Spaghetti hits the fan,
Whatever goes wrong–can…
Letting things slide
Like suicide,
Leaves very little planned.
–
Brought it all on his head,
The wife’s got her own head…
Why try
Tired of the strive,
He wants to go back to bed.
–
Blames himself he’s isolated,
No confidant located…
But those for hire–
Credit’s expired–
In fewer discussions he’s participated!
–
Why anyone would stay,
He wants to hide away…
Have to muddle through–
Make an attempt to–
Would anyone pray?
–
–Jonathan Caswell
A solitary man
On the turntable span…
He’s not Security
We know with certainty,
He’d be inside on his can!
–
Apologies to all security guards…including me!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
He rarely attends now,
It’s gone and got diff’rent somehow…
He feels pushed aside
Not welcomed inside,
No one’s been direct with him, anyhow!
–
They used to go faithfully,
Found the spirit there strong and free…
The Pastor moved on
And a preacher took on
Things with his own personality.
–
With his circle of friends,
For our subject, being close to a pastor ends…
You know his pride
Didn’t like “outside”
But he wanted to attend.
–
Then he and his wife
Both saw ill health in life….
Comparison
With others is sin,
And churned up internal strife!
–
The preacher/teacher and he,
(Too much alike?) weren’t happy…
It shifted into
“An authority over you”
Which wasn’t as healthy!
–
Various dissatisfactions
Led to complaints and feigned actions….
Poor communication
Led to frustration,
In mutual distraction.
–
So now he stays at home
Sundays, with his wife alone…
No need to go
Taken for granted so,
But he’s stuck–this was his church home.
–
Socially depended on her,
His wife, for communication stirred…
When she took ill
He didn’t have the will,
To see that his opening up occurred.
–
He’s given his life for her,
Literally as it were…
Goes it alone
Reaching out he’s done,
Elsewhere–little left at “home”.
–
Options to go elsewhere?
Feels bound by his wife–so there!
Decision paralyzed–
Easier to survive
By himself, ‘though few benefits to share!
–
A “hypothetical poem”–which means it is just a poem….!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
They slow their speed just slightly,
Seeing those unsightly…
Dark storm clouds
Threatening crowds,
Moving to cars right sprightly!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
This poem is based in part on a late night radio discussion related to the SOKAL AFFAIR…a literary hoax perpetrated in 1996, by Alan Sokal, a physics professor at New York University and University College London. He essentially produced a “scholarly” paper, submitted and accepted by a peer review professional journal…that was essentially a total farce, with big words and phrases meaning nothing and saying nothing—and nobody caught it or the joke!—Information via WIKIPEDIA.
–
The program on late night radio was on the Buck Sexton Radio program, heard on WTAG, 580 AM AND 94.9 FM..(I-HEART Radio). or at http://bucksexton.com/ Two other men tried a similar stunt…which was similarly unquestioningly received…even by a certain very recent former President.
–
Anyway…my opinion of these scholarly attempts to wake people up:
–
THE SOKAL EFFECT–WHO WAS FOOLISH?
–
Two academics decided,
The SOKAL AFFAIR, to retry it…
They thought the echelon
Would soon catch on,
To the foolish words and not buy it.
–
Alas, they were amazed,
When the stupid thing was praised…
No one claimed to see
Its tomfoolery,
And no objections were raised!
–
Alas, poor academia,
Write crap–you think it love–
“Goobledegook”
As truth they took,
On which none suspected of…!
–
The authors, on Buck Sexton’s show,
Said academia scored very low…
Feeding such junk
To students who sunk
Under such high=priced foolishness—low!
–
It troubles me that they tried,
With hopes of opening eyes…
Weren’t they aware
That complicity there,
Had already stagnified?
–
Embarrassing people is the same
As a liberal calling bad names…
Same vocabulary–
What eye opening–
Wasting time on trite little games?
–
Truth must come by force,
Changing hearts, not playing horse…
Christ had to die
Be sin crucified,
To change a human soul’s course!
–
If you sound just like their friend,
Why expect foolishness’ end…
Look act like one
You’re shot before begun,
No matter what you’d intend.
–
A dirty joke it was,
A lot of people “buzzed”…
Doesn’t help squat
If the whole lot,
Misses the point of the cause!
–
–Jonathan Caswell,
M.S.E.–Biology, 1983
(for whatever good this is!)
Darkness patrols
Reaching in for souls…
Flaming sword strike
Fighting Night,
God commands self control.
–
Who with Him will stand
Against worldly demand…
For compromise
And blinding eyes,
To the wretchedness of Man!
–
Woman from man’s rib,
Males frequently fib….
Questing for power
Trample flowers,
Then deny they did!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
A moving black-colored spot,
Out in the parking lot…
Is that
A pussycat,
Who visits this place a lot?
–
It is in fact the walking
Of an employee not talking…
To his or her
Fellow worker,
Whose inside, not out walking!
–
We do smell skunks enough,
To make night time walks tough…
Sometimes we see
Them distantly,
I imagine the males could be gruff!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
*The poem’s author works in a place with CCTV, both outside and inside.
The nature of the beast,
His situation at least…
Comes to a head
Hope’s nearly dead,
But not for the vultures’ feast!
–
Inside he asks “WHY?”
Should he comply…
Doctor’s determined
To see inner vermin,
Removed and denied.
–
At present nothing much helps,
His sense of malaise envelops…
Near all thinking–
The raft sinking,
He covers his head and cries.
–
–Jonathan Caswell
The roads around are dry,
Temperature plummeting…
Forecasters think they know why
But it’s a New England thing!
–
We don’t inhabit Florida
Where hurricanes appear…
But we have our problems
With winter every year.
–
It used to be snow and always cold,
For four months at a stretch…
But now the “temps” go up and down
so lots of colds we catch!
–
–Jonathan Caswell
We receive visits from U.P.S.,
And two from Federal Express…
Later, later
They get here,
Cold weather…open doors cause distress!
–
Then someone has to wait,
If the last truck is late…
If remote control doors
Someone explores,
From the Security desk—might work out great!
–
–J.E.C.
By the Mighty Mumford 