Dementia Monologue

1957_Dodge_Royal_sedan_03-1024

the brain gets  t w i s t e d
a n d                   y o u
can't                    find
y  o  u r             w  a  y
outBecauseYou'reSoConfusedAnd

what was i saying?  the brain          
     Did I ever tell you
gets twisted and you can't find        
     about when we stole
your way out because you're angry      
     that old '57 Dodge from
and                                    
     Clint Smith's dad?
frustrated with everything that keeps  
     He owned the Dodge
                                       
     dealership and we
I feel like I've outlived              
     thought that
My usefulness
I feel like
I feel like just
I don't believe in ending your own
I feel like just

What's... what was I saying?

 

His New Skepticism

Skeptic's Cube He was taught not to believe in things he couldn’t see or touch
Things that had a history of being used to justify atrocities

He was shown that it was not wise to fall prey to peer pressure
And accept unproven nonsense as sacred dogma

Could he really any longer believe in some abstract entity
That was supposed to control his fate,
And that removed him from all responsibility for his own actions?

He didn’t think so —

So, it was with great ceremony
That he announced today
That he would no longer believe

In “Society”

Inappropriate Poetic Subjects #6 – Dust Mites

Rent-free boarders in our homes
Offices and favorite stores
They live to eat what we
Unconsciously discard

And they repay this service to them
By contributing asthma and allergies to us
Although, I’m sure they do this
Equally unconsciously

They look ugly
When viewed under a microscope
But then
So do we all

In this and with
Their cosmopolitan distribution,
Parasitic symbiote ways with other life,
And habit of repaying good with evil

The dust mite
Just might
Be the closest other form of life

To human

 

Dust Motes Dancing in the Sunbeams«, 1900 by Vilhelm Hammershøi.
Dust Motes Dancing in the Sunbeams«, 1900 by Vilhelm Hammershøi.

The Forgotten Door

Restaurant

I stopped my car halfway between
Atlanta and my destination
At a parking lot shared by a gas station and restaurant
To refuel both my vehicle and myself
The day was very bright and warm

The restaurant was very dim and cool
And as I entered, I saw red plush carpet and red walls
Red candles on every table and
A Gold shield behind the cash register in the front
There was a short buffet table in the back

It smelled like 1968
And the strangest feeling came over me
As though I had walked into a travel stop restaurant
45 years ago

I expected to see my mom and dad with their three little kids
My parents young again
And us kids either laughing or fighting
Or both

In a place I had no memory of ever being
Until that exact moment
When I suddenly remembered everything

And I remembered also
That every day at work
I walk past doors I’ve never opened

Maybe our memories and our minds
Have a lot of these doors
If we only knew
How to open them

Different Paths, Same Trip

Grave Path

Power, freedom, responsibility, diminishment, and death
This is the typical journey from childhood to the grave —
If we are granted that much time

Small children see that bigger people have more power,
And they want to acquire it

Teens see freedom as the big prize of the next age:
Freedom to do as they want
With whom they want
When they want

Young adults realize that the next stage for them,
Whether in a job or with a family, or both
Is one of taking on more responsibility.

Adults toward the end of their working years
Realize that physical and mental breakdown
And diminishment of capability
Comes with aging

And, at the end of it all
Is the inevitable
Death

We all travel different paths
But we’re all on the same trip