Man
by Ted L Glines
What is it - to be a man
in the realm of empire's plan
blessed with alligator voices
giving orders - never choices
never thinking past your nose
blinders on to where love flows
chasing women to the end
without knowing her as friend
thrilled by medieval lore
and all the manly tools of war
macho trips so long outdated
like your manhood - overrated
sporting games with lots of beer
male bonding stuff to give you cheer
tweak those egos - tell some lies
talk that talk for all the guys
your godly threats and planted fears
are mirrored in the angel's tears
born to power - born to rule
while even marriage is a duel
for most abuses - you are blamed
you really ought to be ashamed
thinking with your little head
compassion may as well be dead
with a heart as hard as wood
what do you do that's good?
Author's Notes: "How very true. I'm glad I'm not like that," most men would say. So, it's all those "other" men we are talking about. Who are "they?" For instance, there are five men I know here in New Boston. Each one is a good man, good husband and father, active and well thought of in this small community. Two of them are owners of local businesses. One of them is the pastor of a local church, and one of them is on the Chamber of Commerce. Pillars of the community, who all share one thing in common; they are all members of the K.K.K. What happened? As individuals, they are great. Put them together and something monstrous emerges. Well, boys will be boys.
End
by Ted L Glines
--- sinning ---
it was fun for a day
never thought to pay
always laughing - a happy clown
--- caught ---
thought he could run-n-dodge-n-hide
police got him - gave him a ride
sure to make a grown man frown
--- judged ---
court was short - no mercy sang
gavel came down with a bitter bang
“guilty” is a thorny crown
--- hung ---
one black hood - one strong rope
no second chance nor final hope
no one cried in his home town
--- buried ---
hole was dug and that's no jest
with these words was laid to rest
“We're the last ones to let you down!”
The final line of this poem is dedicated
to Gregg Havlak, Assistant Director of
Sales Development. He is employed by
Funeral Directors Life Insurance Company.
Pulaski
by Ted L Glines
Hotel work is cool,
ya meet the whole gene pool,
some of them folks
are tellin jokes
and some of 'em act the fool.
Tell ya 'bout Jim Jones,
big ole sack of bones,
country boy,
his mommas's joy,
from the land of hot cornpones.
From Pulaski, Tennessee,
just proud as he could be,
he grinned and bragged
(I could have gagged)
'bout Pulaski's history.
No room for any scorn here,
a-tootin on his horn here,
a downtown plaque
declared the fact
"the KKK was born here."
.......... well ..........
There'd been trouble from outsiders,
skinheads and low-riders,
fightin and a-cussin,
lots of racist fussin,
and scared the law-abiders.
The City Fathers frowned,
all that fightin in the town,
they would keep their pride
even if they had to hide,
so they turned that plaque around.
.......... and ..........
Now -- I ain't ever rude,
but I found his story crude,
I may be white
but black is tight;
devil take this racist dude!!!
As quick as I could be
I said, "drive carefully,"
I sent him back
where things ain't black,
in Pulaski, Tennessee
Author's Notes: This is a true story, as told to me by one of my departing hotel guests. In this business, you get to hear about places and viewpoints from all over the globe. I always ask the guests about their hometowns, and what they share is always interesting, but not always uplifting.
Sense
by Ted L Glines
Common sense - we all look for
scanning the world of love and war
but look around and you'll deplore
the lack of common sense.
We've got churches spoutin love
praisin Goodness from above
while wagin war - push and shove,
it makes no common sense.
This county of mine is surely dry
no beer or wine for me to buy
but "private" bars abound - oh my,
does that make common sense?
Wall Street pushes price inflation
offshored jobs - no job creation
we leap to blame the United Nations
in the name of common sense.
I need a place so far away
where people do what people say
and logic matches rules of play,
a place with common sense.
I'll find it maybe by-n-by
when I'm through gripin and finally die
and go to that good place in the sky,
with the grace of common sense.
Author's Notes: So, after all these years of chaos and nonsense, you finally die. Your heart stops. Everything goes black ... and it kinda reminds me of the joke where the parachute guy jumps outta the plane and discovers that they forgot to pack his 'chute and, as he's falling at a zillion miles per hour straight at the ground, he's thinking, "I'll bet they lied about the truck waiting down there, too." If you can connect those dots, you're as crazy as me.