Ramblin’ Man

Child of the 70’s I am
probably a
half-a-decade behind that
musically
favoring the 60’s

Not much into the Allmans
though lots of friends
certainly were

rearview-mirroring my peers
I get it now
because I lived it then

Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man
Tryin’ to make a livin’ and doin’ the best I can
And when it’s time for leavin’
I hope you’ll understand
That I was born a ramblin’ man

Moving from Minnesota to Colorado
at age ten
only a prelude

trekking back and forth every summer
solo
via classic
Greyhound Sceni-Cruisers

Within a week of high school graduation
I was back on the bus
back to Minneapolis, broadcasting school
kickstarting a career in small towns

Missouri, Iowa
back to Minnesota for wide-ranging
travelogue
multiple towns, call letters
a true radio vagabond

Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man
Tryin’ to make a livin’ and doin’ the best I can

genetically predisposed, I suppose
descended from
seafaring Vikings and diaspora Jews

My radio days ended, but not my nomadic
approach to the universe
Minneapolis, rural Minnesota again

ten years in New Orleans
as a high school teacher, no less

now back in the urban Midwest
tethered by roots seen
and unnoticed
here to stay, until I’m not

And when it’s time for leavin’
I hope you’ll understand

That I was born a ramblin’ man

Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man
Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man
Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man

Annnnnd…
fade.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2019
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Wisdom of the child

I was not even one year-old

When my inquisitive nature

Dipped my li’l hand on fluid white

Burning all the baby cell to ruin.

 

Pathetic was my condition

With a massive dressing on

And baby child have no freedom

But this was the call for her to sum.

 

At an early age of three

Stole her father, the hero true

And her mother tried hard

Until the lesson of death she understood.

 

Forgetting her own pain

Over the loss of her husband

She was more concerned

To teach patiently her daughter, death pain.

 

And the time with my siblings

Never skip my mind ever

Because they were the real gems

That completed my life forever.

Bohemian Rhapsody

A place of love and transparency.

Where our differences make us whole and no lies are told. Every person here is welcome to Simply be. Be free, be she, be he, be they, be them on any given day.

Now let us pray for the truth of God’s love to transcend the human’s perception of sin. When we no longer have to bury who we are deep within to fit in to a space, time, and place without trying to be erased, disgraced, killed or replaced.

To look upon your smile on your face and say damn you got good taste! To be unafraid of kindness, of curiosity, and ultimately love.

The Soul’s cry

Let us go then, you and I

To the mountain castle

Over the east horizon.

 

To the mountain castle

Which is explicit outside

But inside is dark and dingy.

 

Over the east horizon

Which was always calling on

As if I have some association.

 

Let us go then, you and I

To explore what know not I

But my soul always cry.

The Signs

Tales of tea and tarot decks
Voodoo priestesses and lords
Precious gems and stones cut raw
Oils and scents and trunks galore

Witches brew and boiling potions
Magic spells cast on wild shores
Ouija boards that channeled spirits
Cuban cigars, dark rum, folklore

Genies waiting inside shiny lamps
Granting wishes in days of yore
Conjured candles, smudges and incense
Covens, caves and secret doors

Full moons at sacred sand dunes
In desert lands with wild boars
Mayan calendars atop pyramids
Mystical beasts with goat-like horns

Gods that ruled the elements
Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, too
Medieval contraptions for pain and suffering
That only anarchists knew

A Shepherd boy named Santiago
Braved it all around the world
In search of treasures long and far away
Leaving behind only a girl

When the sandstorms started swirling
All around him, then he knew
The crystal glasses he’d sipped tea in
Told him exactly what to do

He trekked without his flock
And continued focused as he roamed
Like Dorothy who grew up in Kansas
He learned there’s no place quite like home

Living on a Prayer (prompt 30, Hour 24)

My family was never really religious.
We were a mixed family, Catholic and Assembly of God.
Both had strict dogmas that prevented them
from marrying outside their faiths, so, of course,
that is what Mom and Dad wanted to do.
They succeeded. The Catholics won, though. My dad
attended catechism classes so he could marry my mother.
I only learned that recently. They were married at the church,
not in the church. They married in the priest’s rectory,
and only my mother’s brother and his wife attended to witness.

I used to say I was raised miscellaneous protestant. Going to church
was a big effort for my parents. They wanted us to go, yet neither
of them was particularly religious. What is it about the Catholic
church that makes so many young people turn away?
They wouldn’t let us go to Catholic church, but they let us go
to every protestant church any of our friends invited us to.
Vacation Bible School, summer camp, all holidays were spent
going to church with someone else. Until I hit thirteen.

A minister at a non-denominational chapel I had attended
wanted to baptize me. I was afraid to tell my parents until the morning
of the event. They refused to let me go. That cut it for me and churches.
Even when my mother had bouts of going to the Methodist Church or
the Presbyterian Church, I refused. I discovered I had opinions of my own.
Too many of the pastors I talked to couldn’t answer my questions, they
simply said, “You have to accept it on faith.” That is when I knew
those people were no smarter than me, and didn’t have all the answers.

It jaded me. I decided to study everything from anybody.
Later when I married, I converted to Catholicism and had a Catholic
wedding. Years later, I studied Sufism. When I married again, I converted to
Judaism. My husbands felt it was important for me to be like them,
so I played along. I always saw the truth behind all religions, and I studied
every one of them deeply, from their own scriptures. It never bothered me
to convert. I saw the unity behind all the forms. The same truth
illuminates them all. I studied Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Buddhism.
There are isms for so-called non-believers, too, like Agnosticism.
Pantheism. Scientology. Rosicrucianism. Universalism.

Today I am happy to let people be what they want to be, believe what they
choose to believe. I accept the annoying southern behavior or assuming
that everyone is a Christian. Every doctor’s nurse I see, every grocery clerk,
even in fast food drive-throughs or bank lines they smile and nod and say
“have a blessed day.” They see my white skin and friendly smile, and assume
I am like them. It used to baffle me why they would do that.
Then I gave up worrying about it. Today I am happy to hear someone say
“I’ll pray for you” or “Praise Jesus”. I don’t actually care, but I always thank them
and say “I need all the prayers I can get.” That usually satisfies them, and
it doesn’t commit me. I say it sincerely. It makes my life simpler, and in truth,
don’t we all need all the blessings we can get?  And so it is. Amen.

 

Winter Dies

in great rushing waters, thick

with mud and dying things

which is the light of irony

that after the plague settles

the world will bloom

and the breath held

through the winter

will flow

until the frost hardens the ground once more

I Want To Break Free (2019 Poem 24)

morning has broken
should i stay or should i go
fly like an eagle

i want to break free
boulevard of broken dreams
with or without you

killing me softly
another one bites the dust
how deep is your love

the final countdown
we didn’t start the fire
with a rebel yell

To Find You

I look for you.
A status on a timeline.
I look for you and your stories.
I search for you among
The masses,
Hoping to find you are well.

I think of you when a picture comes up.
I laugh and reminisce
About when we were in love.

I look for you to find what could have been
And what was are for the best.
Your heart did better with another.

I look for you in a sea of what is a web
To verify,
I made the right choices.
I look for you,
In love.

A Certain Blue

A Certain Blue
Virginia Carraway Stark

It all started with the Empress Napoleon
She wore a dress of a particular hue
Of a very particular blue
And it made a splash
No one remembers the dress
But if you know a thing or two
And you saw that hue of blue
You would know exactly what I meant
No one remembers the empress
Or the dress
Or, sadly, even the painter,
But you would remember in a flash
The bag or box
That were branded after her forever
That’s the sort of world we live in
Our brands last long after our paintings
Our images
Our lifetimes
Or our names
If we’re lucky, our namesake is a color
That no one remembers
We wore first
Or why it was chosen to be so damn cool.