Dreadlox33/Ian
Idiot Savant
~
I look at you and wonder
How your mind must be racing;
Your thoughts organized
Like the multiplex vision of a honey bee.
One moment your synapse firing away
In a violent discordance
Of cymbals crashing;
The next…a hypnotic metronome;
A rocking chair in the depth of sunlight.
~
Your brain…so disharmonious.
It’s fabric so fragile
Like that of a spider web…
And yet golden and beautiful.
~
To ask you to paint a room would be like
Me shooting spaghetti on the walls
With a cannon.
To tie your shoes…
Well, let’s just bask in your accomplishment
That you successfully got them on
The correct feet this time
…and we’ll celebrate that.
~
And yet you know
All the Civil War Generals;
Recipes for exotic foods
We’ve never tried (as yet);
And your drawings of buildings
Exacting and accomplished.
You wake up every morning at 7:12 AM;
Whose brain does that?
Only yours.
~
I look at you sitting in your room
…alone;
Sometimes staring into quiet moments
Of a distant celestial black hole.
Where are you…my son?
~
Holding your cat, Sherman…so gently;
Sometimes I feel
He’s a lifeline to your reality.
I think about the many hours of my life
I’ve been emotionally lost
In regret for you.
~
You’ll never marry
Or have children
Or make love to a woman.
I guess you’ll always be mine
…and we’ll celebrate that.
~
~ ….ian
~ 5-25-13
The Wedding
~
I liked how the slate-green siding and
Black shutters had a fresh paint job.
I liked how they chose the lake house
For the wedding because there’s something
About water that is eternal.
I liked that the ravine
Was full of wild daffodils
And that the grass
Was freshly cut that morning.
I liked the swanky Saabs and Infiniti’s
People came in.
~
I liked that the proceedings
Had a contemporary spirit.
I liked that the bride wasn’t pregnant
And that the ushers
Didn’t act like idiots.
I liked that the flower girl
Had strawberry-red hair.
I liked how the brides maids
Didn’t feel obsessed
With having to fit into a size 4.
~
I liked that he chose to have “Henry,”
His Golden Retriever,
As one of the ushers
…and wore a conforming black bow-tie;
And that she was perfectly fine with it.
I liked how they had
Written their vows
And in them he honored
His deceased father.
I liked how they were both reminded
That there will be some ” …or for worse”
…because there inevitably will be.
~
I liked how “Oddball”,
her white cockatiel,
Observed all the happenings
…from the bay window.
I liked that their matching gold bands
Were conservative and unobtrusive
…and that God held court
Over the proceedings.
I liked that they both lit
A single candle
And that in future …all dragons
Would be slain as one.
~
I liked how the drive-by boater
Yelled, “Save yourselves”
And they both agreed
…that they indeed …had.
I liked how he kissed her
…with love and respect.
I liked how the bride didn’t freak
Because the day wasn’t perfect.
I liked the white canvas tent
They chose for the reception.
~
I liked how Uncle Archie, the drunk,
Got his invitation
…two days after the wedding.
~
~ ….ian
~ 7-26-14
Lady Godiva Syndrome
~
Spring men
Dream of waifs and bone
And will weaken under
The weight of rejection.
They think embellishment
Is survivable and vice versa.
…and that each rung on a ladder
Is just another forehead
To climb on.
They think more money will
Equate to their happiness;
And with regards to time
There will always be more of it.
They believe that a week
Consists of fourteen days.
…and
They have a premise
That yelling louder will win
Any argument.
~
Summer men
Dream of cleavage.
They think engines
Are a rite of passage.
They believe they are entitled
To the last parachute
Despite the number of passengers
And that gender pay equality
Ends at the level of
An elementary school teacher.
They somehow think
That more is better than less
And that time is unquantifiable.
They think that a week
Consists of six days
…and
They have a premise
That poker (Not yelling louder)
Will win all arguments.
~
Autumn men dream of soul mates
But know they’re
Probably just a fantasy and
…In reality …they have
A chronic case of
Lady Godiva Syndrome.
They know that money
Isn’t everything
But it sure beats the hell
Out of being poor.
Autumn men still believe in the Cubs.
They think that status
Doesn’t mean crap and
It’s not what you know
…but who you know.
Autumn men think that a week
Consists of two days.
…and
They have a premise
That negotiation
(Not yelling louder OR poker)
Will win any argument.
~
Winter men laugh
At the foolishness of
Spring and Summer men
And they dream of
Someone that forgives.
They like sharp minds
And soft, Rubenesque curves.
They know that status
DOES mean crap And it’s not
Who you know
…but who knows you.
They know that a week
Consists of one day
The Cubs left fielder
Inevitably will drop the ball
…and
They have a premise
That the trifecta of yelling louder,
poker and/or negotiation
Are losing concepts and that
Winning an argument
…is still just a crap shoot.
~ …ian
~ 4-8-14
Dreadlox33/Ian
Dreadlox33 as some know is from Ohio near Lake Erie. He started writing poetry in 1999, after a challenge from someone he knew. (round of applause for that person)
He has many interests, such as reading WW-2 History stories. His last read was Our Endangered Values: by Jimmy Carter.
Dreadlox33 also likes Baseball, his favorite team is The DetroitTigers. He enjoys football, cheering on The Detroit Lions. Those of us lucky enough to know Ian also know, he attended Ohio State University and that he also enjoys rooting on The OSU Buckeyes. His hobbies include his grandchildren, writing, computers and \golf. Has been said that Dreadlox33 also likes to vacation in Arizona. Some of Dreadlox’s other interests include,Woody Allen movies as well as some crime movies. When asked his favorite movies Dreadlox33 told me 12 Angry Men starring Henry Fonda and American Beauty starring Kevin Spacey and Thora Birch . Dreadlox’s favorite poet is Charles Bukowski. When it comes to music Dreadlox33’s favorite group is Pearl Jam. His favorite music slections are: Unforgettable by Nat King Cole and Baba O’Reilly by The Who. His favorite food, “Chocolate”.
Dreadlox33’s Favorite Poem:
The Mower
By Philip Larkin 1922–1985 Philip Larkin
The mower stalled, twice; kneeling,
I found A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,Killed.
It had been in the long grass.
I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world Unmendably.
Burial was no help:
Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death,
the new absence Is always the same;
we should be careful
Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.
Toledo Poet 