An Even Dozen (human needs)

I wondered what the basic needs
Of the average human could be
I know these don’t apply to everyone
But they do apply to me

First on my list: would be nutrition,
the usual food and drink
Second would be: Rest, sleep and relaxation
Third would be the need …
For recognition I should think

Fourth would be… most certainly
The human need for touch
For without the laying on of hands
Life would lack so much

Fifth would be the need for place
A place to call one’s own
A place within the human race

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poem by David Whalen
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True, But Little Known Facts

True, but little known facts

Our eyes are always the same size from birth
But our nose and our ears ne’er stop growing
Some facts to know, have very great worth
And others are not worth knowing

“The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog”
is another one you might not know yet
This saying might leave you a bit agog
Since it uses every letter of the alphabet

Babies are born without kneecaps
They go through a most curious stage
Where those patellas don’t start to show up
Until the child reaches 2 to 6 years of age

If you’re an average American
Who endures Americas traffic-caused strife
The time that’s spent waiting at red lights

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poem by David Whalen
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We all lie...all day long

“Good morning! ! ”
(But it’s not,
It’s cold and windy)

“How ya doin’? ”
(as if I could really give
a rat’s rear end)

“Oh I’m doin’ just great and you? ”
(Please, puleeze,
don’t tell me!)

Have a seat, I’ll buy you a coffee!
(he always sits… and
I always buy)

Wanna read part of my paper?
(No! No! Don’t take the crossword…
…He does)

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poem by David Whalen
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Lonely grey lady at McDonalds

Lonely Grey Lady At McDonalds

She has hunched over shoulders, looks under the weather
Grey streaked and unbrushed hair
Wears old worn out shoes and threadbare sweater
Seems lonely and lost, filled with despair

Lips move without sound, hands gesture at no one,
No one’s close by, no one’s around
Lonely old lady, so restless and winsome
Sadness and sorrow seems to surround

Sitting for hours, alone, sipping one coffee
Watching other customers come and go
Peering into other’s lives, staring intently
As if she could know them by watching them so

Two tables over, another lady is watching
The old lady talking to no one, and then,

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poem by David Whalen
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Just a few of the things...

Just a few of the things… I miss most of all

Roman candles
Juicyfruit gum from mom’s purse
Cordite smell of a 12 gauge
First ride in a convertible
Hayrides in the Fall
Skippin’ rocks on still water
Leaves burnin’ in street gutters
The smell of freshly baked bread
New clothes from Sears and Roebucks
Seein’ Checker cabs
Beer barrels being rolled into bar’s basements
Sparks from Trolley bus wires
Ohio river ferryboats
Visitin’ relatives deep in Kentucky
Them sayin’ “come back y’all”
John Deeres chugging in the distance
Foggy morning’s
Runnin’ trotlines on the Lickin’ river

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poem by David Whalen
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The American Dream

Things I'd like to see

A congressman with cojones
A president with pride
A government less regulated
And no agendas to hide

American children having enough to eat
Less homeless families living on the street
Senators and congressmen taking the places
In war of all of our young boys of all races

Jobs that pay a little less in some cases
So those same jobs aren't exported to other places
Tighter borders, to keep out the ones
who only enter this country to bear daughters and sons

C, E, O's that refuse that huge bonus
And take huge pay cuts instead
Oil rigs drilling to remove the onus

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poem by David Whalen
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Tomorrow Will Be A Good Day To Die

Buckskin brown eyes stare deep into the fire
Leathery brown faces turn up toward the sky
Sinewy brown muscles tensed up like wire
Tomorrow will be a good day to die

Shell necklace enclosed in long brown fingers
Aquiline nose streaked with red ocher dye
On his brave brown brothers, his gaze achingly lingers
Tomorrow will be a good day to die

Crackling mesquite, sparks rush into the night
Great horned Owl glides over, wind thru wings giving sigh
Wizened warriors look up, brown eyes reflecting firelight
Tomorrow will be a good day to die

Piebald and pinto ponies, ripping sparse desert fare
For pitiful provenance from land so desolate and dry
Long manes brushed by gentle strokes of sage scented air
Tomorrow will be a good day to die

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poem by David Whalen
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A Father's Lament

I was never one for my kids to look up to
That's a stone cold fact that I'll always regret

I was never the best dad, for them to hold on to
I was there and I provided, I cared…and yet

I didn't give enough love, I wasn't tender enough
I was too much a disciplinarian, too quick to berate

I wanted to teach them to be righteous and tough
I realize my mistake, now that it's much… much too late

Too late to do the proper things…,
to say the words I wished I'd said

Too late to cherish them over, and above all other things
Too late to tuck them snugly in bed

To hold them tightly, to kiss them goodnight
Too late to see the happiness on their faces

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poem by David Whalen
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Ode to Bouncer (is this your dog too?)

Ode To Bouncer

Playful and stinky
First come to mind
With faithful and honest
Not too far behind

These things are what make him our dog

large brown eyes
Big Black wet nose
On my pillow he lies
In canine repose

He’s poopy and snoopy
With an aura of funky
Ears sad and droopy

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poem by David Whalen
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I sho hates the Devil (but God, you gots ta shape up too

I know the devil’s the bad dude, and you’re sposed to be good and all that
But big guy, let me tell you, I jes don’t think you know where it’s at
A lotta things they need affixing and that’s a pure and simple fact
Howsa about getting your holy arse a stirrin and perform some miraculous act

Big guy, they’s a lotta problems and they’s more seems to be growin each day
So why aintcha out there affixing ‘em, in this big guy, miraculous way
Why, hells bells, you made the earth and I’m a guessing likely the cosmos too
So why do ya let public restrooms, smell like some ‘ol gol-danged zoo

Big guy you a real puzzle. I’ma thinking you just might could be lazy
Lettin women get raped and kids starve sure seems crazy
Seems like you alookin tother way, seems like you surely do
Yeah, I hates the devil, but God you gotta shape up too

And hows about foot fungus, arthritis and my achin back
Big guy, sho nuff, atimes I’ma thinking you just don know jack
messy ’ol airplane crashes, way big ‘ol floods an such
Hell, I’d point that religious finger and stop ‘em with that righteous touch

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poem by David Whalen
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