Meshach, Shadrach And Abednego

Four friends
From Philadelphia
Whom you
May also know
Four friends
From Philly
Who ended up
In prison
After a very sad row

It was all because of
Jealousy and greed
And a few
Ounces of weed
That two of them
Are now sitting
In the shadow of
Death row

Yes Lord
I’m talkin about
Meshach
I’m talkin about
Shadrach
I’m talkin about
Abednego

You see
Meshach was
Jealous of
Shadrach
For being the
Lover of
Jezebel
I said that Meshach
Was jealous of
Shadrach
For being the lover of
Jezebel
And now
They’re all in
Graterford Prison
But it’s still better
Than goin to Hell
Yes Lord
I said they all
Ended up in
Graterford Prison
But it’s still better
Than goin to
Hell

Yes Lord
I’m talkin about
Shadrach
I’m talkin about
Meshach
I’m talkin about
Abednego

It seems that
Meshach paid Jezebel
To lure her man
To the parking lot that night
I said that
Meshach paid Jezebel
To lure young
Shadrach
To the parking lot that night
And then Abednego
Struck him down
With an axe handle
And he did it all
Just for spite
Yeah  Lord
He did it all
Just for spite

Yes Lord
I’m talkin about
Shadrach
I’m talkin about
Meshach
I’m talkin about
Abednego

Meshach and Abednego
Are sleepin in
Graterford prison tonight
But that
Miserable hussy
Jezebel
She’s still
Livin large they say
And they say
She’s doin alright

You see
She turned
State’s witness
And they let her off
Despite
Her havin lured
Young Shadrach
To the parking lot
That  night

Young Shadrach
Never saw what hit him
He never even
Had a chance to fight
And I doubt he’d be
Much comforted
If he’d known
Who did the slight

Yes Lord
I’m talkin about
Shadrach
I’m talkin about
Meshach
And I’m talkin about
Abednego

There’s no moral
To this story
And it’s not that
Unusual you know
In the city where
Such things happen
In the city where
The two rivers flow

Four of them
Were friends
Two were lovers
And the one was
A murderous foe

In the city
Where the
Two rivers flow
There’s literally
Hundreds more
Just like them
Just like
Meshach
Shadrach
And
Abednego

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

The Laughing Fat Lady

If you were born and raised
In Coney Island
During the Fifties
You were sure
To encounter
The Laughing Fat Lady
In the fortune teller’s booth at the
Astroland Amusement Park
In the alleyway
Penny Arcade
Between
The Cyclone and
The Thunderbolt
And no matter where
You might be standing
In Coney Island
Whether strolling on the
Boardwalk or if you were
Eating a hot dog at
Nathan's Famous or
Whether you were
Riding the magnificent and
Indeed wondrous
Wonder Wheel
You would always
Be within earshot of her
Raucous and hideous
Peels of laughter

This rotund mechanical
Bogus gypsy fortune teller
Was famous for being
Morbidly obese
Long before being
Morbidly obese
Became totally cool

All you had to do
Was to deposit
A big fat silver nickel
Into her slot
And the fat lady
Would instantly begin to
Laugh and laugh
And laugh and laugh
Until her whole voluptuous
Fat body began to
Shake
Rattle and
Roll
While the rolls of her fat belly
Would shake up and down
And she had to hold her sides
Because the belly laughing
Seemed to hurt her so much
Because she was laughing
So hard
(At you? At me?)

The fat gypsy lady
Would laugh so hard
That the whole damned
Mechanical booth
Would begin to dance and shake
And dance and shake
Some more
Until she either had you
Laughing as uncontrollably
As she was or else
You ended up
Hating her for being
So damned fat and
So damned obtuse
And for laughing
So hard and so much
Over absolutely nothing

(Or maybe she was laughing
So hard because
The joke was on you
The natural born sucker
Who got suckered into
Paying the fake fat lady
A silver nickel
Just to get a postage sized
Ticket with a phony fortune
Predicting this or that
About your future
Your love life
Or a hundred other
Nonsensical things
Such as can be found
In every Chinese
Fortune cookie
Except that this fat lady
Wasn’t handing out
Shrimp rolls or
Egg Drop Soup)

And all you ever got
In exchange
For your hard
To come by
Silver nickels
Was to hear
The fat lady
Laugh her stupid and
Mirthless
Yet ever so
Mocking
Laugh
While she jiggled
Her big fat belly
In your filthy
Sticky and
Grimy
Candy apple smeared
Face

I tell you
There were days
When I wanted to
Strangle that
Fat assed
Sinister
Mechanical witch
So annoying
And mocking
And sinister
Had her
Deliciously evil
Yet bizarrely
Irresistible
Non stop laughing
Ultimately become

There were days
(And nights too!)
When I could hear
The fat lady’s
Incessant and
Murderous laughter
Drifting to my ears
On the warm
Summer breeze
That drifted
Through the
Open bedroom windows
Of my high rise
Brighton Beach apartment
Overlooking the boardwalk
And the world famous
Coney Island
Parachute Jump

I swear
I could always
Hear the
Hideous peels
Of her laughter
Even above
The cacophonic
Tumult of
All the hurley gurley
Mechanical music machines
Of all the Coney Island
Carousels
As they
Spun and whirled
In all their
Mardi gras finery
Gaily and madly
Festooned and
Aglow and
Ablaze with all their
Gaudiest strings of
Multi colored and
Psychedelic neon lights
While the painted wooden
Horses
And lions
And tigers
And
Bears
Would rise and
Fall
And rise and fall
Over and over again
Faster and faster
Spinning like
Out of control
Flying saucers

Spinning
Like all of the spinning
And bewitched
Pin wheel galaxies
That light up the
South Brooklyn
Summer skies
Like the Tuesday night
Summer fireworks
That sounded as if
The D-Day
Normandy Beach Invasion
Had suddenly
Come to Brighton Beach
Boom! Boom!
Over the endless
Peels of
Riotous yet
Ultimately
Meaningless laughter!

All of that
For the price
Of one single
Silver nickel
With enough
Pocket change
Left over
For a nedick’s
Orange soda
And a couple of
Nathan’s hot dogs
With a sack of
Perfectly salted
French fries
To go

So go ahead
Fat lady
And laugh
Your disgustingly seductive
And endlessly irritating
Fat lady laugh
Just like
Kookamora
In your own gum tree
(And merry
Merry queen
Of the bush
Will you be!)

So please
Miss fat lady
In your  fake mechanical
Fortune teller’s booth
Please do
Go ahead
Once more
As I slide my
Hard to come by
Single nickel
Through the slot
In your always
Open door

And laugh
Your fat lady laugh
Just one more time
(For old time’s sake
If for nothing more!)
And this time
Please!
(Miss fake gypsy fat lady
In your fake mechanical
Phony fortune teller’s booth!)
Could you please
This one last time
Please
Do it!
Do it!

Can you finally
See me now?
You have finally
Brought me to my knees and
I am begging you now!
So please
Go ahead and do your thing!
But this one time only
Please do it just for me!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit

If it is true that
Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit
That nothing comes from nothing
Then it must be equally true
That something must come
From something

String theory now predicts
That not only are
There multiple universes
But that these multiple universes
Have always existed
And always will
Continue to exist
Coming and going
In and out of existence
With each collision of
Dimensional membranes
Including the very special “brane”
That you and I call home

And if that which we term to be
The space time continuum is infinite
Then space time itself must be eternal
For only eternity
Can contain and expand enough
To accommodate infinity

And if we were to call the
Space time continuum by
Any other name
(Say for instance
“God”)
Then we can begin to see
How God can be both
Infinite and eternal
Regardless of how many
Multi universes there are
And regardless of how many
Different dimensions there are
That may or may not exist

And if all of what
We now know to exist
Is called
“The Creation”
Then God’s presence
Must permeate it all
Because space time
Is both infinite and eternal

In conclusion therefore
We can say that
The universe is safe
And that all of creation is
Every where Kosher

In other words
Space Time is both
The chicken and
The egg of everything that
We see all around us

For as the Psalmist says
“For Thou art with me
Thy rod and Thy staff
Comforts me
And I shall dwell
In the house of the Lord
Forever.”

And let us say
Amen

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

Angels With Dirty Faces

I am in my office now
Looking at the
Photo montage
Of my grandsons
(Peyton and Samuel)
That my daughter
Adele
 Recently sent to me
As a keepsake

She gave the
Photo montage
A title
“Eating Is Messy Business!”
And the pictures
Show the boys
With food smeared
All over their faces
They are
“My little angels
With dirty faces!”

To me
The pictures are funny
Because my two
Tow headed boys
Are looking like a pair
Of circus clowns
With strawberry jam
Smeared all over
Their smiling punims

During a recent visit
To Charlotte NC
I sat next to the boys
As they dined
On various foods
For breakfast and
Lunch and dinner

And at every meal
The food was
Flying off
In every direction
As if who could throw
The most food
Would be the winner!

It is not recommended
To sit too close by
This pair if you
Are wearing your
Best clothes or
Anything
That cannot be
Dry cleaned

But if you can’t
Make a colossal mess
When you are aged
Two and four
When else will you
Get the chance
To act out your inner
Bruce Springsteen?

Whenever I need a lift
In my mood
As my energy levels
Wane and plummet
In the course of the
Work day
All I have to do
To lift my
Flagging spirits
Is to turn my head
To see the pictures
Of my two
Special  boys
In their hey day

Smiling and laughing
“My angels with dirty faces”
As they are going
Through their paces
And instantly I can feel
A smile
(My smile!)
As it slowly
Creeps across my
Puss’ crevices

I hope this will
Always be the case
(As the boys continue
To grow
And as they become
Cultured and
Civilized and
Learn to eat
Like the proper
Little gentlemen
That they are sure to be)

Because to
Tell the truth
It ain’t much fun
To be
All on my own
With no one else
To play
“Let’s be a barbarian!”
With me
Or without me!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

Score One For The Home Team

Kurt Vonnegut is one
Of my all time
Favorite authors

I like all of his books
But I am particularly fond
Of Slaughter-House Five

I especially identify
With the main
Character in the book
Who is named
Billy Pilgrim

As all of us
Who are familiar
With the book
Already know that
Billy Pilgrim
Has a very
Special problem
As described by
Vonnegut his creator

From time to time
For reasons unknown
Billy can suddenly become
 “Unstuck in time”

In other words
He can become
A time traveler
And he can
Pretty much
Willy nilly
Revisit past moments
Of his entire life

He can even visit
His own future life
And by means of
A yogic technique known as
Astral travel
He can also travel
To very distant planets
To commune with other
Worldly civilizations
Especially the planet of
Tralfamadore

However
What Vonnegut
Did not realize
Is that this ability
To get “unstuck in time”
Can be contagious

Should an individual
Such as myself
(I suppose who just
happens to possess
A peculiar kind
Of  genetic defect
That might make one
Predisposed to contracting
Billy Pilgrim’s illness)
Happen to read a copy
Of  Slaughter-House Five
It is entirely possible
 That such an individual
Can in fact
 Actually contract
“Billy Pilgrim Disease”
Also known as
“Tralfamadorian Syndrome”

Truth be told
I am such a person and
I have contracted
Billy Pilgrim disease!
(After many readings and
Re-readings of
Slaughter-House Five!)

Now
Just like Billy Pilgrim
I too have
“Tralfamadorian Syndrome”
And now
Again just like Billy Pilgrim
I too can become
“Unstuck in time”

I too can revisit
And relive
The past moments
Of my previous life
(And even  past moments
In previous lives
That I have lived and
That are still being lived
In alternative dimensions!
Move over Shirley MacClaine!)

Now ain’t that
A kick in the head?
(Stay tuned for
More such
Adventurous poems
To follow!)

Thank you
Kurt Vonnegut and
Thank you again
(I think)
For having had the genius
To have been able
To produce such
A masterpiece as
Slaughter House Five
In the first place!

Jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

Hiking Alone In The Woods

While I was hiking
Alone
In the woods
On a snowy
Winter’s night
I just happened
To cross paths
With  a small
Brown eyed fawn
Paralyzed with
Fright

She had
Stopped dead
In her tracks
To stare at me
With baited breath
As if to determine
If I were a
Friend or foe or
Perhaps some
Harbinger of death

We stayed like that
Some minutes longer
Eyeing each other
From afar  
“I’ll just stay over here”
She seemed to be saying
“You just stay
Where you are!”

And then
In the bat of an eye
She was gone

So much for my
One brief encounter
With a fawn

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

Today

Today especially
But not just today
I am feeling
Like a proper
Wanker right now
Which is just
Another way
Of saying that
I am feeling
Very poorly

 I am fairly certain
It is my diabetes
Acting up on me
Diabetes and
A whole slew of
Other things too
A proper stew of
Miseries almost
Too numerous to mention

Though I somehow managed
To drag myself to work today
I keep wanting to
Fall off of my chair
And to just
Lay down on the ground
To just curl up
So that I can take a proper
Snooze

I’ve already
Used up my supply of
Insulin
And now I‘ve got to go out
And score some more

I am planning to do it
Today or tomorrow
As soon as I can cop
Some more money

I do not know
For certain
If insulin
Is addictive or not
But it sure does
Feel like it is

I’ve got to stop
Writing now because
I am feeling just
Too punk to
Write

Some time later
Same day

(After I’ve washed my face
With cold water and
Tried to catch some sleep
At my desk)

These days
I make sure to
Write things down
On my shopping list
To remind myself to buy
Stuff that I really need
But that I  always
Seem to suddenly forget
By the time
I get myself to the store

This time
I need to make sure
To buy some Aleve
At the RiteAid
Today or tomorrow
To assuage the shooting pains
In my neuropathized (sp?) legs

And now that I
Come to think of it
I’m also really sick
And tired of having
To walk past
The HQ for the
Philadelphia Catholic Diocese
On my way to
Family Court
And being forced to see
Jesus
Still hanging on his cross
After all of these years

He really doesn’t look
Very well at all
With his crown of thorns and
Lintel cloth covering his groin
His arms look so tired
Aching to be let loose
He looks like I feel

I am thinking that
He needs to be allowed
To get some sleep
He needs to be allowed
To get some rest
He needs to be allowed
To dream of better days
To come

Maybe one of these days
I will come back
With a hammer and chisel
And I will set him free

I am sure that
The newspapers would
Call such an act
An act of
Wanton vandalism

Not me
I would rather call it
A wanton an act of
Mercy
I would rather call it
A wanton act of
Charity

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2011