The expanded third edition of Hosho McCreesh’s poems are released for our reading pleasure in Something Random & Tragic To Set The Guts Aflame published by Mary Celeste Press. McCreesh’s style is dead-pan and fervent. A gratuitous read, Hosho McCreesh reminds us to live in the moment, to watch the world around us and I have a hard time selecting just a few poems to share:
The Evening Commute In America
An entire nation of
employees,
refugees, really,
of socio-economic
warfare,
ignorant of their true & actual station,
their cog-like existence
rushing,
feel like they’re always missing something,
refusing to even let their fellow man into
gridlocked traffic,
unfulfilled they rush home
in the cars they were told to buy
to homes they won’t own for 30 years
to husbands or wives they don’t know
& children they regret,
they shove pizza boy delivery into their mouths
get fatter,
sicker
& doze off
as the TV flickers a
dead
blue.
This poem pretty much sums up my worst fears about our society. That the majority of people are just working and not living. As a result of not living they rarely help their fellow man—hence the lines about not allowing fellow drivers into traffic—and the “cogs” in the machine stuff down their worries and stress with things that will only make life worse—unhealthy foods and sitting down to do nothing else but watch TV. It’s a poem that challenges the reader to be better than that and we should.
The Plinking of Keys,
The Chasing Off of Demons,
The Scattering of Ghosts,
& The Gods Giving Us All Our Fair Shake…
Saw a story about a guy
once,
could hardly take care of himself—
autistic, &
blind,
among too many other things…
almost
every
single
facet
of
his
existence
was an enormous
challenge,
a chore,
the most basic,
rudimentary skills
proved to be
nearly
insurmountable…
However,
he had over
7,000 songs
committed
flawlessly
to memory,
pounded them out on a whim,
played with them like marbles—
he played all sorts of instruments,
piano to piccolo,
he need hear a song only
once
& he could crank it back out to
perfection.
Prodigy isn’t even the word,
he was hard-wired to channel
music,
& he could play them all,
Gershwin,
Joplin,
Cole Porter,
everyone
like it was easier than nothing.
easier than
breathing,
& it afforded him with an
income,
a means to provide for himself, for his family,
a little something to help out all the folks without whom he
could not
exist.
& things like that
always make me
smile,
to see that
somehow
the gods find a way to
balance
it all out,
to tip the scales back the other way,
to never stack it all against
anyone
completely…
cosmically, somehow
we’ve all got our shot & that
somehow it’ll all work out for
everyone
eventually.
This poem lifts up my spirits and I know a wide variety of people so this is a personal favorite of mine as well. I think the poem is self-explanatory—somehow we all are given our gifts to share with the world no matter what “limitations” may be accompanying us.
Hope –or- Oscillate & Pivot
You owe it to yourself to
acknowledge
when times are good,
life is good,
when everything is
simple,
enjoyable,
beautiful,
because it will
always
always
always
oscillate & pivot
back the
other
way…
This poem reminds me of how difficult it can be to relax and enjoy the good days and the good times. When things are going smoothly we are often holding our breath and waiting for something to go wrong. It’s good advice we should all take more often—if times are good, embrace them and be grateful for them and let tomorrow worry about itself.
If you enjoyed this sample of Hosho McCreesh’s expanded, third edition of Something Random & Tragic To Set The Guts Aflame you may purchase a copy for $12.00 at:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/hosho-mccreesh/something-random-tragic-to-set-the-guts-aflame-selected-poems-3rd-printing/paperback/product-21037853.html;jsessionid=D5B1C2BAD8C5F1A862F36438D482492B
Thanks always for reading, please drop in again soon…
2 comments:
Dig it brother, Keep up the good work.
"played with them like marbles" Dear God, I wish I could come up with images-truths-descriptions like that. I am so impressed with the language this poet uses to touch our very guts.
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