Stephen Hawking

I think of Stephen Hawking
sitting in his wheel chair
his atrophied body

slumped to one side
looking out at the world
through a vacant stare

but looking more deeply
into his eyes
I see he isn't really there

he's parsecs away
riding a photon
through a new galaxy

singing e=mc squared
listening to music
only he can hear

The Balooga Bird's Song

If you’ve lain awake
In the middle of the night,
An hour before daybreak

To be precise -
You may have heard
the Balooga Bird.

It's incredibly small -
Just half an inch tall
And because it is such

A diminutive thing
It can barely sing
Above a soft hush

So it waits until
The day disappears
And the night goes still

And if it's small ears
Hear the faintest sound
Like a leaf falling down

Or an owl’s low hoot
It will stop and go mute
But if all is just right

It will sing in the night
And release from its throat
The three sweetest notes

You ever will hear
So pure and so clear
So full of delight

They'll repeat in your ear
For the rest of your life

Crocuses

by jr paruolo
______________________________________

"Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light." - Theodore Roethke
______________________________________

The crocuses will appear again this year
just as they do every year - suddenly,
unexpectedly, cloistered among the exposed
rheumatoid roots of the ancient beech trees
that line the roadside edge of an abandoned estate
on the back road I take home each evening

For the greater part of the year
they exist in subterranean darkness,
meditating patiently beneath the ground -
like little Buddhas
Waiting to burst out of their bulbs
and expose their purple petaled flowers in prayer
at the appropriate time

And when I finally come upon them in bloom-
I am filled with the desire to stop
and lean against the decaying split rail fence
that separates them from the road
to quietly meditate for a while -
and enjoy this temporary
but beautiful oasis
set against a landscape of winter stasis

But Time says -No,
you have other places to go -

So, I continue on,
driving slowly,
for the next few miles -
trying to retain that imagery
permanently in memory-
telling myself I will stop the next time
But I never do

In a week or so they are gone -
And taking no time to mourn their loss
Nature begins her task
of rebuilding the world from scratch:
one flower,
one blade of grass,
one clutching vine at a time -
until this small patch of property
becomes just another ordinary way-point
of competing green foliage
along the roadside on the way home

Never Kiss A Jelly Fish

You can kiss
any kind
of ocean fish

and never
feel a thing

but if
you kiss
a jellyfish

you'll get
an awful
sting

so please
resist
The urge
to kiss

this fish
with tentacles

but if
you insist
remember
this –

while
beautifully
diaphanous

they're
very
very
dangerous

and
if you kiss
a jellyfish

your lips
will swell

to twice
their size

for being
So pro-
miscuous

Words

if your words
are humble and noble
and generous and kind
let them speak freely
with an open mind

but be advised

if they speak
to the contrary
or are inclined to lie
then keep them confined

for what they say
is how you are defined

Spring Garden

by jr paruolo
_________________________________________________________

I was determined to know beans. Walden - Henry David Thoreau
_________________________________________________________

Having waited for the frozen
Ground to soften and reopen
I stand before last year's garden
Ready to begin its resurrection

Gently working the earth,
Pushing my fingers into the loam,
Removing the unwanted stones -
Feeling the pulse of rebirth

Clearing the dormant weeds
With rakes and hoes -
Sowing handfuls of seeds
Along shallow rows -

The curious crows
Watch silently.
The earthworms burrow
Deeper to escape the calamity

And as the sun completes its arc
my blistered hands are proof
that i have fulfilled my small part-
The rest is up to the roots

The Reincarnation of Mr. Ring

Upon his death, the moth was called before the Reincarnation Council to receive his new life form.

As the moth entered the room, the Grand Council leader, smiled and said: "Welcome moth. Before we begin let me set you at ease - you are not here to be punished. You have been brought here because you were eaten by a praying mantis and now need a new life form. The Fate Keeper has selected a new life form for you. Our role is to present it to you.

"We are granting you the temporary ability understand our questions and to reply to them using two words: either Yes or No. We do this because we do not know what your reassignment is and words are used by other more complex creatures and something you may not need knowledge of in your new life. Do you understand?"

"Yes", replied the moth.

"Let us begin, then. It says here you were eaten by a praying mantis. I know it must have been painful for you, but on the other hand a delicious experience for the praying mantis. It is the way of all life. We sometimes give; we sometimes take. Do you agree?"

"Yes", replied the moth.

With that the Grand Council Leader opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper inside.

"Hmm – It says here you are to be reincarnated as a human, effective tomorrow. However, there is one restriction: You must never drive a car at night. You may be the passenger, but never the driver. Is that clear?"

"Yes", replied the moth.

"Congratulations - Tonight, you will fall asleep as a moth…tomorrow, you will awaken as a human. I wish you good fortune in your next life. Oh, one last thing, in case you were wondering, over time you will remember almost nothing your life as a moth."

"Thank you", replied the moth. (Based on his new life assignment, the moth was granted additional vocabulary)

"Consider this hearing adjourned" – said the Grand Council Leader.

Now, generally, when human containers are involved, reincarnation occurs at the conception level so as not to displace a pre-existing life force.

However, under one very rare circumstance, the reincarnation process can go awry. Specifically, when a human has a near-death experience and its life force leaves its body at the same time a reincarnate is in the vicinity. If the human life force strays too far from the body and a Reincarnation Candidate is within closer range, then the Reincarnation Candidate will displace the original body spirit.

This is exactly what happened to the moth during his Reincarnation experience. Eighty-four ear old Mr. Ring, who was half-way through his knee replacement operation, suddenly flat-lined; And as the surgical team tried to resuscitate him, Mr. Ring's life force, no longer hobbled by physically bad knees, left his body and was joyfully and painlessly dancing around the operating room like a ten year old boy – and it just so happened that the moth was passing through at the precise moment the surgical team successfully resuscitated Mr. Ring and was reabsorbed by the body instead of the original life force.

What happens to the displaced life forces? Well, without actually having bodies to inhabit, they become non-entities and cannot reincarnate; and unfortunately, they simply turn to dust or lint. Their remains remains can be found under beds, in the form of dust bunnies, or in dryer lint traps. Fortunately, their disintegration is painless.

As for Mr. Ring, he pulled through successfully, completed his physical therapy, and was soon walking painlessly around on his new knees. He was identical to the old Mr. Ring except for two peculiar differences: he now insisted on using only wool blankets, wool scarves, wool shirts - anything wool in place of cotton or synthetics and he refused to drive his car at night. The latter idiosyncrasy caused the most grief for he would sometimes pick up one of his buddies in the morning but decline to drive them home once it was dark.

"You'll just have to spend the night", he would say. "I'll take you back first thing in the mooring."

Looking back in disbelief, the friend would say: "Frank," I hope you're joking. I haven't brought a change of clothes. Besides, my wife is waiting."

"I'm sorry," he would reply, "Next time it might be better if you took your own car."

"Drive! Frank, you know I don't drive. You old jackass, there won't be a next time. I'll walk."

One by one, Frank lost all of his friends until one night, the coldest night of the winter, he grew so lonely that he decided he would drive to Bill's house. Yes, Bill's house – he thought to himself – Bill's house is just five miles down the highway – a two minute ride.

So Frank put on his wool shirt, wool pants, heavy wool coat, wool scarf, wool cap, and finally his wool mittens; stepped outside into the cold winter night, got into his car, turned the key, and started the engine. He let it run for a few minutes, then drove down his driveway and headed for the main highway.

This will be a quick ride - he thought – no traffic ahead.

About half-way to Bill's house, in the opposite lane, the pin point lights of a tractor trailer were headed in Frank's direction. At first, he paid them no attention, but as they grew closer, he found them to be relaxing almost hypnotic. And as they approached, he suddenly turned his car into the oncoming cab of the tractor trailer. Frank's small car was no match for a head on with a highway heavy weight and crumpled against the big rigs grill like a bug on a windshield.

The truck driver was knocked unconscious and was taken away in the first ambulance. As the police and the ETs frantically pried open the driver's side door of Frank's car they found only the woolen clothing he had been wearing – but no body.

"What's that – something moved on the mat?" said one of the ETs -"Shine your torch over there."

"It's nothing – only a dead moth."

Scientist Wishing Upon A Star

When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you - j cricket
_____________________________________________________________________________________

If light travels at 186,000 mph
And the speed of a wish
Is an unknown variable
that can equal but not exceed
the speed of light

And if the closest star,
other than the sun,
Proxima Centauri,
Is 4.2 light years away -

How long will it take for the wish
To reach that star? and will it come true?

You Decide

by jr paruolo
___________________________________________________________________
First recorded in Giovanni Torriano's "To go about to fetch bloud out of stones, viz. to attempt what is impossible"
___________________________________________________________________

They say you can't squeeze blood from a stone
But some who have tried –
Swear they heard something snap – a bone
Perhaps – beneath the thick rough skin
Where pressure was applied

Swear they heard a muffled cry
As though they had inflicted pain
On a living thing inside –

Others say they heard nothing
And simply tossed the stone aside

Striking it Rich

by jr paruolo
_____________________________________________________________
The writer works in a lonely way. - Irwin Shaw
_____________________________________________________________

one man alone
swinging the pick

chipping away
deep in the pit

splitting the stone
bit by bit

ready to quit
then striking it rich

revealing the poem
held in its grip

River Reincarnation

by jr paruolo
_________________________________________________
You cannot step into the same river twice. Heraclitus
_________________________________________________

You retain your youthful will -
but you are older
and your waters flow slower,
become almost still,
as you near the end of your journey
and prepare to join the sea -

You leave behind
a serpentine shape,
your physical identity -
a time line
carved permanently into the landscape
like a name into the bark of a tree

and through water's reincarnation
you will regenerate -
but whatever form you take
snowflake
or rain -
you will not make the same journey again

Gambling Man: Odd Man Out

by jr paruolo
_____________________________________________________________

"At that point I ought to have gone away, but a strange sensation rose up in me, a sort of defiance of fate, a desire to challenge it, to put out my tongue at it. I laid down the largest stake allowe-four thousand gulden-and lost it. Then, getting hot, I pulled out all I had left, staked it on the same number, and lost again, after which I walked away from the table as though I were stunned. I could not even grasp what had happened to me." - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Gambler
_____________________________________________________________

Look up my friend -
when you win it's sunny

hip hip hooray–
It's raining money –

But it sure is hard
to get back in the game

When you're a gambling man
and don't have any

When the cards you're dealt
All die on the felt

When the blistering dice
turn colder than ice

When Lady Luck
takes your last buck

And skips out of town
on the last Greyhound

Yes, it sure is hard
to get back in the game

when you're a gambling man
and it stops raining money

Something For a Rainy Day

by jr paruolo
_____________________________________________________________

I don’t go looking for somewhere to spend my money. You can step on a tube of toothpaste for a week, if you have to. I spend what I need to and give it away.
T. Boone
_____________________________________________________________

When the first financial crash
Put the country in the trash
And the banks ran out of cash

Leaving everyone holding slews
Of worthless stocks and bonds and IOUs
And invoices stamped - Payment Over Due

Those of that unfortunate time
Learned how to pinch ever dime -
And control the financial bottom line

It's simple - my grandmother would say:
Don't just throw your money away.
Save something for a rainy day-

She never went on shopping sprees
or purchased things of luxury -
But splurged on life's necessities

Especially when it meant saving a few cents
on cans with missing labels or minor dents
(which she jokingly called - her mystery ingredients)

She'd haggle to her heart's content
Squeezing the value out of every cent -
Often to my embarrassment

She was truly a manager's nightmare
And would go stare for stare
Until he threw his hands in the air

And she always made sure
she left every store
None the worse -
And never with an empty purse

Economic Depression Redux (Financial Armageddon)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: The following poem, satirical in nature, is not the typical type of poetry I generally write - so please excuse the rhyming scheme. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
by jr paruolo

As the world slips into a global recession,
Quite possibly even a financial Armageddon,
The OPEC cartel collapses so fast
that oil reaches levels only seen in the past -
But unfortunately they can't be enjoyed
as millions of people become unemployed

The American Dream's on the brink of extinction
As thousands of homes go into foreclosure
And banks begin boarding up the windows and doors
and putting the owners out on the street
with nowhere to go and with nothing to eat -

As the investment firms
Hold out their corporate begging cups
stating - We're about to go belly up!
Instead of making them squirm
The government acts like an ATM -
And spews out cash with no stipulation on return-
In God We Trust - Amen

And you can hardly blame Detroit's Big Three
For failing to produce vehicles with better MPG -
When the public was clamoring for more SUVs
Packed with luxurious high tech accessories
To shuttle around town with their families.

The solution proposed seems a little bit funny -
It's based on appropriating money
to banks and corporations in need of fast cash
before they go bankrupt and crash -
But as has anyone even bothered to ask -
Whatever happened to their own private stash?

And where are all these dollars coming from?
It's not hard to guess -
Do they think we're that dumb?
They're hot off the Treasury's printing press -
They may as well be counterfeit -the ink is still wet.

And when the economic bubble abruptly burst
the outgoing President could have been the first
to help all of those who were hurt the worst:
All the employees who got it up the ass!
Instead of the CEOs with their hands in the cash -

Yes, the world's in a knot...
And by any one's guess
It will take years and years
to untangle this mess
and who knows what
if anything will change
For human nature being what it is –
Good intentions are short lived
and the more things change
the more they stay the same

So when that 401k statement comes in the mail
And you look at the remaining bottom line
And turn a ghostly shade of pale
Just join in and sing a song from another time:
"Buddy can you spare a dime?:
or "Life can be so sweet on the sunny side of the street."
And everything will be fine!

And I'm sure it won't be too long
Till someone sings that old Depression song -
Buddy Can You Spare A Dime?
And you see millions of the unemployed
standing in long soup kitchen lines -
Their hopes and futures suddenly destroyed.

Memories

by jr paruolo
__________________________________________________________________________
Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us. ~Oscar Wilde, "The Importance of Being Earnest"
__________________________________________________________________________

Some wash out to sea
into the fathomless abyss
of the unconscious

Some sleep
in the chrysalis
of the churning tides

Some wash ashore
fragmented and
tattered by time

Some float
in the off-shore shallows
invisibly like jellyfish

Waiting to cling to us
ready to sting us
with their painful tentacles

Should we attempt
to wade out
and reclaim them

cummings

(1

The
page
was
a pot
into
which
he
threw
his
in
gred
ients

a
pinch
of
this
a
pinch
of
that

and
he
never
stirred
his
words
which
is
why
they
stuck
to
the
sides
like
crust

2)

like
Rapunzel
in
the
fairy
tale
who
hung
her hair
down
from
a
high
tower
window

cummings
hung
his
poems
down
and
let
us
climb
up
into
his
mind

Marion 1

My Aunt Marion,
a petite woman with blond hair,
was the matriarch of the Wildes family
a clan of 16 brothers and sisters

she achieved that role not through power
but by simply being a natural catalyst
around which everyone else seemed to gravitate -
of all the siblings she was physically the frailest
but possessed the greatest emotional strength

she always reminded me of Doris Day
a famous actress of that time
perhaps because she styled her hair in a similar way
or because she liked singing "Que Sera Sera"
(Whatever Will Be Will Be)

Marion had infinite patience
was extremely creative,
but a terrible cook - which was unfortunate
because she hosted most of the holiday gatherings

the family relegated her to desserts and beverages
under the guise that her creativity
was better spent there than in the kitchen cooking

jello must have been the sensation of the '50s
because she always made several large trays of it -
including some with banana slices suspended inside

Growing up she always teased me about living in the country
"Farmingdale", she would say, "What kind of name is that for a town?"
(little did she suspect it was originally called Hardscrabble)
"I'd rather live in Hicksville."

and her scientific facts were always a little off the mark
she insisted that the ocean was bottomless
and that the rockets we launched into into space
were responsible for all of the weather changes
because they poked holes in the atmosphere

we had our best conversations
in the backs of cabs on the way to Chinatown
where my aunt frequently took me
for lunch whenever i visited her

after eating our meal, if we had time,
we would walk among the sidewalk vendors
and I would buy a souvenir with the money she gave me

once I bought a fake snake with a segmented body
that slithered in the air when you held it by its tail
i quickly discovered that my aunt was deathly afraid of snakes
so it rode home in the trunk of the cab - just to be safe

it's hard to say which is my fondest memory of her
but i think it was the week i spent in Brooklyn
helping her strip wall paper from the plaster walls
in the upstairs rooms of the two family house she had just purchased

it was the summer of 1969 - I was 16
the radio was playing John Lennon's Give Peace a Chance
the Viet Nam war hadn't touched me yet

and as i climbed up and down the ladder
for the thousandth time
ready to press the steamer against the wall
ready to scrape the wall paper off in strips
ready to nudge the occasional patch
that needed an extra shot of steam
and a little more encouragement
from the scraper

my aunt said - "let's break for lunch -
how about some Chinese?"
and off we went with bits and pieces
of wall paper stuck to our clothes
looking like paper mache mannequins
that had just exploded

and on the way to the restaurant
i asked her if she really thought
the ocean was bottomless...

she just looked at me and smiled

So Many Joes

by jr paruolo
___________________________________________________________
there were so many Joes
in our family of uncles, aunts, and cousins
in order to keep things straight
we were all given nicknames

there was
Big Joe, my uncle - married to Dolly
Little Joe, my cousin
Baby Joe - (Me)
Ginny's Joe - married to the youngest sister
Pat's Joe - my father

and if someone called out Joe
and neglected to use
the appropriate nickname
they were usually met with a collective chorus of - "Which one?"

and if all of the joes were in a humorous mood
they would make a classic three-stooges entrance
wedging themselves in the doorway
as they tried to pass through all at once

back in those days
all of the joes loved the 3 stooges
all of the joes had great senses of humor
all the joes were good old joes

where have those day's gone?
where are those joes?

One Step Behind

as you
grow
older

glance over
your
shoulder

and you
will see
death

lagging
closely
behind

and
for every
step
you take

it takes
one
step less

knowing
it can
catch up

at
anytime