Monday, December 20, 2010

The Abyss

I stare into the Abyss. It doesn't stare back. It's an Abyss. It whispers to me, though.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Earth Mother Blessing

May the laughter of the Earth Mother, whose exhalations tickle our hair and shiver the leaves, upon whose umber hills we dance for a moment, and in whose fertile bosom we rest for an eternity, be yours this day. There is time for aught else.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

The Hand of Father Time

By his hand we receive this life
for he givith the day,
but minute by minute and month by month
his hand taketh away.
For these are the currency
by which we repay.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Life

Dark star consumes yon galaxy
Yet it has no gravity compared
to your lush vale.

I, molten volcano, am drawn,
quaking with ancient life’s
desire to renew,
and blinded by red

Quivering and bereft
at last I sink deep
into your moist, warm cleft.

Stars collide, life-sparks explode
Spew ash, hot and wild
And so life carries on
With each new child.

Luke Saucier, November, 2010

Confabulate

It is healthful to cogitate and postulate
it’s the right thing to do,
but don’t obfuscate or prevaricate
do that and you'll be untrue.
Feel free to discriminate and delineate,
but do them both well.
Mind you never masturbate
or you will go to
Hell, I don’t care if you do
just don’t castigate or subjugate
these are followed by rue.
While on the subject, know that if you fornicate,
your preacher will yell at you.
That’s one judgment you’ll not mitigate nor obviate.
no matter what you do.
You should know if you pontificate,
they will flee from you ten by two.
And beware how you predicate and stipulate
words can fly back on you.
Also, and upon this point I am obdurate
so don’t bother to argue
never ever, ever equivocate
for that’ll make me blue.
Many years in life’s school did I matriculate
To bring these truths to you
Gentle reader, I’m sorry, I know I exasperate
But on the bright side, now this ditty's through.

Luke Saucier, October 2010

To Every Thing There Is a Season, Turn, Turn, Turn.

A reading at a recent funeral reminded me of a favorite old song by the Byrds: To Every Thing There Is a Season, Turn, Turn, Turn. I like that song. I recalled that the song was lifted from the biblical book Ecclesiastes, and resolved to go home and read Ecclesiastes as soon as possible. I had to knock the accumulated dust of many years off the old King James. I opened it to Ecclesiastes. Have you read this lately? Ever? I was struck by a couple things: It’s not just not “preachy,” it’s downright stark, unreligious and fatalistic. The author, Solomon, presumably, suggests that everything under the sun is vain. The fool and the wise man both die, so why bother. No talk of Pearly Gates, angels and hereafter in Ecclesiastes. That’s for those girly men to come later. This is the straight stuff--no sweeteners. Though Solomon does seem to suggest maybe a little wisdom isn’t a bad thing. Sort of like an insurance policy. Don’t get caught up. It’s all transitory. He suggests you enjoy the simple pleasures of life: work hard, enjoy a good meal and good glass of wine. Good advice, I thought. Now I know why it’s called the ‘Good Book.’ Maybe that good book won’t accumulate so much dust again.



Luke Saucier, October, 2010



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6jxxagVEO4

Some Thoughts on Time

Time flies straight like an arrow
unless you are aching
Then it weighs like an anchor.

Time heals all wounds
but there will be scars.

When that time comes, this one will be past.

I reach for the future, she reaches back. We just touched.

The present is the stew, the past its ingredients. The present is the judge of all that I have done. The future holds promise.

Time is indifferent. I am not.

Time is on my side.
Untrue
Time is not my friend. He murders me minute by minute.

Time sweeps us all toward irrelevance.

I finally understand time and its importance in my life,
but I've got creases on my face and a hitch in my step.

Time is of the essence.

Time's a wastin'

Time is up.


Luke Saucier September, 2010

Lakota

I would race barefoot through tall golden prairie grass, chasing, chasing, chasing, burning breath coming in ragged gasps. I would,
But
I am gassing my minivan. I must stop at the store for a few things.

The wounded bull stumbles, eyes wild, nostrils flaring. He looks at me, and I at him. We are two warriors locked in battle. I would plunge my knife in. I would,
But
Left turns are treacherous pulling into my grocery parking lot during the afternoon rush hour. I must watch traffic.

I would revel in the great bull’s hot, gushing blood and yell the warrior's whoop. The red river flows from him and anoints my body in scarlet. He is my friend. His death means life for the tribe. The great bull gives every part of himself to the Lakota. Later, when first snows come to the land of endless grass, I would wrap my woman and her baby in his fur. I would,
But
I'm picking up a bottle of chardonnay, ice cream for the kids and feminine hygiene products for my wife. She works late tonight. I must hurry.

The warm liver cut from the dying bull is prized by the warrior. Only he eats it. It gives him the buffalo's strength. I would cut it out and take first bite. I would,
But
The kids have a soccer game. TV dinners will have to do.

I would laugh by the fire. The dancing will go on all night. My men show me big respect. Young warriors want me to relive the battle again and again. I would,
But
I must rush home before the ice cream melts.

When the fire is low, and sleep comes to the young, I would return to my teepee. My woman murmurs and coos. She offers herself to me. I would have the final reward for the warrior. I would take her. I would,
But
I haven’t refilled my prescription for Viagra.

I would sleep the long, deep dreamless sleep of the warrior. I would,
But
I'm out of Ambien.

I would be the warrior. I would,
But
I am the modern man.

Luke Saucier July, 2010

Redemption

I have an axe. Over the years I've replaced the wooden handle three times. Recently I broke and had to replace the head.

That axe occupies the same space as it always did, but is it the same axe as I purchased long ago?

Each of us can be like that axe...transformed, made new, and yet occupying the same space as before.

Find your way.

Epiphany

Youth has a certain arrogance born of ignorance, doesn't it?

My friend Mark and I stood in front of Dixon Hall at Tulane University the other evening waiting for a show to begin. The sun was setting as we watched college kids scurry and strut by, noisy young peacocks still wrapped in youth's protective shroud of unknowing. They were oblivious to the two older dudes standing silently by. We were invisible to them.

"You remember being that age?" I asked.

"Barely," he said. We chuckled.

We've each had too much wine for too many years, I thought. And mortgages, and quarrels, and worries.

"They have no idea the experiences waiting to be sprung on them, do they?" I went on.

"Huh?"

"The trials and tribulations they'll face when they move on from here? From mother and father?"

"The sledge hammers of life are lying in wait," he said. We both laughed.

I wish I could warn them, but I can't. Each life must be lived.

We may be invisible, and we may not possess youth's bloom any longer, but we know an awful lot about sledge hammers. Where they hide. The havoc they wreak. How to dodge them. Occasionally.

And a little about Grace, too.

Wisdom, what a high price you demand, but you are worth every penny. Can't stay a kid forever, I thought.

It was dark now.

"Let's go," I said, "show's about to start."



Luke Saucier, April, 2010