Our Wedding

Henry and Alison

November 15th 2009

Waiting Stomata

Waiting Stomata
Poem by Henry SanDiego, written for his beloved fiancé Alison

I was a flower a soft tender flower
Ticking away hours
No bees to kiss my petals or stomata
I was dour oh so dour

I pretended to be a rose but not meant to be
My tender soft petals pedestrian hiding pb
Hollow and wanting love truthseeker my larrup
Oh he was so sad I had truth fled a daily plea

For you see I had found my life giving soil
From years of emerging from a injured coil
I needed my soil called baby baby, Alison or Kumquat
So from rose oil I went to palm oil

Closed my eyes and prayed for baby baby to give me a big hand
Tumbling in tears and fear the gleen of no hope go away
A helping hand, a loving hand, her beautiful soon manicured hand
She smiled and in her off Cockneyed way eyes smiled and face scanned

I fell so deeply in love with her tummy, face and hair
My carrot top companion, friend, soil, helping hand
The greatest pain for me is not her bidding goodbye with a glare
But life misfortune somehow our wonderment foreswear

Baby baby and I have lives seemingly gardens bathed luckless
Warm rain so hard for or to trust or feel safe wretched within
Fear the less or understand more more lower class moreless
So finding our mates bootkicked and not sure and unsure actless

The singular moor, solid branch was the baby babys gaze
So tender, and I must I know treasure every instant
Lest some stupid act cause us waste a smiles ray, miday or forbid any whole weekdays
Runaway minds dripping filled the last we clutched together as constant replays

Waiting, eyes closed head raised slightly left sensing behind me, slow imagined risings
Breathless, softly weeping listening to her voice, tears and breastings
Over ear telephones to the letterbox, movie player in place before me
Nightly placebo, to warm the flotsam and jetsmere of the cold apart world

End
Aug. 30 2009, sandiego

2009 copyright Henry SanDiego

The Heavens in Trouble called an A Team

God, Allah, Muhammad, Jesus, and Buddha were drinking a beer one day. The Gods were in Heavens situation room listening to reports of how the world was losing contact with its people. Religions were being led by charlatans. The disarray was horrible and the Gods in heaven were so sad.

One day Allah suggested that it was indeed not so bad since we United States had elected a Black man and there was hope. Jesus said bah humbug Allah that is just a blip and wont hardly make a difference with so many hard headed people in government only interested in their own pockets and most people glued to TV or surfing the internet, Jesus teared up and said, “I don’t see any hope.” Mohammad said, “oh Jesus you wimp.”

Elvis, an arch angel with his wings clipped short due to his many lacking ways stepped up and said, God, Allah, Buddha listen to me, I have a great idea, why don’t we bring some of our best angels to heaven early so that we can get their genius to help us.

Buddha said, I like that idea Elvis, but what who would we call up early. Muhammad said, “they must be 50 years old at least since I don’t want any inexperienced angels joining and helping our efforts.”

Elvis agreed, and God chimed in and said Elvis we are going to need music to entrance and bring our flock back to us. Elvis said, I recommend Michael Jackson, he is a great guy, flawed and learned some lessons, blameless for many things he is accused of, but its his genius and talent we need now. Buddha leaned over to his left and asked Mother Teresa, “He was innocent of all those nasty things?” Mother nodded and smiled at Mohammad.

But as good as Mike is we need someone to sell things. We need someone to get the word out, said Jesus. We need a real pitchman. Everyone looked a each other and one name was said by at least 2 at the same time. “Billy Mays!” Everyone smiled and God reached in his robe and pulled out his Oxyclean mini spray and said, “he keeps me glowing white.” Everyone laughed in unison and agreement.

Allah leaned over and whispered, we need an amazing woman, you cant sell anything without a Goddess. Betty Page, in her white fish net stockings and large white angel wings, a arch angel of the highest order stood up and stepped to the table from the arch angel back seats and yelled. “You all need someone with a heart, someone who has been through hardship and knows kindess in her soul, Bring Farah Fawcett. God, slapped Jesus on side of his head,” is that the poster you had in your rectory in the sacred garden Jesus?”

God, called over to his reapers and first in line was George Burns, a tarnished angel but a favorite of God and he said, “bring me this A team George, we will surely get this heavens back in order with them?

Then Allah looked over at George and said, “bring us a real newsman too, Walter Cronkite to tell it as it is.”

George nodded and tried suggesting a number of others from Marilyn Chambers to Steve McNair, but the Godess were unwavering in their list.

So it came to pass, and in 2009 the Gods recruited an A team to help them bring the world and Heavens back in balance.