SOMETIMES

I just have
fucking fun.

http://artoftheprank.com

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

A WHORE BY ANY OTHER NAME....

We like
to think
otherwise,
of course.
But whores
we are, all
of us.
We all have
puny little needs
and take advantage
or gain the upper hand
of those we can.
We can put
convenient rational-
izations
to rest.

Doing it
for half a million
is worse
than doing it
for a half loaf of bread.
We all hike
our skirts
for someone,
for something.

Let's rejoice.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

All of us are born mad, some of us remain so.
--Beckett

Many people
throughout my life,
including my parents,
teachers, casual friends,
bosses, lovers and other instruments
of control, have said to me,
in these words,
or similar ones:
"Grow the fuck up."
"When are you going to stop
being such a goddamn child
& grow-up, do something
with your life, make something
of yourself; when are you going
to matter?"
I never knew
how to answer them.

The process
of socialization
is supposed
to make that happen;
to exchange,
in effect,
the metonymic
for the metaphoric.
It never happened
with me.
"Things"
which ideas
spring from,
are still, for me,
contiguous. "Shit"
comes out of "sirloin,"
"reds" live next to "goblins,"
"love" can very well be
a "crucifixion."

No, no,
you must work,
you must save,
you must listen,
you must be disciplined,
you must be nice
to others & pray
& marry & have children
& work & work & work
& put your shoulder
to the wheel

which I have,
but in a odd
way. Awry, askance,
coming at myself
from a backward
angle, words
have been my most constant
friend and lover
and the few friends
I still have
are still at it,
too--whatever "it" is
and whatever that means.

It's easy enough
to stamp your feet
when you're two,
and not move,
and shake your head, "no,"
"fuck-off," "get lost,"
"sorry, ain't interested."
Not that much harder
when you're twenty,
even thirty.
But past that
it gets
just a bit
harder;
the mortality rate
exponentially higher.
Few do it well
because few do it
at all.

The "house"
is society.
Like Vegas
they never
lose. They
have patience.
Eventually
if you stay
at the tables
long enough
they're going
to own you.
Except now.
Except
for me.
At nearly
67, chipped away
at, clipped, tired
as a motherfucker
I'm still swinging it.

Now,
I'm playing with
the house's
money.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

SHUT-UP & JUST GIMME THE ODDS

There will be
a rocking chair
that will have
my ass in it
before too long.
I'll leave
the juniper berries
for blackberry's
& strawberry's & eat
a fat white peach
its juices squirting,
dribbling down my chin
& onto a white sea-isle cotton shirt,
a salt breeze
teasing my body
even as it
soothes it.

This, of course,
if I get famous
or lucky.

Most probably
a bored & dimwitted nurse
will wheel me out
and place me
underneath a leaf
to get some shade
and some air
under a watchful
& sin-soaked sky
near dementia
& death.
My denture will loosen
& saliva will dribble down
my chin & onto
my hospital gown,
& the crack
of my ass
will moon
some young kids
on their way
to school or home
or mischief.

"That fuckin guy
makes me fuckin sick,"
one of them will say.
The other will be
quiet. He sees
his own future & that
shuts-up
everyone
especially
me.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

PEACE

I've been watching people
all my life. Perhaps
I'm trying to detect
what I don't have; some secret
that I've never been privy to?
Now I know
there's no secret. Only
getting through it
as best you can
with what you got.
Still,
I watch couples now
with greater interest.
Especially the ones
holding hands:
Young couples, old couples,
in-between couples, men
and women, women and women,
men and men and can tell
whether they walk fast
or slow, skip to different
beats&rhythms, shuffle or
have to push the other, if
there is a peace between them...
and even though I know
that their peace is temporary
there is sometimes hours,
even days of it.

I couldn't be kind
to myself
and couldn't be kind
to others; I've had more
than my fair share
of women, but I was a man
who could punch holes
in heaven. And did.
It couldn't last
because I couldn't last
without tearing apart
their love
which I didn't deserve
and couldn't allow
or accept.
Stupid,
I know.

There are centuries
of suffering in each
second-hand movement
of a clock; the neon
in Times Square or Vegas
contains all the isolation
we need to know. We are all
so tired
from love
or no love. Our own caregivers
and governments have strafed us
to the bone. And so,
two people
holding hands
is a beacon
in the blindness,
a hedge
against
insanity,
something
to look at
and envy
and inquire: how
did you do it?
They won't know
or won't tell.
That kind of peace
must be found
on your own.

I'll always have
my share
of drama
in my life--
that's how I'm built, but
I don't need to chase it,
and won't.
Let those
who thrill to it
or need it
as nourishment
have it.
Instead,
I'll take
those tender mercies
that we can do
for one another
but usually don't.

There are no rules
and no prohibitions.
There are no saints
and very few teachers.
But for those teachers
who like to teach, teach
The Mask of Demetrius.
It starred Peter Lorie
and Sidney Greenstreet.
It had this refrain
that carried through the film:
"There's not enough kindness in the world."
That is something
worth writing a hundred times
on the blackboard, especially
by the students who you believe
are the good ones.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

TITS GALORE

They're proud,
they're pointy,
they're poised;
they bounce, they bump,
they undulate
like the air
on hot Georgia asphalt
on a long stretch of highway
in the dog days of August.
They flirt & tease,
they conjure
the boyhood spirits
of men.
They're in spandex,
latex, unisexed,
harnessed, haltered,
or loose
defying the whims
of gravity
& air pockets.

Some tits,
you couldn't find
with a compass,
while others
are a dairy factory.
All though
are lovely.
Lovely with the promise
of warm sweet syrup
spreading warmth
inside your belly.
Enough
to allow you
to close your eyes
and drift,
just drift.

And to think:
it's only June.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014

SICKENINGLY ADULT

The Betty Poems

I've decided
to think about you
only if
and when
you're in front of me;
to love you
only when
there's something
to love.
I wish to hurt
no one--
not a bug
not you
not me
--but sometimes
there's evidence
that has been gathered
not easily dismissed.

Yes, I admit
it takes
the guts
out
of passion,
but it allows me
to live
within these four
walls.
Give a man
that
and he
can do
anything.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2014