of bringing comfort
for want of aiding the aged
for want of embracing the sick
for want of lifting the fallen
especially the children
If world leaders had hearts
they could feel their people’s need
not turn their backs and glance away
but be filled with compassion and grace
be filled with knowledge of what is right
be filled with love for people, not wealth
and have the wisdom of children.
Hal C Clark – June 5, 2011 rev
Our world is still filled with violence, terrorism, hatred, and other maladies. I wish it wasn’t so, but this is where we are. In spite of what we have, I still like to imagine a better world and solutions to our problems. Saying they don’t exist doesn’t solve anything. For me, a major problem is in what there is too little of.
We are here, on this earth
In this life,
for one purpose:
to love and be loved.
Any activity which does not
promote this purpose
is wrong.
We all differ in our opinions, and that is as it should be. I see no constructive purpose in attacking the person who doesn’t agree with our opinion. Discuss the differences, yes. Try to work out a solution, yes. Attack the person as if he is the enemy, no
We have enough enemies in our lives, among our nations, without recruiting new ones. In my dream world, I imagine living life with peace in my soul. There are others in the world who believe as I do. It is time to stand for our beliefs and speak out.
I remember that night
when I was just eight
and Mom was passed out with
the glass still in her hand.
It plays in my head like a
scary movie
that never ends.
As I lay in my bed on
the edge of sleep,
a knife of dim light
washed over my pillow and disappeared.
I trembled as I listened to him
breathe in the dark.
*
He had never come into my room,
this man who lived with Mom.
He sat on my bed and the springs
shrieked in protest as
he placed his hand gently on my chest,
driving tears from my eyes,
the breath from my lungs,
and leaving a stain of fear
on my nightgown
where he touched me.
*
Still quiet,
he pulled my hands away from me to
a part of him that was
hot and swollen,
his pumping blood beating a
tempo against my hands
like tiny drums.
I cried out when he pushed his fingers
into a private part of me
and cut me into
small pieces.
I closed my eyes and hid what was left
in a hollow place
deep inside me.
*
He moved my hands on
himself, breathing more quickly until
he made a small sound and
there was wetness on my
hands and arms
that felt like glue.
Don’t tell your mom
what you did, he said,
and left as quietly as he came.
*
He has invaded my room often
since that night,
but using that angry, hateful part of him
instead of fingers and
each time taking away
a small part of me.
*
Three years and
I have nothing left.
He has taken away
all of me
that was me.
I can give no more.
As he comes through my door,
eager,
bare and ready,
and climbs on my bed,
I reach beneath my pillow,
place the blade against his chest,
and watch as it disappears.
Hal C Clark – February 2011
Each year, thousands of children are sexually abused, usually by someone they know well. The children are scarred for the rest of their lives, although many eventually learn to cope with the pain. They don’t understand why these things happen to them, often believing it is their fault or that they deserve such treatment. We are all familiar with the stories of priests molesting young boys because these stories make the headlines. So many of the cases we never hear about, but the victims are still all around us. This is a cancer of our society and MUST be stopped.
I do not believe killing is the answer to anything, so it surprised me when the line “I reached beneath my pillow” came to me and I let the victim have the last word. It says something about the desperation, humiliation, degradation, and futility of the experience. I decided to let it stand. It is time to do something about this problem, and public awareness is the first step.
Please leave a comment and let me know how you feel.
They haunt me in my briefest sleep,
They’re never far away,
Their shattered bodies stay with me
In the night or light of day.
From somewhere came a storm of fire;
We fired back at the place.
Women’s screams and children’s cries,
Red-spattered on each face.
Mothers and their small children
Lay in gory refrains,
And nowhere can the guns be found
‘Mid twisted, torn remains.
Shards of a loving family,
A grimace shrouds each face,
Embrace in bloody agony, their
Bodies like antique lace.
How can these be my enemies?
No guns or arm held high,
There, children’s cherub faces
Without a will to die.
I’m in a constant battle,
And one I did not wage.
I’m here to do my duty,
Then turn another page.
No stranger, then, to murder,
But like a sin to me.
To take life from another,
Not what I want to be.
In this keen internal strife,
My mind cannot resolve.
The killer and compassion
In acute torment revolve.
And so, I can’t get past the pain,
The noise and solitude.
I see the masks of those I’ve slain,
Feel guilt I can’t elude.
They visit me in briefest sleep.
They do not go away.
Their anguished eyes stare back at me
Through each tormented day.
Hal C Clark – November 11, 2010
Veterans Day
This is a tribute to the men and women who endanger their lives to fight in our wars. Some are killed, some have physical injuries, while others have psychological injuries not easily seen or evaluated. Trauma to the mind is just as debilitating as a physical injury, and to those brave men and women who suffer this kind of injury, I dedicate this poem.
I am an ambassador from Nutopia
And proudly fly our pure white flag
My heart often yearns to go home again
So in dreams I visit and dwell without fear.
But there are no roads to take me there,
There are no armies, no treasures anyone would want.
And we all get along and let all have a life.
Defenders collect aggressors who threaten their essence.
Why do so many hold in their hearts
Hatred and avarice, intemperance, greed?
My thanks to John* for inviting me there
To a homeland sans strife bringing peace to my soul.
So I dream of that day, of that glorious day
When I can go home.
Hal C Clark – Sept, 2010
*John Lennon
I don’t know how many John Lennon fans are in this group, but one thing he was dedicated to was peace. Nutopia was a mythical land of his imagination, and it is a place I would like to visit, if not live. I can never understand why people must hate each other but I feel it must be based on greed, selfishness, or insecurity. I feel sorry for people who do not have the capacity to love unconditionally, as God loves us. He loves us no matter what we do. In that, we can be truly thankful.
Hal C Clark's Blog 