Saturday, November 10, 2007

A Boys Best Friend is his Big Screen






Who is it that goes for help
when little Timmy
has fallen down
the well?…
why it’s Timmy’s
best friend Phillips…
the 42” HDTV!…
‘good boy Phillips,’
says Timmy…
‘go bring help big fellah!’

who is it that does tricks
on the lawn for little Johnny?…
fetch a stick…
catch a Frisbee…
it’s Toshiba…
the plasma big screen…
‘good boy Toshiba!’
grins Johnny…
‘go get it boy, go get it!’

who is it that is there
to wake your little bobby boy
in the morning…
and to keep him up
late into the night?…
why it’s that family pet…
the one you now regret…
that has taken over
your boys very soul…
that abomination
you call a television set…

you reflect in horror
at all those hours
they spend
in it’s glowing embrace
showing it love
and their complete attention…
the watchers watching…
the 2600 reruns of Star Trek…
the 1865 reruns of Stargate…
the hours of Sliders,
FarScape and
Everyone Loves Raymond…
Infomercials and Springer…
24 hours a day
it comes their way…
their pet is always there ready…

the world spins round…
time marches on
as they sit dazed…
ignoring school work…
side stepping chores…
disregarding personal hygine…
missing meals…
to live in the dark…
Timmy is huddled inside…
sharing a childhood
with a boys best friend…
his Big-Screen buddy…
his TV…

afraid of the sun
and the heat…
afraid of the dirt
and the bugs…
afraid of the animals
and plants…
the spiders and snakes…
repulsed by the thought
of the great outdoors…
nature gives him
the creeps…

a perfect excuse
to spend time…
all their time…
destroying their mind…
drawn like
a moth to a flame…
staring mouth agape…
drool hanging from
a little boys chin…
at commercials, videos,
sit-coms and movies…
absorbed in their pets
as their bodies and minds
wither with atrophy
and apathy…

it’s no longer Lassie
that sits by a boys side…

who is it that will go for help
when little Timmy
has fallen down
the well?…
why it’s Phillips…
the 42” HDTV!…

you bet…

©R. C. Arquette
5/11/05

Friday, November 9, 2007

Bottles Without Doors





Riding away
from another
perfectly dark day…
fleeing once again
across the borders…
out from the secure
into a strange land
where all the other
pale riders are
escaping memory…
in search of Jose
and his agave…

into the canyons…
across the mesas…
in the shadows…
in the corners…
with the oily amber
in my glass
reflecting light
on the walls and
on the ceiling…
shimmering light
that will numb souls…
will distort perception…

will take away pain…
delivering me
into a momentary place
a calming space
where I never have
anything to lose
nothing to gain…
and never will…
the sickness passes…
I wake again…
finding
I’m out of control…

riding away
from another
perfectly dark day…

R. C. Arquette
12/26/05

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Delerium Golf






















It was a wonderful warm
and sticky morn
in the parking lot
someone blew their horn
It was Rocky Raccoon,
having done his time
for the “rival shooting,”
fresh from the pen
he’d come to play
with yours truly,
plus Kinison,
Silverstein, and Lennon…
We fairway nuts
were here to shoot golfs!

It was tee time
at a quarter past ten
when at last
we five deranged friends
gathered at the
Snooty Palms clubhouse
with tequila,
clubs, and balls
Rocky insists on
driving the cart
his stubby cigar
befouling us all…
And we’re off
in search of elusive golfs!

Alive with
a misguided zen
it’s a déjà vu
of where and when
five mammals hanging
from a Cushman
arrive chattering and crazy
on number one tee
Kinison’s “Four!” scares
the foursome ahead
they run howling
into the River Birch trees…
Look out, here come
the loonies of golfs!

Lennon announces
he’s big wide hunter
shooting golfs with
bent pool cue putter
While Uncle Shelby
and I keep irate Rocky
from mugging the ratty
Caddyshack gopher
Kinison beaned some
nun up ahead
in a foursome
and is screaming out
a whacky
settlement offer…
And the inferior five
still haven’t seen golfs!

Of course the police finally came
put an end to our game
and carted us off to jail
But Lennon had cash
and he paid in a flash
so we all were released on bail
We ended the day
in the usual way
by downing pint after pint at McGills
Kinison took the lead
in a voice that made ears bleed
and we all sang “Hey Bungalow Bill”

the damn end –

© R.C. Arquette
6/16/00

Monday, November 5, 2007

Turned to Glass

















 

At one time
he was substantial…
he had movement,
weight, and shape…
he was an obvious presence…
all polished,
shiny, and new…
his colors were bright,
and said to be alluring…
he had that dazzle,
that jewel like sparkle,
a source of constant comment…
a friend,
a loved one,
a confidant…
someone to make you laugh…
someone to share your dreams…
someone who cared…
a man of depth
and inner meaning…
a jester, a romantic,
a vagabond poet on a life quest…
more than a friend…
less than eternal…

he was that person
you used to know…
you wonder what became of him…
now you don’t see him anymore…

drained of what he was…
he seems invisible…
but he’s not gone…
just outside the scope of vision
where he stands alone…
transparent and fragile…
a quiet man…
lost in solitary thoughts
as if turned to glass…

© 2004 - R. C. Arquette