Paradoxical Paradigm

Last night
on the radio
I heard a
news broadcast
on KYW
about a
crazy woman
in Camden
who went
even more crazy
and killed her
two year old son
with a knife before
hacking him to pieces and
then cutting off his head
and placing the severed head
in her freezer
(for safe keeping?)

Sure enough
the next morning
the headline in the
local newspaper screams
the terrible news:
Woman decapitates son,
kills self
This poor 2 year old boy
never had a chance

I know
I know
(as Forest Gump
might say)
crazy is as
crazy does
but that just
does not
cut it this time
(no pun intended)

You see
I suffer from
what is termed
Vicarious Trauma
a technical term
for a condition
very similar to
PTSD

As a front line
child welfare
social worker for
the past 30 years                                                                      
I have had to suppress
my own personal feelings
in order to
bear witness
to some of  the most
horrendous crimes ever
perpetrated against
innocent children
in a so-called
civilized society

Whenever I hear or
read about another
blood curdling crime
that is committed
against a child
I instantly
get flashbacks of every
child abuse case
that I have ever had
to investigate
during the course of
my child welfare
child protective services
career

The memories just come
flooding back
triggered by the day’s
recent events

I am not bragging
or looking for pity
I am complaining

I am complaining
I am protesting
the depressing fact
that children in the USA
are still having to
be subjected
to some of  the most
heinous crimes of
abuse and neglect
at the hands
of the very people
who are supposed to
love and protect them
the most

I have voiced these
same complaints
many times before
in various forms and
in many different forums
but my pleadings
always seem
to fall on deaf ears!

When was the last time
that you heard a
Presidential candidate
speak out about the plight
of the 500,000 children
who languish in foster care
from coast to coast
year in and year out
for decade after decade?

In the year of 2012
in the 21st century
why must
forty percent of all
American children
continue to live in poverty?

These are innocent children who
cannot get enough
food to eat
These are children who are
ill housed                  
ill clothed
ill fed
and ill treated
every waking hour of
their lives

I say God bless
all of the first responders
who do try to intervene
in the lives of
abused and neglected children
by risking their own lives
to rush in where angels fear to tread
those who try so valiantly
to save these
smallest of souls
from all the torments of Hell!

After thirty plus years as a
front line social worker
working on behalf of
abused and neglected children
I am more than a little
shell shocked!
I am more than a little
burned out!

As I approach my retirement years
I exhibit all the symptoms of
PTSD and Vicarious Trauma
which have become
a very serious
occupational hazard
for all front line social workers who
have dedicated their careers
and their very lives to
serve
save and
protect
your children and mine from
every kind of conceivable
torture to
mind
body and
spirit
that these unfortunate
babies find themselves
having to endure
through absolutely
no fault of their own!

As a consequence
me and thousands of other
social workers  and
first responders
like me
find ourselves
in far too many cases
unable to sleep
or suffering from nightmares
migraines
cold sweats and
mental and physical illnesses
of every type and across
every spectrum
that stem directly from
the stresses and vicarious trauma
that we have had to endure
in the course of trying to
aid and protect the most
vulnerable of the most vulnerable!

It is all well and good
to laud us as the
unsung heroes of our
communities!

But like the thousands of
war veterans who have
returned to the USA
with torn bodies and
damaged minds
our front line social workers
dedicated civil servants
and devoted first responders
need less
(much less!)
of society’s
empty gestures
and hollow proclamations
(or the tinsel baubles of
medals and parades
as well meaning
as these gestures may be)

What is needed
is a good deal more
(much more!)
of society’s
patience
love
understanding
and
compassionate treatment
for those of us who
have already
given so much!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa 2012

Who Am I?

Who am I
these days?
Who are you?
I guess I am still
playing Ginsberg
to your Kerouac
after all these years

Is that a bad thing?
it all depends

When will it
be my turn
to be Jack?

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Riding Along In My Automobile

Riding along in my automobile
My baby beside me at the wheel
I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile
my curiosity running wild
crusin’ and playin’ the radio
with no particular place to go –
Lyrics by Chuck Berry

One of the things
on this earth
that I love best of all
is taking my
Beetle Bug VW Betsy
out for a little spin
down the grand ol’ highway
that runs up and down
the East Coast
Route 1
either as far south
or as far north as
I can drive
on a single tank of gas

Betsy loves this old road
which was built before
the more modern
Interstate 95
The trouble with the
Interstate is that
you don’t get to see
nothing but Interstate

If you are proud of where
you happen to live
in these parts
and you want to show off
some of the prettier sights
then you would take scenic
Route 1 and
you would
put down the top
and let the wind
muss up you hair
all the while
breathin in that
good ol’ country air
callin out to the cows
and the horses
as they graze and
chew their cud

You will see the
manicured farms
and the big red barns
and the tall silos filled with
wheat and barley and corn

Pennsylvania has
some of the best
farmland on earth
It is the home of the Amish
and they have been farmers
for generations

Correct me if I am wrong but
I do believe that the Amish have
never planted a crop that has
ever failed to produce
in abundance by the
Grace of God and
with the heavy sweat
of their brows

As you can probably tell
I am more than a little in awe
of the Amish of Lancaster County
Despite their refusal to be modern
they have created some of the most
prosperous farms in America
and we all have benefited from
the bounty that they have
been able to yield from the
good rich earth of Pennsylvania

However a new threat has come
by the name of Fracking
which is a very bad technique for
freeing up reserves of natural gas
by blasting water under such high pressure
that the rocks that holds the gas hostage
are literally exploded under the pressure
The problem is that Fracking
pollutes the fresh water aquifers
that we all depend on for
the fresh water that we drink and
for growing our crops
The greed of the gas companies that
employ this technique seems to
trump the need to conserve and protect
the natural environment that
has produced so much good for a
great many people who depend on
agriculture to earn a living
Fracking along with
mountaintop removal coal mining
are the two greatest threats
to our traditional way of life

Once again
as with the recent
banking crisis of 2008
our peace and prosperity
is being threatened
because of unregulated
corporate greed

If this situation
continues unchecked
for very much longer
there will be
no mountaintops
to marvel at come Autumn
and nothing to see along
Route 1 except
the scarred
denuded landscape and
gas pipe farms
for as far as the eye
can see

We the people
of Pennsylvania
are all up in arms
over this threat
and that includes
the Amish and
the Quakers
(and droves of others
who also want to join
the fight)

I only mention this last part
because when it comes to
fighting the satanic forces of
corporate greed
it doesn’t hurt to know that
when push comes to shove
that we’ve at least got
God and righteousness
on our side!
http://www.greenPNC.org

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

How To Eat The Rich

Tenderize
Marinate
Season to taste

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

I've Tried To Run But I Can No Longer Hide

I’ve tried running
I’ve tried hiding
I’ve tried twisting
and turning
squirming
lying
dodging
slip sliding
side winding
shim shaming
flim flaming
shilly shallying
side stepping
hot footin
slippin out the back door
talkin a blue streak
speakin out of both
sides of my mouth
talkin with a forked tongue
pissin in the wind
fronting
punting
playing possum
playing dead
rolling over in bed
hiding under the bed
pulling the covers
over my head
pulling the wool
over my own eyes
self-delusion
self-hypnosis
denial
passive aggression
intoxication
self gratification
fornication
every possible explanation

I’ve tried every con
every scam
every dodge
known to man
every ploy
under the sun
only to learn that
I can try to keep
running all that I want
but no matter what
subterfuge I might use
there’s just no way
I can continue to hide

Sooner or later
the truth will
hunt you down
and chase you
up a tree
and that
my friends
(despite all that
I have tried
to do and done)
is precisely what
has happened
to me!

Amazing grace
how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost
but now am found
I was blind
but now I see!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

The World Is A Flat Onion

Back in the day
when I was a
high school senior
I was given the lead role
in the senior play

Getting this role
was considered to be
an honor
I was okay with it
though I was
not that thrilled
with having to shoulder
all of the responsibility
for the ultimate success
or failure of the show
(especially in front of
my family and
friends!)

I played the part of
Toby Kwimper in a
play called
Pioneer Go Home!
that was based
on a satirical novel by
Richard P.Powell

The book was also
adapted into
its play format
by Herman Raucher
and then adapted
to a movie version called
Follow That Dream!
starring Elvis Presley

I actually was able
to identify
with the part of Toby
whose family leaves
New Jersey in search
of the American Dream
in a fictional state called
Columbiana that closely
resembles the state of Florida

The Kwimper family
ends up homeless
squatting by the
side of a highway
where a bridge is
being built thereby
outraging local officials
who want the
squatters removed
by any means necessary

This is a long introduction
to bring up a minor part of the
plot where Toby
recites a mock poem entitled
The World Is A Flat Onion
(which was meant to be
a mocking satire
of the Beatniks
especially taking aim at
the so-called Beat generation and
the writings of
Jack Kerouac and
Allen Ginsberg in particular!)

For me reciting the poem
during the play was one
of the highlights of the show

I have never forgotten the words
of the poem
that go like this:
The world is a flat onion
with a bug on either side
no end and no beginning
 just a crawling occupant
to remind us all
that there is someone else
besides ourselves
in this selfish universe!

For whatever reason
these are the only lines from
the play that I can still remember
all these many years later

I often find myself
reciting the words
(soto voce to myself
as a kind of
personal mantra)
especially in times of trouble
as a reminder of better times
when the spot light
was  locked on me
and I was for a brief
moment in time
the prince of center stage
still in the prime
of my youth
and at a time
when I was chock full
of good health
when I still had my moxy
when I was still
at the height of all of my
creative powers and
just chock a block full
of just plain spunk!

Reciting the poem
kind of helps me to
stay balanced

Reciting the words
also helps me to
keep my creative
juices flowing
especially
during the more
difficult times
when I find myself
prone to
drying out and
shriveling up
and in danger of
being blown away
with each and every
passing wind

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

How To Make Hay

Back in the day
When I was a student
In the fifth grade at
John Marshall
Elementary School
In East Hampton, L.I.
I had a good friend
by the name of
Robert Tillinghast
who came from a
long and noble line of
family farmers

(Not me
I came from a
not so long and
hardly noble
line of landless
Romanian peasants
who came to America
mistakenly thinking
that the streets
were lined with
Gold
But be that
as it may)

As a class project
each of us had
to be responsible
for growing a
potted plant
(This was intended to
teach us all
the meaning of
responsibility)

In any event
my poor potted plant
was not doing very well
and since I did not
have a so-called
green thumb
I was at a loss
as to what to do to
revive my potted friend’s
health and vitality

I mentioned my plight
to Tillinghast
who gave the plant
a once over
with his seasoned
farmers eyes

Give the plant some
cow manure
he said without hesitation
Cow manure?
The words were unfamiliar
to my city slicker ears
Yep he said
a little crushed
Cow manure
that will do the trick
He even offered
to bring me some
grade A cow dung
from his farm
if I wished

That’d be right friendly of you
I said talking as country
as I could muster
but no need to go
out of your way

No trouble a’ tall
he said
Happy to do it!

True to his word
The very next day
Bob brought
a Dixie cup
worth of
cow dung
to feed to my
ailing plant

Sure enough
a few days later
my potted plant
had perked up
considerably and
seemed to have
a whole new
lease on life
and I received an
A for my
potted plant project

After graduation from
high school
Bob continued to work
on his family’s farm
(as he happily did
until his dying day)

Me?
I went off to college
(Hamilton
the first graduate
to do so from
East Hampton High!)
to major in
French Lit
and though
I have published
plays and poems
I have never
forgotten
Bob Tillinghast
and his little
Dixie cup of
cow manure!

And on those
rarified days
when inspiration
escapes my sight
I think back on
Bob T’s
sage advice

There’s nothing like
a little manure
to get things
flowing right!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012