Rapa Nui Syndrome

Rapa Nui
Also known as
Easter Island
Is claimed to be
The most remote
Inhabited island
In the world
It is the home of
The Bird Man Cult and of
The giant sized
Man made sculptures
Known as
The Moai

Rapa Nui has been
Continuously occupied
By the Rapa Nuians
Since the earliest days
Of human history
(They rowed over
In their dug out canoes
From Chile
And they have since
Been officially
Annexed by Chile in 1888)
Rapa Nui is located
At the southeastern most point of
The Polynesian Triangle

Rapa Nui is most
Famous for its 887
Monumental statues
Called Moai
Representations of
The Ancient Ancestors
Thought to bring the
Islanders
Good luck and
Good fortune
If they were properly built
And were found to be
Pleasing to the
Polynesian gods
Though today
Rapa Nui has been declared
A World Heritage Site by
UNESCO
With much of the island protected
Within Rapa Nui National Park
In modern times
Rapa Nui
Has come to serve as a
Warning
Of the cultural and
Environmental
Dangers of
Overexploitation
Of the natural environment

In order to move the Moai
From the stone quarry
To the coast line
The Rapa Nuians
Chopped down
Every palm tree
On the island
(All 8 million of them!)
Thereby creating a
Colossal
Environmental catastrophe

Without the palm trees
The natives could not
Build their out rigger canoes
To go fishing
In the deep waters
Where the big fish swam
The island could no longer
Sustain the population
And the starving people
Turned to cannibalism

In a fit of rage and rebellion
The Rap Nuians
Overturned the now hated Moai
As symbols of the failed
Religious cult of ancestor worship

It does not require a
Great leap of imagination
To understand
That all of us humans
Who today share
The limited resources
Of this
Tiny blue green
Island world called
Planet Earth
Had better learn
The same lessons that the
Rapa Nuians
Had to learn the hard way
Before it is too late
For us all!
We are all
Rapa Nuians now!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Mac And Me

So as I was sayin to my 
Good old buddy Mac
Just the other day
The main reason
That things are still
Mostly the same
Is that
It just beez that way
Sometimes
How do you mean?
Well like I was sayin
Back in the day
How far back are we talkin?
Back before Moses wore shorts
Okay?
That far back?
At least
If things could’ve been different
Then they would’ve been
But bein that they couldn’t
They wasn’t
You get my drift?
I think I do
What I’m tryin to say is
No matter how you cut it
The Man has it fixed
So that the more things change
The more things stay the same
You dig?
You mean to say that
the more things change
the more things stay
the same ol’
same ol’?
Now you feelin me Cuz!
So why you be
Pullin on my shirt
about all this now?
Because you still
Owe me fifteen bucks
Since last month
Dog
And I still ain’t seen
None of it
No how!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

One Hand Clappin

Well I've got a friend
Way over town
Who’s no good to me oh yeah
I say I got a so-called friend
Way over town
Who’s no good to me oh yeah
He don’t give me money
When I’m in need
Yeah he’s the kind of friend
That I really don’t need

He writes his poems
Early in the mornin
So no one else can see oh yeah
I say he writes his poems
Early in the mornin
So no one else can see
He can write them poems so hard
Or he can write them  tenderly

(Sax Solo)

He reads my poems
That I send to him
Both day and night
He never grumbles
Or fusses
But he never tweets me right
Matter of fact
He never says nothin at all
And I say that just ain’t right

He’s like the sound of
One hand clappin
And you know
That drives me crazy
He’s like the sound of
One hand clappin
But that don’t mean he’s lazy

He just don’t waste no time
With no small talk or cryin
But he won’t even share
A glass of wine
Unless I say I’m buyin
He’s no good for me
So why do I keep on tryin?

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Hitting The Wall

Not wanting to admit
to yourself that your marriage
of umpteen years
has reached a dead end
and that the woman
who you once thought was
the love of your life
can now no longer
bear the sight of you
is called
Hitting the wall

Not wanting to admit
to yourself that you have
reached retirement age and
that your working career
for all intents and purposes
is over
and that at your current age
you will
never again hold a
job that is worthy of
your talents or one
that will
compensate you
with enough income
to actually pay for
your living expenses
is called
Hitting the wall

Receiving a diagnosis informing you
that you have a chronic medical condition
that has no cure
forcing you to become a
pin cushion and
push- me pull-me toy
of the jaded and corrupt
so-called health care/
medical provider system
is called
Hitting the wall


Having to suffer the final
indignity of ending up
all alone
in a nursing home
(and that is if you are lucky
enough to find one that
will accept you)
and knowing that
you have begun
the final chapter in your life

Having to make all of
the pre-arrangements
for your own funeral
because you have
no significant other
who can be trusted enough
or who can be bothered enough
to do this for you

Having to watch helplessly as
your circle of friends
(and blood relatives)
becomes smaller
and smaller
with  each untimely death

Having to purchase
an electronic monitoring device
to summon aid
in case you fall and
can’t get up
because you live alone and
there is no one else around to
hear your cries for help

Having to decide between
buying food to eat or
paying for your medications
or having to pay for the rent

Having to give up
so many of the things
that you once loved to do
because you are no longer
physically able or
mentally capable
of doing them

All of these things
(and the list is far
from complete)
whether suffered
separately or
in combination
add up to
the existential phenomenon
known as
Hitting the wall

Which kind of
helps to explain
(in a perverse way)
why NASCAR
has become
America’s
number one
fastest growing
spectator sport!

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Self Inflicted Wounds

When I find myself
In times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom 
Let it be – 
Lyrics by the Beatles

And in my hour of deepest darkness
Mother Mary also came to me
Saying let it go until tomorrow
And let yourself go free

Half a bottle of scotch already gone
Alcohol poisoning starting to settle in
All the world covered in darkness
As the room begins to spin

When Mickey finally
Comes back to open
Our shared dorm room door
He finds me passed out
Barely breathing
On the cold living room floor

When I was once again able to
Open up my eyes
My head was hanging in the loo
And my arms were
Wrapped around the toilet’s thighs
My face several different
Shades of blue

I was vomiting green bile
By the time most of the convulsions
Finally stopped
Mickey had somehow managed
To get me out of my stinking clothes
And the floors he’d already mopped

He stood me up naked
And forced me to stand
In the cold shower rain
And then he
Unceremoniously
Threw me into my bed
And left me to my pain

I probably owe Mickey my life
But I don’t think those words
Were ever actually said
I mumbled that he’d make
Some lucky man
A pretty good wife
He just ignored me
As he placed a pillow
Under my head

When I finally came to
(Several hours later)
I hardly felt human
(More like an alligator)

It was the worst hang over
That I had ever known
And all I could do was
To hang my head and moan

That settles it then
Said Mickey
Shaking his head
And clucking his tongue
In his best pre-med
Bedside manner

You’ve been warned!
You’ve been cut off!

No more Sartre
Or Camus for you!
He said
You low down
Miserable sinner!


jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

Like A Pebble In My Shoe

I have a trumpet at home
That I call lulu bell
I’ve been a trumpet player
Ever since junior high school
And I am very proud
To say so

I love the voice that
Playing the trumpet
Gives to me
I like the high shrill notes
Like taking the loop
At the top
Of the rollercoaster
And I like to go fishing
For the low bass notes
That hide in the
Dark waters
Of the musical scale
(Bottom fishing
As I like to call it)
I play more than
One instrument
And I am always
Eager to pick up
Something new
That I never tried before

I have a hunger
For the bow fiddle
Blue grass style
New Orleans style
(Are You Washed
In the Blood of the Lamb?)

When I first got divorced
One of the first things my ex did
Was to sell my trumpet
(Along with my golf clubs
And anything else of mine
That she could lay her hands on)

What she did has always
Stuck in my craw
And it has always
Bothered me
(Even now
All these years later
Like a pebble in my shoe)

But I am older and
Hopefully wiser now
(What’s that they say
Once bitten twice shy?)
I can sure vouch for that

jhmarkowitz
Philadelphia, Pa. 2012

How To Win By Default

After one’s planned

Life trajectory

Has been thrown

All out of kilter

By circumstances

Entirely out of

One’s control

What is one to do?

How does one

Go about

Regaining some

Semblance of

Control over

One’s own destiny?

(Assuming that

We all do have

Some kind of

Planned destiny

To begin with)

Looking back

(With all of

The benefit

Of hindsight)

I should say

That it was

My planned destiny

To follow in the

Footsteps of

My seventh

Eighth and ninth grade

French teachers

To become

In the fullness of time

A junior high school

Teacher of French

In my own right

(Bonjour la classe

My name is

Monsieur Millet

Mademoiselle Fitzpatrick

Monsieur Martin

Monsieur Hamlin

Monsieur Moraud

My French teachers and mentors

From grades six through

College senior year

Not to mention

A one year stint

At the

University of Paris

And the legendary

And deservedly famous

Sorbonne)

But no!

T’was not meant to be!

Try as I might

To crash the doors of

Academia

One obstacle after another

Appeared to

Dash my ambitions

Not one to cry

In my milk

I looked elsewhere

For job options

That ultimately

Took me down a

Very different

(And totally unexpected)

Path to fame and fortune

I had found a way

To win by default

Speaking of

Winning by default

About a year ago

I was down south

Visiting some of

my relatives

Two grandsons

Down south in

Charlotte, North Carolina

My relations

 Thought it would be nice

To spend a sunny late summer

Afternoon at what passed

For the local zoo

The place was privately run

(And truth be told

It did not seem to be as

Well kept up as

One might hope and expect
It to be

In fact it all seemed

To be a bit seedy to me)

For the most part

The wide variety of animals

(Including one very

affectionate giraffe!)

Did seem to be properly cared for

Until we came to the

Monkey cage

That looked more or less

Like a POW camp

For primates

The cage held

Only one occupant

A rather old

Mangy looking

Chimpanzee

He was too far from the walkway

For visitors to interact with him

(Deliberately so?)

And my heart immediately

Went out to him

So lonely and miserable

Did he appear to be

Visitors were not allowed to feed him

All that we could do

Was to stare back at each other

Across the no man’s land

That had been created

To keep people away

(For his protection or ours?) 

He did not appear to be dangerous

But there was a great sadness and

Desperation in his eyes

That just broke my heart to see

We watched him watching us

As he paced back and forth

And back and forth

And back and forth

In his caged compound

Like a condemned prisoner

Serving out his sentence

I found the scene

To be depressing

And I was glad

As we began to move along

When suddenly

The chimp began to scream

As if begging us not leave him

We stopped and turned around

As the monkey

Threw himself on the ground

And began caressing the grass

As he might do if he were

Clinging to his mother’s breast

And perhaps in his mind he was

He was trying to duplicate

The hugging contact that all

Chimps in the wild need and crave

All he wanted

Was to be held and hugged

Much as we humans all crave

To be hugged and touched

And I would have

Liked to have been able

To give him a hug

(If only I could)

Best we be heading on home

Said my cousin

Pulling her two boys by their arms

How about some hot dogs and

Hamburgers for dinner?

She said knowing the boys would

Be appreciative

I looked back at the chimp

As we all piled back

Into the minivan

for the trip back home

Poor chimp I thought to myself

I guess that hugging

The ground like he did

Was the best that he could do

Given the circumstances he was in

I guess it was his way of coping

With a bad situation

I guess it was his way of

Winning by default

jhmarkowitz

Philadelphia, Pa. 2012