Forty-Four----

Forty-Four

Summers come, summers go

Good days forever following strife.

And all the years have shown

winters will always pass on.

She savors the spring

when life is a blue sky and laughter is for free.

With her feet in the pool she sits.

Draws lazy eights in the water.

Smokes slow and sips iced tea.

--Wonders if fishes ever tire of seafood

swimming around in the deep blue sea.

Other days when times are the worst.

When problems storm at the gates.

When it hurts her even to breathe.

Then her heart flows with the bravest of bravery

And like an Apache she attacks whatever is wrong.

She knows just when to hunker.

Knows just when to smile, knows just when to fight.

Savvy, sharp, bold, happy and strong.

He flame burns bright forty-four years on.

She's found a love deep and true.

Found a love tender and long.

Back to back, face to face,

where once there was one,

now two travel on.

She keeps him close.

She kisses him often.

She keeps him free.

And he knows she's a lady.

Knows when she is right.

Knows when she is wrong.

He knows the mistress in her, knows the little girl.

And she's the finest thing he's ever seen forty-four years on.

Children growing, children grown.

Children happy as the days roll along.

First words, first sights, first crunches

first years, first cars, first flights.

First dreams to dream on.

She teaches them to stoke the flames.

She teaches them kindness, gives them advice.

She shows them how to be strong.

She gives them candy, teaches them jokes.

Her face forever mother forty-four years on.

It's the twenty-first century

and much of the world

has forgotten the song.

But she remembers how to be a hippie

and her soul keeps up the beat.

She's still a rock and roll lady.

True to herself forty-four years on.

Dewey Dirks—copyright 2005
For Elaine

Dragon Series---Spirit of a Kitten

The next three poems are part of a series of work about dragons.  All three poems dovetail into one another.

Spirit of a Kitten----

She’s just a tiny little thing

small baby size meow

bitsy white and tan paws

fat baby belly, milk teeth, baby claws

In your lap she lies curled

like a tiny calico coin

She sleeps, cuddling the ginger glow

As you sit beside a winter night fire

But far across a vast Asian steppe

her spirit flies on fleet white wings

There, she dines with the great blue dragon

and stalks the golden eagle’s lair

And far across a gray forest night

Lesser gods-- gods of mice and men

shiver at the breeze of her passing

and the spirits of small creatures

of rabbits and ground squirrels

call her mighty and scurry to hide

hugging their trembling lives

deep in the hickory glen

High, high above rocky mountain spires

her emerald eyes mirror the silver moon

and pierce all dark shadows

where she rules life and death

between the setting sun and the next azure dawn

of tomorrow’s cloudless winter day

Dewey Dirks copyright 2009

Dragon Series---Great Blue Dragon

The Great Blue Dragon----

Some of us see dragons

in our minds eye every day.

Some of us never see dragons at all.

It's said crazy men and small children

often see them flying in the sky

If you ask one of them, they'll tell you

dragons seldom fall.

I've heard it rumored

cats and dogs and small creatures

see dragons often

and talk to them all the time.

I've heard it rumored the men we call wizards

knew them well

and considered most dragons

wiser than most men.

The great wizard Fizzreeb who long ago lived

in the Egyptian town of Aditahur once wrote,

“Dragons come and dragons go.

There are dragons good and bad

and dragons in between.

Dragons just and unjust

and dragons just biding times long flow.

They come in all colors.

Dragons European, and Chinese and Indian.

Dragons in the sea, on the land, and in the sky.

Dragons from the north and east

or from the south and west

and dragons from nowhere at all.

There's dragons young and old

dragons dumber and smarter

but the great blue dragon

is the oldest and wisest of all.

He lives in a cottage

just west of the end of time.

No one knows his real name.

No one knows from where he came long ago.

No one knows how he gets home.

He is very big and very blue.

Some say he looks cruel and mean

but there is laughter in his eyes

and happiness in his words.

His touch is gentle

and unless he's roaring

his voice is soft, quiet and kind.

He can shape shift

and what he looks like

reflects what is in the hearts

of those who meet him.

He appears savage to those who are mistaken

and very good to to those who are good.

He has many scars from great battles long, long ago

but these days

only an idiot or fool would try to fight him

or be stupid enough to bother him

when he doesn't want to be bothered by wasting time.

He'll talk to anyone for a little while

but these days he talks mostly

to people who are innocent,

or friendless, forsaken and lonely

and only those who have ears to listen

can hear what he has to say.

If ever your days seem very, very dark

when you feel in dire, desperate need of a friend.

if a stranger walks into your life for a while

with words that are very helpful

and with eyes that are very, very kind.

If he can see into your heart,

if he gives you the gift of great thoughts

and asks for nothing in return

then likely as not you've met

the great blue dragon

who wanders quietly and unnoticed

the world of mortal men.

Now every coin has more than one side

and the great blue dragon has a downside too.

You see, if he stays too long with those he helps

they always fall in love with him

so they always try to win his heart

and keep him with them for all time

because they do not know

the old blue dragon promised his love to his lady

at the dawn of time, many eons ago.

Her kiss is the only touch he'll keep

and into her arms each night he wanders

his only wish at the end of the day

is to be homeward bound.

So the pain of a broken heart

is hidden in the gift of the dragons friendship many times.

He knows what will happen.

He has seen it over and over again.

It is a great sadness the old one must always wear.

He knows he can never linger long with those he meets.

And he knows he must stay

with those for whom he feels the most

only for the shortest while.

Behind him are one hundred thousand years

of dear and intimate confidants

he had to leave behind.

Ahead of him are one hundred thousand years

of watching true love

like a clear blue river seeking the sea

begin to flow in each close friend he meets

and having to leave just in time.

Still, there are many things to keep him happy.

Wrapped around him he keeps

like a warm blanket on a cold, cold night

the memories and deep wisdom

of a million intimate and honest conversations

with a million dear souls

whom he loved and who loved him back.

A million times where all alone

in some dingy pub or dumpy coffee shop

late on a slow Wednesday night

two hearts cast off the pretense, posturing and haughty banter

of ordinary conversation

and revealed who they really were to each other

like a pair of brilliant white suns shining

over a cup of black coffee sitting on a dowdy, faded counter.

Dewey Dirks Copyright 2009

Dragon Series---Karrianndi Golden Dragon

Karrianndi Golden Dragon----

Once there was a great golden dragon

whose name has been lost to time.

He lived in a cave on top of a mountain

near the village of Karrianndi,

far east of the Black Sea.

In the village there lived

a brilliant and beautiful young maiden named Oroxxa.

The great dragon fell deeply in love with her

when she was only sixteen.

He swore his heart to her

and because he was a very kind and just dragon,

she returned his love and pledged her heart to him.

For many years the dragon watched over Oroxxa

and the village in which she lived.

Oroxxa and her grand dragon could often be seen

on the steppes near Karrianndi

enjoying the passing days with one another.

The villagers didn't mind Oroxxa's strange love affair

because the dragon protected them

and brought them food and trees for firewood

from time to time.

The two were constant companions

and the great dragon

soon showed her many wonders of the world.

By the time she was twenty-one,

young Oroxxa knew of the Rhine river,

the Alps and the great rift valley.

She had seen China,

and had met a Pharaoh of Egypt.

The villagers of Karrianndi were very proud of her

and they liked to say that one day

she would become the wisest woman in all Asia.

Then, when Oroxxa was twenty-four she fell deathly ill.

The great dragon flew as far as distant Crete in the west

and China in the east seeking a cure for Oroxxa to no avail.

On a dark, moonless night in September four sixty-two B.C.

Oroxxa died.

The great dragon fell into a deep depression.

In mourning the loss of his true love,

he returned to his cave

not to be seen or heard from again for ten long years.

In four fifty-two B.C. he returned to Karrianndi

and told the villagers he would seek out

the finest human he could find,

and teach them some of the ways

dragons gained knowledge from the world

in the hope that humans could become wiser

in the subtleties of their own kind

The dragon searched far and wide for two years

until he befriended an eleven year old boy

near Kos, Greece named Hippokrátēs.

It is said the dragon taught him until he was in his twenties.

By the time Hippokrátēs died in three seventy B.C.

his fellow Greeks knew him as the father of all medicine.

Although many of his views have been lost to us,

twenty-four centuries later

the man we now call Hippocrates

is still well known among men.

Dewey Dirks copyright 2010

Success....

Success in what we do is what we all strive for but just like everything else, success has an upside and a downside.  The upside of success is--guess what?--it's successful.  Unfortunately the downside of success is that it can breed a lot of contempt for others.  How successful are you?  How often do you let your success lead you into the delusion that you are somehow better than the less fortunate souls on this little blue speck of ours?

Writing----

I think one of the fundamental features of the human spirit is the need to build, to create things. For many this need is satisfied by the day to day struggle to make a happy home; raise a family, buy a house, pursue a career, build a business. For others, this drive finds fulfillment in more conceptual works of the mind and hand. Such people become musicians, painters, hand-craftsmen, designers. I find my satisfaction in writing.

I think sometimes writing is an exercise in megalomania. I get to create entire worlds, build up and tear down glorious civilizations, bring into existence brave people and all sorts of strange creatures. I can invent wonderful contraptions of both high and low technology and dictate the courses of countless lives. All this by pecking at a keyboard for only three or four hours a night over several months time. Writing can be thought of as the low cost economy way of being God.

Another thing that compels me to write is a great need I have to be understood. Poetry gives me an avenue to express my feelings about myself, my views of other people, and my outlook on life in general. The particulars of my stories reflect my opinions on what the world should or should not be like. This is contrasted by an equally insistent compulsion I have to be mysterious. I can pepper my stories with bits of myself scattered among the strangest universes and most oblique characters my creativity can conjure up. I really don’t know if my writing is very good at being an interesting study in psychology but the heights to which I aspire are the sheer weirdness of Douglas Adams and the mangled sensibilities of Edgar Allen Poe. Imagine the deep, dark, unfathomable abyss the stories of these two present to any attempt at analysis.

I believe the things I write need to be read by someone else before they are complete. It’s this wonderful, intimate exchange of intellect and emotion between the writer and the reader that completes the circle of creativity. The world around me inspires me to conceive new ideas. I forge my ideas into a stories and poems and release them back into the world that engendered them. The reader absorbs pictures from my imagination. In turn, his reaction to my writing contributes to the pool of thought from which we all gather raw material. Essential to this process of recursion is that I express myself well. This can be rather frightening. I have to set my innermost feelings and the farthest reaches of my imagination to paper and then share them freely with someone else. A friend of mine who is an exotic dancer once told me that it is far easier for her to showcase her body on a dance stage than it is to let someone read her poetry. Writing is self exposure. Good writing is stripped-to-your-bare-skin-look-at-THIS self exposure. Perhaps if I’m persistent at my work, one day I’ll flash you provocatively enough for you to invite me to stay awhile.

See you left of center,

Dewey Dirks

Small Things....

Small Things

Just last Wednesday I had a blowout with my wife

When all the shouting and throwing things was done

I figured I’d better get out of the house

Take a walk, I told myself

Let things cool down to a low boil

I walked slowly down the street

To the park three block’s up and three block’s over

There I bought some stale bread at the hot dog stand

Found a bench and sat down by an old man wrinkled and gray

We were quiet for a long while

Throwing bit’s and bites of wheat bread

To the pigeon’s that wandered by now and then

The old guy had the kind hint of a permanent smile

He seemed quite happy and very content

Got me wondering what advice he might give me

There from the twilight of his life

I said, “Old man, I’ll tell you

Life at thirty-two looks pretty damn bad

What makes you so happy

With you in your eighties

And death’s door waiting to open just down the street?”

He smiled a little more and said in a voice soft and quiet

“You know, when I was young I wanted whole lot of things

Later, I learned to want a few things a whole lot

But in the fullness of time I’ve found

That much of what has given me

The greatest happiness in life

Can all be put into just one word.”

“And what word is that?” I asked

His eyes sparkled

As he gave a good-hearted bit of bread to a bird

“Linore,” he said

“She is my lady

Linore waits for me at home

In a little while, I’ll get up from this bench

And wander on back

I’ll probably find her in the dining room

With a calico cat on her lap

When I walk in, she’ll look up kindly and say

“Hi baby, how did it go for you today?””

Listen son, Linore is just a tiny little thing

Like me, she has gone very gray

But when I look at her I see

A half a million memories all rolled up inside

Half a million things to think about

Lingering quietly there in her turquoise eyes

They are small things

Stuff you’d hardly mention day-to-day

Things that most people never even notice

Or take for granted and cast aside

But I think about them all day long, every day

In Linore I see ten-thousand kisses

Scattered across fifty-five years

Ten-thousand times her soft hair

Has brushed up against my arm

Ten-thousand times her head has rested on my chest

Ten-thousand conversation’s

Bright or wise, idle or sad

Ten-thousand jokes and wise cracks

Adding a little happy spice and pepper

To the passing days

Ten-thousand smiles

Ten-thousand “I love you’s”

Always from the soul, always good to hear

And at the end of ten-thousand tough days

Ten-thousand cuddles in bed after the light’s went out

Ten-thousand times we have taken each other’s hand

Ten-thousand times I’ve felt her gentle embrace

Ten thousand times her face has lifted up my day

Ten thousand times I’ve looked in her eyes

And seen the bright spark that dances inside

Small things

Things you’d hardly notice

But if you weave them all together

Across the long, long years

They tell a grand tale

That is epic and eloquent and entirely uncommon

A tale written by two small souls

With two small pen’s

A story written by Linore and I

That is worth telling over and over again

Now son, you get up and go on home

And when you do, keep to the small things

Keep them handy

Keep them close by

Keep on remembering them

They are what will get you through the long year’s ahead

They can make your life heroic

A romance that you live every day

If you let them, they can be ten-thousand things

That together

Are so much more than just a bunch of parts

Dewey Dirks copyright 2010

Touch a Heart...

Touch a Heart

She was a good woman, about thirty-five
Worked down at Denny's with a pretty smile
Had three kids that she loved more than life
When everyone was around
They were all she talked about
That, and maybe a little politics
Then one night when we were alone in the restaurant
She said to me, “John, I'm toasted
I think I need a doctor
Been on pills in years past
My life is a wreck and I don't know
If I'm gonna make it
I feel so alone
I need to reach out and touch a heart”

I could see the pain on her face
I smiled and touched her shoulder
'Said, “Barb, I've got some news for you
Everyone is toasted
If you only knew the messes everyone gets in
You'd see you're not so alone
The life you hear about from everyone
Is just smoke and mirrors”

Everyone has relatives they can't hardly put up with
Everyone has had trouble with their spouse
Everyone's got bills they can't afford
Everyone is one paycheck from the street
Everyone has hassles every day
It doesn't matter who you are
King of the world or homeless
Jennifer Lopez or holed up in a half-way house
We all are trying one way or another
To just make due

Then there's the private inner life
Our brainboxes got
It's only got three modes---
One that says
'Everything's shit and I'm all wrong'
And one that says
'Everything's fine, my toes are tappin'
And then every once in a while
There's 'Wahoo, Goddamn! I'm happy!'
Barb, everyone is like you
And I tell you what
When you're in 'Everything's shit' mode
God almighty, things look fucked up!

Barb, here's what I do
I just keep in mind
My attitude affects the way I see things
And nothing is hardly ever quite as bad
As it might seem
I tell myself no matter how messed up it gets
I'll find a way through
It might take awhile
But good times always, always follow the bad
And when the days are hardest
Reach out and touch a heart
Barb smiled, suddenly happier
“I just did” she said

Dewey Dirks Copyright 2010

Simple...

Sometimes life is so complicated, it's simple.

Everyone...

Everyone who is loved by anyone has changed everything for someone

Faith...

Faith
 

Some think everything's made to be broken
Some believe everything's made to whither and decay
And that we live in a world made only of distance
Always drifting yet farther away
 

You know, a man killed his wife and children
Painted their future blood red just the other day
'Said all the world was made of nothing but pain
'Said he wanted to save them from life
'Said there was no other way
 

If only he'd looked and listened
He could've heard the universe quietly say
"Need no faith in fate or destiny
Don't believe in the glory of Gods or the sacred USA
You can give yourself your own purpose
Don't wait, there's no revolution coming
No distant retribution
On some imaginary judgment day"
 

Life could always be better
There will always be things you can improve
But improving things is one of the joys of life
Perfection is a goal always to strive for
And will forever let you have something to do
 

Every morning as the sun quietly rises
And the dark night fades slowly away
Look afresh at the world around you
See with a child's eye the coming day
Notice a little black beetle busily stewing his morning stew
If you watch closely his industrious searching
Amid the tiny scuffling on grainy desert soil
You can see the universe gently smile your way
And in the new morning breeze
You can hear life softly whisper, "I'm here right now.
If you let it be, today will be a good day."

Dewey Dirks Copyright 2010

Boxes of bullets...

Dangerous World

I walked down to the park
just the other day.
It wasn't very cloudy outside
and the sun was shining high
in the bright June sky.
I stopped to chat awhile
with a guy who looked pretty worried.

I said, “Hey there dude!
What's troubling you?
He said, “My God! Don't you see the news every day?
The world is a dangerous, dangerous place!
He said, “I got back from New York just last summer.
There were so many crusty lookin' people!
The place sacred the livin' shit out of me!
He looked around quickly, then continued on.
He said, “I got so worried,
I bought three extra boxes of bullets
for my gun just before I left town!”

I said, “Well, I agree there's some dangerous places
in this old world.
There's war zones in a few countries
and there's places like the Sudan
where complete chaos reigns.
There's always been places like that
and there probably always will be.
But maybe you ought ask yourself
how many bullets you actually used
when you shot your way out of downtown Manhattan?

He looked at me surprised,
“None,” he said
“And how many bullets
do you think you'll actually use today
when you shoot your way home from the grocery store?” I asked
“None.” he said

He thought for a minute
then he chuckled a little and said,
“You know, all those boxes of bullets I bought in New York
have been sitting in the back of my closet unopened
goin' on eight months now.
They're right beside a couple of unopened boxes
I bought two years ago in May

And how many bullets
do you think you'll probably use
by the end of the next month
as you shoot your way to work every day?” I asked
“Not a damn one,” he grinned.
I smiled back,“Well, it sounds to me
like the only place you ever go
where there's piles and plies of bullets
is the back of your closet.
And even there, there is really no need.”

So many people lookin' for monsters
under every rock.
So many cops with their hand on their guns
every time they stop some old lady
for drivin' forty miles per hour in a thirty-five zone.
So many people go through their lives
every day always worried
somethin' bad is gonna happen in the next five seconds.
Every night they go to sleep worried.
Every day they wake up scared of their own shadow.
Eighty years go by
and they become worried old men and women
Maybe by the time they're eighty-one
they'll figure out
it's far better to pay close attention to your everyday life
than it is to pay close attention to your anxiety.

Dewey Dirks---copyright 2009

If things were perfect....

Perfection of anything is an illusion. No one and no situation is ever 'perfect.' Strive for a life that is very, very good, but not perfect.  Perfection is a goal to be striven for but never attained and the desire to be a perfectionist is not very compatible with being a fulfilled person.  You gotta learn that nothing that involves more than one person ever turns out exactly like you plan for, and you have to learn to be happy with the idea that things may turn out good or better but never perfect.

If you're thirty or forty...

You're fooling yourself if you're 30 or 40 years old or even 60 or 70 and you think you know what you've amounted to in life.  The worth of a lifetime isn't decided until many, many years after each of us has passed on and someone says, “You know, your Grandma used to say...” or “You know, your uncle used to do this....”  And if you're 30,  or 40 and you've had a few failures and setbacks, don't sweat it.  EVERYONE has had a few setbacks.  What matters is what you with you do with yourself in spite of your failures and setbacks.

Here is a song on youtube to go with todays post

Spend time every day...

Spend at least two hours every day doing each of these three things----Be productive. Work at something you want to accomplish. It can be your job, a project you want to finish or a goal you hope to achieve. Next, entertain yourself.  All work and no play leads to very dull life.  You HAVE to spend time every day doing something you really, really enjoy.  Third, spend time every day talking to someone you love.  The love between people is something that is meant to be indulged, and a good conversation with somebody you love is one of the nicest things life on Earth has to offer.  

Music on Youtube to go with todays post 

The Spark

The Spark

Hopeful as a lighthouse beacon
On a hurricane killer sea
Vengeful like a Kansas tornado
On an August night seethe
Powerful as an earthquake
In the city of Angels on mid-summers eve
Forever too small
For the big boys to see

Angry as a rap riot
Pounding out deeds
Sounds like Led Zeppelin and Cinderella
Or a Beethoven symphony
It’s on the breath of old farmers, children, and artists on fire
It’s in the passion of sailors just back from the sea
Tonight it sleeps with you and I
In spite of homeland security

Has coffee every morning
With code breakers hacking Windows XP
Stayed with the Jews at Masada
And the Sioux at Wounded Knee
Spends a lot of time in intifada city
Where it never dies
But often is the last gasp of those who are free

It can break the heavy chains of God
Keeps dying men alive
Lets blind men see
When Uncle Sam has a policeman in every pocket
And he shows us what to see on the wide screen TV
I’ll still see the spark in you
And you’ll still see the spark in me

Sometimes it’s the only survivor
When come packing the dogs of tyranny
Spark is the light in the wise mans eye
When he says ‘If I didn’t believe in love,
I wouldn’t believe’

Dewey Dirks Copyright 2003

A word for writers..

A word for writers---some of the best advice you'll ever come across is found in three minute rock and roll songs.  So, if you really need to say something, and you can't say it in the same space as four stanzas and chorus, you probably need to work on being a better writer. 

You just can't please all of them...

If a politician wins 55 percent of a vote they call it a landslide but there's still 45 percent of the people who disagree with him.  In your interactions with people around you—co-workers, family, and friends, you probably also rate around  55 percent approval.  Realize the truth of the idea that you can't please everyone all of the time and you'll lead a happier, more focused life....

After winning an argument....

After winning an argument with his wife or girlfriend, the wisest thing for a man to do is apologize.

There is no problem...

There is no problem so huge or bad that it cannot be ignored---Just look at the way the government acts.

Dumb man...cute legs...

Male chauvinism is still very real in this country.  Many men still believe they are much smarter than their wives and girlfriends...but you'll notice that a woman never seems to marry a dumb man for his cute legs...

If you could kick....

If you could kick the ass of the person causing ninety percent of your troubles, you couldn't sit down for a week.

Doctors say....

Doctors say drinking and smoking are bad for you...I don't know....Around where I live you certainly see more old drunks who smoke, than you see old doctors ;)

A lot of our Anxiety....

A lot of our anxiety and restlessness come from being taught from an early age that we all need to be doing something all the time to entertain ourselves.  Practice doing nothing for an hour a day and you'll soon find it doesn't lead to boredom, but a more fulfilled life. 

Twitter This....

Patience means being able to understand how trivial most things are going to be in the fullness of time.  The more patient you are in life the more you're gonna be able to accept life as it is when it happens, instead of being upset because it doesn't happen exactly like you planed.  When something upsetting happens, learn to always ask yourself  'In twenty-five years, how much difference is this going to make?'

Twitter This....

Make sure you understand others before you make sure they understand you.  If you want quality communication make the effort to understand someone else before you try to get them to understand you.  Being understood yourself flows naturally from understanding other people. 

Twitter This...

Don't sweat the details.  Stop trying to be so perfect.  Stop bitching at others for every fault.  No one EVER bats 100 percent.  What is important is that you and your loved ones are pointed in the right direction and moving a bit forward every week.  As a general rule success happens by inches at a time, not miles.

Twitter This...

If love were based solely on behavior, no one would ever have been loved as a teenager.  Loving someone means you not only care about who they are right now and what they do today, but also about whom they hope to be and what they have the potential to do in the future.

Twitter This...

If you're alive there's problems in your life. Happiness isn't having no problems. Happiness is learning what to do when problems arise. Are you happy?

Twitter This...

..It's pretty simple.  If you want your life to stand for bullshit, do shitty things.  If you you want your life to stand for peace and kindness, do kind and peaceful things.  The things you do every day are who you are.  I know who I am....Who are you?