Blue Suede Shoes

You can do anything you want
But lay off of my blue suede shoes-
Elvis Presley

Yeah Mon
I can dig it
You finally get yourself
A brand new pair of
Blue suede shoes
(And I bet that cost you
A pretty penny too!)
Maybe a whole month’s paycheck
Maybe more
And you don’t want
Anyone stepping
All over them
With some muddy boots
Fresh with the mud
From the coal mines of
Butcher Holler
(Hillbilly for
Butcher Hollow)
Kentucky

I doubt that
The coalminer’s daughter
Loretta Lynn
Ever had a chance to meet
The King
In person
But what a fun
Meeting that would have been

I would have liked
To have been able to hear
Elvis and Loretta
Sing a duo together
Perhaps at a gig
At the Grand Ol Opry in
Nashville, Tennessee
(The capitol of country music)
They’d have been
A big hit for sure

Membership in the Opry
Is one of country music’s
Crowning achievements
Such country music legends as
Hank Williams
Patsy Cline
Ernest Tubb
And more recently
Dolly Parton
Garth Brooks
Reba McEntire and
The Dixie Chicks
All have performed there

It took a whole
Lot of doing and
Not a little bit of
Good old fashioned
Hard work and
Pure elbow grease
To be able to
Land a gig
In a hallowed hall
Like the
Grand Ole Opry House

Talk about
Pulling yourself up
By your own boot straps
Long before
You could ever
Even begin to dream
About those
Blue blue
Blue suede shoes

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Otzi The Ice Man

In the year 1991
A pair of German mountaineers
Accidentally stumbled upon his
Five thousand year old
Frozen mummified body
High up in the Italian Alps
This Copper Age man
Who was born
3300 years before Christ

His discoverers named him Otzi
(After the Otz mountain chain
Where his frozen body
Was found)
The scientists who examined him
Said that while he yet lived
He measured
Five feet five in height and
That he weighed about 110
And they guessed his age to be
Roughly about 45 years old

Everything that we now
Know about Otzi was
Gleaned from the forensic
Examination of his remains and
From the artifacts that he left behind

What we don’t know
About him
Could fill an encyclopedia

For instance
Could Otzi sing?
Could he carry a tune?
Could he make himself a fire
On some wintry night and
Hum himself to sleep?

Did he have time to tell
His loved ones goodbye before
Meeting his untimely demise?
What were his dreams and
Aspirations
Or was his highest and
Most noble thought
Focused merely on survival
And on putting food
Into his belly?
(Not that there’s anything
Wrong with that).

Otzi carried all of  his
Most prized
Worldly possessions
In his knapsack

All that Otzi possessed
When his body was found
Was the hand hewn clothing
That he had on his back and feet
(Made mostly of a mix of
Animal furs though the shoes
Showed the handiwork
Of a master cobbler)
And his copper blade axe
With a wooden handle
A flint knife
And a pouch with a few morsels
Of food consisting of
Deer meat
Some dried berries
And a loaf of bread

And one other thing
Otzi also had
An arrowhead lodged
In his shoulder

Who would
Want to kill Otzi?
Did a chance encounter
With a rival hunting party
Lead to a struggle over
Competition for the best
Hunting ground?
Or did some chance wanderers
Covet Otzi’s copper headed axe?
We may never be able to know
The solution to the riddle
Behind the life and death of
This glorious
Time traveler from the
Distant past who has become
Known to us moderns as
Otzi The Ice Man
(May he rest in peace
Now that we have finally
Put him to rest in a
Display case for mummies
In an Italian
Natural history museum-
South Tyrol Museum of Archeology
In Bolzano, South Tyrol, Italy).

I would like to go and
Visit Otzi some day
And if I had the chance to
Ask him only one question
It would be this:
Lei, come si chiama?

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

I Am Broke-Busted

My bills are all due and the baby needs shoes and I'm busted
Cotton is down to a quarter a pound, but I'm busted
I got a cow that went dry and a hen that won't lay
A big stack of bills that gets bigger each day
The county's gonna haul my belongings away cause I'm busted.
Ray Charles

When I woke up
This morning
I awoke
Broke-busted
As in
I ain’t got
No mo money honey
The cupboard is dry
And there ain’t
No food in the frig neither

How did I get to be
So broke-busted
Just two days
Before pay day?
That’s easy baby
Cause I don
Spent all of my
Money
Gambling at the
Racetrack and
Betting on the ponies
So sue me!

And now I have rent to pay
And a stomach to feed
And bills to pay
And I am down to counting
All the loose change
In my pants pockets and
In the loose change jar
That I keep for emergencies
But I must have
Already raided
The loose change jar
Because the jar is empty

So I have no food to eat
And I can’t go back to sleep
And I have to get up and
Get dressed and somehow
Get my ass to work
Whether or not
I happen to be
Broke-busted or not

No one wants
To hear my hard luck story
Even if I had
Someone to tell it to
Seems everyone these days
Has a hard luck story
Of their own

Every down on his luck bum
In my neighborhood
Seems to have me pegged
For a chump or
A soft touch
Hey mister
I am homeless
Can you help me get on the bus?
Hey mister
I am homeless
Can you help me get a bite to eat?
What do I look like
A frigging walking
Wells Fargo
ATM machine?

So I get fed up
With all the bums
And when I get fed up
I tend to get nasty
“If you’re homeless
What do you need
To get on the bus for?
It’s not like you have
Someplace to go!”

But now the proverbial shoe
Is on the other proverbial foot
And I’m the one who is
Broke-busted
So who am I going to tap
For a soft loan
To tide me over
Until pay day?

I hate not having money
I hate being working class poor
I hate the daily struggle
Just to have to put
Food on the table and
To keep a roof
Over my head

But do I really want to join
The army of homeless bums
That shuffle along
All day long
From bum stop to bum stop
With no place to call home
Begging for handouts
Stinking of my own
Piss and shit?
Hell no!
Anything but that!

So I drag my butt
Out of bed
Throw on some
Old clothes and
Tell my complaining
Kit cat that
She has to wait until
Payday
Just like me
She doesn’t like it
And she lets me know it

Somehow I manage to
Find a loose token
That gets me a ride
On the 59 bus

All the seats are taken
(What else is new?)
I manage to find
A piece of bus
To hang on to
And I take a look around
At my fellow commuters
And I see all the other
Wage slaves
With their blank stares
And stony poker faces
And I know
That I am just like them
And that knowledge
Doesn’t make me
Feel any better
About myself or
About my situation

I get off the bus
At the terminal
Where I have to run
The usual gauntlet
Of the shiftless and
The homeless
All of them
With their hands out
“Not today, sorry.”
“I don’t have any change.”
“Piss off!”
“Get lost!”
“Eat shit and die.”
“Fuck you and the horse
You rode in on!”

Today’s newspaper headline reads
“Four Youths Held In Slaying
Of Pizza Delivery Man”
Yeah that about
Sums it up

I can just tell
It’s going to be
Another swell day
Here in the
City of Brotherly Love

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

A Pre-Existing Condition

Ever since childhood
I have had a
Pre-existing condition

As an infant
(I was a change of life baby)
I had a pre-existing need
For parental love and affection
My father died when
I was ten months old
And my mother
Withdrew into her own world
Of self-pity and depression
It was said that
I was a willful
Baby who would
Bang his head against the wall
Until someone would pay attention
(For lack of attention
And nurturing
No doubt)

As a pre-adolescent
I had a pre-existing need
For a stable home
Medical care
(I suffered with asthma)
Dental care
(On a steady diet of
Candy and soda pop
My teeth were
All rotted out)
Nutritious meals
Adequate clothing
I was provided
With none of those things

My so-called family
Moved around
From pillar to post
Like a gypsy caravan
One step ahead of
The Sheriff
And all the Landlords
Who were always
Hot on our heels
Trying to collect
The last month’s rent
We always had to fear
The bill collector’s
Knock on the door
I went to seven
Different schools
Before reaching
The sixth grade

I have recently
Celebrated
My 65th birthday
(Who would have thunk it?)

(Not bad for a
Self made man with
Some very serious
Pre-existing conditions)

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

To Be A Poet

To be a poet
Means having to
Take on all comers
It means having to be
Fearless
In the face of the enemy
It means having to eat
A ton of shit from
Society in general
It means getting absolutely
No respect
It means having to earn
Starvation wages

Being a poet often means
That one is unsuited to do
Any other kind of work
No matter how gifted or
Devoid of talent
One may be

To be a poet means
That one must learn to be
A devoted lover of
All that is
Good and
True and
Beautiful
Even in the face of all
The unmitigated
Ugliness that one
Is forced to encounter
(And overcome!)
On a daily basis

I did not become a poet by
Intention
On the contrary
I became a poet
Quite by accident
I am an accidental poet

Over the course
Of the years
I have tried mightily
To become
Something else
Something other
(And just when I thought
That I was getting out
They pulled me back in!
Al Pacino – The Godfather)

But no!
The fates always
Seem to conspire
Against me

Once I happened to
Mention this matter
To a Unitarian minister
As we were talking during
The much beloved coffee hour
After Sunday services
And his reply was to suggest
That I get a frontal lobotomy
As a cure for all that was
Ailing me

Needless to say
I declined to follow
His sage advice

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

My Alma Mater's 200Th Birthday

My Alma Mater
Hamilton College
Recently celebrated its
200th Anniversary
I have very mixed feelings
About my four year
College undergraduate
Experience

When asked
I would often
Describe Hamilton as
A small all male
(At that time)
Liberal arts college
In upstate New York
(Clinton, New York
To be exact).
Where’s that?
Just outside of Utica
Would come the usual reply
And the usual response?
Never heard of it!

I do not often brag
About being a
Hamilton grad
(Class of 1969)
My tenure at Hamilton
Was marked by
Several incidents
That have left a distinct
Bitter taste in my mouth

To begin with
I was one of ten or so
Token Jews
Who were granted admission
(And there were only
A handful of Blacks
All of them tokens as well)
The enrollment at Hamilton
At that time
(1965-1969)
Was overwhelmingly
WASP
Half of the class was
Pre-med and the other half
Was pre-law
I happened to major in French
Following my heart and my
Then love affair
With all things French
(I spent my Junior year in France
Studying at the Sorbonne and at
The University of Paris)
(At the time
I was sure that
I was going to be
The world’s next
Jean Paul Sartre or
Albert Camus or
Andre Malraux
At the very least)

However
During my Sophomore year
The school student governing body
Saw fit to invite
George Lincoln Rockwell
The notorious American Nazi
To speak on campus
And though I refused
To attend his speech
I heard the next day
That his blathering
And thoroughly
Anti-Semitic remarks
Were well received
By all those who
Did choose to attend
This all American
Hate fest

As if this insult
Was not sufficient
In and off itself
To make me sour about
My Hamilton experience
There was the time
(Around the same time
As Rockwell’s appearance)
That one of Hamilton’s finest
Decided to display
A giant
Nazi swastika flag
Outside the window
Of one of the school’s
Dormitory windows
To his credit
The dean of students
(Hadley DePuy)
Forced the flag’s removal
Saying that he
And his whole generation
Had gone to war
So that the Nazi flag
Would never fly proudly again

The only place that
I have ever seen
The Nazi emblem
Displayed with so much
Love and affection
Was at Hamilton College
And that image
Is emblazoned forever
In my mind’s eye

So Happy 200th Birthday
To you
Hamilton College!
All of your dirty little secrets
Are safe with me

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

No Country For Old Men

Of late I have been told
That my view of the world
Has turned rather dark
And gloomy
Full of dread and
Foreboding for the
Future of the Human race
Now where would I have ever
Gotten such an idea from?

Could it be from the
Long blood stained
History of the Human race
Every since we began to
Crawl out of the caves of
Asia, Africa and Europe?

Or more recently from
The entire history of the
Twentieth century
The bloodiest century of them all?

During my life time alone
My father returned from WWI
And he came home
As a permanently disabled war veteran
My brother and his generation served
Both in WWII and then again in Korea
I was drafted to serve
In the Viet Nam War
And although I graciously declined
Uncle Sam’s generous invitation
The war raged on without me
For ten more bloody years

Today as I approach
My retirement years
America has only just recently
Pulled out of Iraq after
Eight years of
Invasion and occupation

And as this poem is being written
The USA remains bogged down
In a seemingly
Never ending war in Afghanistan

Glory Hallelujah!

And I have no doubt that
As my two young grandsons
Reach their majority
That America
Will still be at war
Somewhere
And still in need of more
Cannon fodder to
Sacrifice to the gods of war

When that time comes
I can only hope
That my two grandsons
Will have inherited enough
Intestinal fortitude and courage
To be able to tell
The military industrial war mongers
To go straight to hell
And to be able to say
Hell No We Won’t Go!
When it becomes time
For their generation
To stand up and be counted

I have lived long enough
To be able to say that
I have reached old age
I see the future
As through a glass darkly
Like that great old seer
Of ancient lore
Dr. Jean Michel de Nostradamus
I end this refrain
With a quatrain
From the old master
Himself

By fire he will destroy their city
A cold and cruel heart
Blood will pour
Mercy to none

However you want to slice it
This is no country for
Old men

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012






`