12.28.16

Some how, I just thought this would be my year.  However, as years go, this wasn’t that bad.

For instance, I finally may have my crisis under control which is a truly good thing.  And now that I have quit smoking pot, my dreams have almost made a full recovery.  Why, I’m even having nightmares again.

But I’m troubled.

My own movement for economic self empowerment has stalled, and the economy does not look as good as it should be and will likely get worse next year.

And as for politics we are definitely heading over a cliff politically and socially.

But time marches on, and so must we all.

Have a prosperous New Year everyone!
Sincerely,

Eugene Hardy

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Noise

Tags

car alarm, chainsaw, noise, peace and quiet, poem, wood pulp

Peace and….
the sound of a chainsaw,
cutting an old tree,
wood turning to pulp

….quiet, sounds are….
car alarm sounds, a driver leaving for
work at seven in morning, door slams

….are muted.
It’s a morning workday, people leaving
walking across floors above and below me.

Peace….

Martial Music

Tags

a poem about dreams, a poem about martial music, darkness, father, fortress, poem, poetry, soldiers

I hear the music,
it gets lauder everyday….

In my dreams,
In the beginning,
I was chased, beaten and
killed,
always in fear.

Afraid of the Dark….

The day I awakened
was after my father killed me,
throwing me off a plane
ten thousand feet high….

(Thank you Dad!)

Then my fears ran from my cruelty and
enemies cowarded before me.

I was a supreme despot
and sorcerer,
I laid waste to all the world….
….until I came upon that
black, damned Fortress in the Darkness.

To better know Myself
in kindness and mindfulness,
I laid down my arms
and shed my robes.

And became
a train reck,
a chaotic dream world
in grays.

But the music plays,
boots echols
off buildings
from marching soldiers.

I find myself
druming my fingers,
tapping my feet,
humming.

Hearin’ the call to
Glory….

Blessed Dreams

Tags

dreams, life, poetry, prose, waking

My dreams
have returned to
me.
In full color,
presenting videos
of under laying
Realities and desires.

Dreams don’t
leave you,
but are drowned
out by waking life….

So blessed am I.

Civil Wars

Tags

civil wars, inner spirit, poetry, ulcers

Why do I worry so,
to the point of ulcers
to plague me?

Never mind
the crazy world outide,
shit I can not control
and effect little
influnce
but my mind and body.

I speakin’ of conflicting
Values and beliefs,
having wars within me,
Petty squables and bickery
over my mind and soul.

Why can’t I be one
Happy manajery of thoughts, feelings
and secrets?

I’m afraid I need to
Declare marshall law.

Cut ’em Lose!

Tags

poem, way

Cut those strings!

If ya’ want enlightenment, 
cut those strings!

Cares and worries,
Embition and glory,
Money and power,
Sadness and happiness,
Cut ’em loose.

Nothing and everyhing are
neither bad nor good
in and of themselves
But distractions that
pull ya’ off center
and before ya’ know it
You’ve lost your Way….

Her….

Tags

army, Her, poem, tower, watch tower

I hold the field….

I am the only one to
Stand upon it
without battle
or competing claim.

I have chased Her,
then She and host
disappeared.

There were no tracks
to follow, as if
they were never there,
nor signs in the
distance.

I told my commanders
to build a watch tower.
It took a month in which to
build and afterwards told my
army go home….

– Mitchim

The Great “D”

Tags

arsenal of democracy, Detroit MI, drugs, economic revival, poem, racism, Renaissance, ruins, rust belt, the rust, unemployment

I love my city,
The “D”.

It is old
and vibrant,
a colorful soul
in torment.
We were once the Motor City,
the Arsenal of Democracy.

Then came the Rust.

The Rust
Coated everything,
so that great buildings
fell in ruins.

The Rust
coated economic theories
and further divided
a divided people
With drugs,jail,
poverty and
a lack of
opportunities.

Now its 2016 in
the “D”, into
our third Renaissance.

But we still lack
our shop keepers,

May their numbers ever grow.

Love (2)

Tags

alone, divorced, Eugene Hardy, love, love (1), marriage, passion, poem

A many times
blessed man,
I have know love.

Fleating,
they were hot,
passionate,
short lived
and now I’m
lonely,
Alone.

It’s the second half
and all the points
must count.
It’s my own damn fault
I know:
I’m odd and
contrary, a
spiritually toxic
formula.
So I wait….

A Certain Grayness

Tags

color, crayons, dreams, grayness, mental health, poetry

My dreams
are
in shades of
gray and
no one ever speaks.

Stiff people
they don’t move lems
and are moved like
chess pieces across
an unseen board.

I want color and
animation, a conversasion,
a little wisdom.

Perhaps I can
write letters
in crayons….