Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Metabolic Revolution of Our Ecosystem - by - Bob Atkinson



(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

we've see a sign today of
"a metabolic revolution in the ecosystem"
something someone said
to give credence to evolution

a far fetched lack of understanding
no firm fixed wonder in our time
how could we devolve so quickly
while thinking we're expanding minds

I revel in older books
language intricate and sincere
nothing glossed over quickly
as currently I fear

fear we've gone to surface mode
not really thinking when we pine
for produce constructed with a thought
toward survival of our kind

our kind seems to us not all
of humanity's varieties
only those around us close
who look like you and me

therein lies a quality
invoked as sincere
but truly taking us to task
by playing on our fears

fears our children won't succeed
survive this frozen waste
because our capacity to proceed
gets diminished by our haste

haste which leaves our goals intact
but takes a step out from our rung
a simple precept dominating not
where we're going, but where we're from

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Nom de Plume - by - Bob Atkinson

(c)2016 Bob Atkinson
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quill


what’s in a name you ask
not important in this life
a simple handle to hold on
when signing off a gripe

or simply saying to someone
who we think we are
for here when I develop taste
I light my new cigar

sit back and peruse my mind
with openness of thought
something hard to do at end
of my daily cause

a nom de plume can help in these
worried fateful days
when nobody understands
how this world’s arranged

many in our sub-culture
have nicknames assigned to them
those who value tradition not
and play a different game

a game of beginning culture
where past has meaning not
so they can swim against a stream
of flowing decadent rot

me, here in my open time
will find a handle strong
which doesn’t keep me from remembering
where did I come from

what’s in a name you ask
not important in this life
a simple handle to hold on
when signing off a gripe

or simply saying to someone
who we think we are
for here when I develop taste
I light my new cigar

sit back and peruse my mind
with openness of thought
something hard to do at end
of my daily cause

a nom de plume can help in these
worried fateful days
when nobody understands
how this world’s arranged

many in our sub-culture
have nicknames assigned to them
those who value tradition not
and play a different game

a game of beginning culture
where past has meaning not
so they can swim against a stream
of flowing decadent rot

me, here in my open time
will find a handle strong
which doesn’t keep me from remembering
where did I come from

Friday, August 5, 2016

Efforts to Seek - by - Bob Atkinson

Efforts to Seek
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson


we’ve settled into our
fast way of life
judging and mocking
and professing our right


yet not letting fellow
passengers on planet
find their own purpose
a vile older habit


to judge what another says in a quip
let’s us step back to an old backward slip
where aboriginal origins peek through a veil
reversing our progress on evolution’s trail


don’t think you’re advanced and trade all you’re worth
for a process of dogma and cocky mirth
that says something funny with a political eye
yet finds no direction with pie in clear sky


a penchant for sarcasm puts us in mire
such feelings belong right there in that fire
where advancement gets right down to red meat
and puts down a list of efforts to seek

Monday, July 18, 2016

Out of Phase - by - Bob Atkinson


Out of Phase
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson
https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_emotions

stops us cold this obstinate
phrase of what we're told
disbelief enters our mind
when hit with newness cold

boils water in our brain
bends light approaching eyes
no, we can't abide by this
an obvious set of lies

out of phase with our character
emotions come to surface
without pretense or sacrifice
some construct of a mapped circus

picture developed of our world
has parts which fit in place
in encounters with something round
square pegs find effort graceless

doesn't fit, doesn't fold
no way to smooth this beast
so mind becomes disrupted
thoughts seek some higher place

so these become our burdens
to carry on our backs
differences and distortions
brings us on an emotional tack

meant to review assumptions
take us toward new premises fixed
bring us in phase with new knowledge
by simply turning on life's switch

a switch adopting new pictures of
what's real and what's not right
we never fool ourselves with facts
only belief in what's in sight

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Poems of Gertrude Stein - critique - by Bob Atkinson





critique the pseudo-poet Gertrude Stein by Bob Atkinson
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gertrude_Stein


People, tried to find a poem of Gertrude Stein
found none with content enough to even read.
For her to be titled "Poet" gags one severely.
This situation's worse than ever imagined.
You got to call it a poem, before you can
do a poem critique. 
In her case those mini-monsters labeled "poems"
weren't such.
What's worse than "tripewriter?"
"Pseudo-poet?"
We've been conned into believing the unbelievable.
A "poetry establishment" which never, ever
understands poetry's a disgrace. 

Rethink, revamp, rewind, rebound.
Get real people!
If they read this junk they'd not publish it.

Friday, July 15, 2016

The Poetry Critic's Choice - by - Bob Atkinson

The Poetry Critic's Choice
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

I find here in my mental mood
some remorse fed by solitude
a question of my thoughts arranged
hereby with an electric pen

well folks a process duly made
grabs usage of what's previously paid
paid for with a mental note
which describes our statements, quotes

take for instance affirmations of
derision, fluff and words unloved
I do this with sincerity
junk's junk even if pushed, shoved

into an arena created by
pseudo-intellectual men of iron
who claim correctness in their times
yet push out garbage not refined

while ignoring brilliance written down
those words which should be given crowns
those ideas presented which grab our minds
with emotional tongs so ill defined

if you believe my simple presumption
please feel free to follow my lead
promote good words wherever can
reject rubbish as if a sin

Monday, July 11, 2016

Conflict - by - Bob Atkinson


(c)2016 Bob Atkinson
 

my body may stand different
my ideas quite far away
from your history of lineage
born from a different page

so words, to me, have meanings
which they don't to you
so we see with eyes of focus on
different shapes and hues

isn't here a bad thing
unless we choose to ignore
potential benefits of this
diversity on our score

for if we band together
we'll see much more of life
for range of vision's important
in conquering foils of trials

but, if we see ourselves unique
not needing those who don't
fit into a narrow pattern of
our daughters and our folks

conflict's bound to arise
hurting all we love
not thrilled with a prospect
which contains a fight for stuff

please see me in this attitude
don't need to fight you ever
your different way of viewing things
combines my salt with pepper

and that's not a bad thing
or something to lament
diversity of origin
means combination's best

so quit telling me your different
this, don't wish to know
only that you see me here
as friend, not stranger, foe

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Top of the Head - by - Bob Atkinson



Top of the Head
(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

I see in my mirror daily
hair’s disappearing act
so thin my skin shows up
before hidden away flat

follicles spreading out
as if soldiers in a battle lost
not so many now
as when to battle front marched

this saddens my perspective
give mortality a loud voice
for when I look at myself
I cry with due remorse

but then I look at men around
who seem to stand worse off
let me tell you about them
so you can get p***** off

some, like me lost it all
except for around their ears
a “U” shaped delineation
topped off with skin so clear

then there come the “pin heads”
bald as bald could be
shave their noggins daily
to look like stick pins of mommy

then come fuzzies a little short
showing some hair, but not a lot
round as if a garden lawn
with edge well trimmed on plot

we have our baseball cappers
something gives me chuckle when
I see them driving in their car
or walking hand in hand

if they only knew how funny
they looked with a bill so large
they’d throw their caps in trash cans
so laughter wouldn’t follow

some, we won’t say who
can’t figure this out
don’t even know which way
to point a bill’s broad snout

then, there stand cowboys
whose hats get brims turned up
to shed light on blank faces
eyes covering nothing up

up there where brain mass
isn’t massive at all
barely went through grade school
subjects tough as hell

a myriad of other concoctions
like grandma’s scarf tied up
and top hats to hide pistols
under silky smoothness tucked

military hats for those
militants in their hearts
who don’t know to remove them
when under roof above

unless they’re armed with guns
to keep bad guys at bay
when traveling through a city
or marching in parade

all in all I feel serene
when I look at my hair so thin
could be worse in my mind
if I looked like them