How Simple it Is by Fabrice Poussin

It may not require so much to achieve peace

for just knowing that you exist

not so far that I could almost touch you

and I can close my eyes and dream of you.

The single thought that soon, I will see you

smile again as you ponder the daily tasks

makes my own soul grin with delight

and I can snuggle with this image

It is only a matter of days until at last

I will be given to the pleasure of hearing you speak

while your voice of pearls and diamonds

echoes in an everlasting song through the walls of the infinite.

And you will laugh as you always do when

a visitor happens to greet you in the morning

simply because it is you, and you enjoy the laughter

happy or not, the contagious glee takes place.

Guided by the duties at hand, you will walk in

surrounded by emails to answer, books to read

meetings to prepare and what must follow

as you plan for the evening at home and walk away.

Perhaps you will speak of the hard moments

the news, not always so good, of a distressed friend

a tear refusing to find its way to your shaking hand

and you may bite your lip to keep from a meltdown.

I know I am eager to plunge into your eyes again

to spend a few minutes cradled within your soul

so I too will smile, laugh, and speak of the sun

as it shines upon us and give you joy.

Fabrice Poussin

Days Without Cleats by Fabrice Poussin

It has been a week and a few decades

memories impossible to erase of years

when a child, he worked the land in the

wake of a father who rarely played.

He recalls the ball games in tennis shoes

when he dreamed of the cleats his mates

boasted with the pride of a Pélé, while

they ran with the skills of a blind man.

The kid had so many hopes to be

just like the others in the village,

riding a three-speed bicycle to the woods

not the rusty wheels he assembled alone.

All the years he might have a vague memory

of the moment when none reminded him that

he too could have celebrated a birthday

if they had the time to remember his joy.

Christmases and New Years too

disappeared with little more than

an orange and a few chocolate candies

images in the mist and nothing left.

So many gifts never received, hugs never granted

memories with holes aplenty in a full world

where he saw so many smile at the presents

he would never know in a forgotten childhood

Fabrice Poussin

Always a Stranger by Fabrice Poussin

(Always a Stranger is the first of five we will be running by Fabrice Poussin this week. Dale is by far a better judge of poetry than I am, but I think just about anyone will see the quality in this poet’s writings–Leila)

I feel the crushing weight of all those lives

foreign to me, and I know they do not understand

the pain mine, factor that seems to define my existence.

I think of those who may have loved me once, who perhaps

care for me a little today, but they move on without looking back

they have their own lives to live, and I stay frozen as a statue.

I cannot fathom the immensity of this punishment,

a continued torture that ravages my body and soul

for decades, I have been condemned to aloneness.

To realize that I cannot be another adds to the yoke

as I am so thoroughly trapped in a life I am beginning to abhor

useless, ugly, unwanted, will it not end today?

Fabrice Poussin

Instrumental Improvisation by R Gerry Fabian

I can fine tune your troubles

so they fall into harmony

and gently touch your frets,

washing slowly away

in soft melodic wisps.

I can use Am-F-C-G

to lift you out of doldrums

or

Em-D-C-G-G/F#

to calmly and carefully caress

perfectly paced intervals.

I can capo your resonant tone

to bring another dimension

to what seems lackluster depth.

Place yourself in my hands.

R. Gerry Fabian

(Image by DWB, of an improvisational instrument)

Awaiting Wild Garlic by R. Gerry Fabian

(Today we welcome back poet R. Gerry Fabian, with three works running today through Wednesday)

The sunlight comes through

the bedroom windows

at different angles lately.

In the back of the brown yard,

snowdrops show white flowers

while the wood pile is barely hanging on.

Up against the weathered barn

rest various sets of skis

that haven’t been used in weeks.

Somewhere in the house,

a woman’s voice is humming a song

about flowers and young lovers.

Spring’s a long time coming

around here.

R. Gerry Fabian

(Image by DWB)

Saragun Verse: For JB on His 84th Deathday

Genius is fleeting, never breeding
Then the City Times sets the date
It let knives of style cut out the feeling
And leave it for the gulls on the quay

I remember his beauty
Eyes the color of absinthe
It recall it dissolutely
Wormwood verses of another Blythe

Cliches poison poems
They die only one way
Then we must rhyme alone
See how well the dead obey

My emotions were once real
But too fine for high words
So instead of reaching ideal
I’ll fall back into the herd

The Health Care Snare by Frederick K Foote

(Note: Frederick has recently published poetry with us. But  he is prominently a creator of short, trenchant, witty prose, which we are happy to present today–The Eds.)

“Good evening, I’m Mavis Williams of American Evening News. Our program has been preempted by a special message from the White House and President Amanda Jackson.

We now take you to President Jackson.”

“Over the last decade, the United States of America has been on the edge of economic disaster. As my grandfather would say, we are surviving by the skin of our teeth.

To make the nature and extent of this threat clear, let’s look back at our recent history.

A decade ago, our country, regrettably, entered an ill-conceived and unprovoked war with Iran. That misadventure has extinguished over 30,000 lives and wounded over 100,000 others.

The War has cost us over 600 billion dollars to date, and our compensation agreements continue to burden this nation.

And that war has cost us support and friendships with many, if not most, of our past allies. We are still repairing these relationships.

The cost of his War, combined with the rising cost of health care, especially health care under the federal Medicare and Medicaid programs, created an unprecedented budget challenge.

Our honest assessment of our health care systems was that they were the most expensive in the world, but other, far less costly health care systems in other nations had far better health care outcomes.

Under increasing dissatisfaction from the public, the growing frustration of health care providers, and the declining number of private health care insurers, we sought a meeting of all the players in our health care system. The past administrations were open to all approaches to extract ourselves from our cascading predicaments.

And as you all know, we initiated a Manhattan Project-style development that merged the resources of our technology, artificial intelligence, and vast libraries of health research and information.

And with sweat, blood, and tears, creativity, imagination, and dedication, we produce a modern miracle—the Internal Health Care Monitor, or as most of us call it, IHCM, or simply, the Chip.

The Chip is about the size of a quarter, but half the weight, and is most commonly inserted just under the skin layers on the inside of the upper left arm.

The Chip has a living battery that draws its power from the body. Under normal circumstances, the Chip does not have to be removed; it is updated online and sends its information the same way.

All your vital functions are monitored 24/7, 365 days a year.

And this encrypted data is sent to the Department of Health Monitoring Evaluation, or DHME, where robust AI systems evaluate your health status and notify you and your health care provider when necessary.

In essence, you have the world’s most experienced and knowledgeable healthcare provider at your service at all times.

This health care system is the envy of the world.

For the last three and a half years, we have been testing and evaluating this system on members of our armed forces.

Three months ago, our evaluation of this system was completed and is now available online for everyone. I encourage you to read at least the executive summary of this fascinating report.

One of the many amazing results found in this 1,200-page document is that during the first two years of using the Chip, our healthcare services’ military costs were cut by 50%.

And our sick leave absences decreased by 60%.

In 73% of cases where medical assistance was required, no visit to a physician or care facility was made or required. Our AI diagnostic systems worked to a tee, and medication was prescribed and quite often delivered within less than two hours of diagnosis.

I found the results of this report absolutely incredible, and I would like to give my thanks and appreciation to the thousands who worked tirelessly to make this vastly improved system available to everyone in this country.

Now, we are ready to make this remarkable system available to all Americans. No one in this country will be denied access to this Promised Land of quality care for all.

Understand that billionaires and fast-food workers will receive the same quality of care.

Those who have no income will have the same access as everyone else.

I know you wonder if this program is safe. I don’t know if I have the words or knowledge to convince you of the safety of this system; however, I have Dr. Lisa Limbaugh, who is an expert on this system and will provide any level of detail required, and she will be here to answer your questions, from the very technical to the very basic.

However, in this particular arena, I believe that actions speak louder than words. My husband Godfrey and I both have Chips, and we have had them for 18 months now. With no adverse experience and have recommended the Chip to our children. That’s how safe they are to me.

Now, I’m turning you over to Dr. Limbaugh to answer your questions and explain in more detail how the Chip works.

Please ask your questions, read the Report, and check with service members and women about their experiences with the Chip.

I hope you choose to join Godfrey and me in the greatest healthcare revolution in the history of humankind.

Good night, and may God bless America and this endeavor.”

***

A conversation in a secure room in the White House between President Jackson and her Chief of Staff, Bong Yee, immediately after the President’s message to the nation.

“Damn, Bong, I need a shower. I feel like a used car salesman. How did we get into this mess?”

“Ms. President, the Democratic Party followed State Craft, our AI’s suggestions—”

“Shit, more like directions.”

“—on developing the Chip and on selecting you as our candidate, and here we are. One happy family.”

“Yeah, I still wonder why you came along on this unjoyful ride.”

“You asked me to, and we have been friends since law school. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to peek behind the stage and see what is really going on.”

“You know curiosity killed the cat. Any new info on the fucking Chip?”

“Dr. Limbaugh and her stiff-lipped crew of medical grand masters believe the Chip is performing as designed, and we should trust the magic of AI and move ahead with implanting the chip worldwide.”

“Damn, Limbaugh scares me worse than that fucking AI. So, what are our reckless scientific rebels saying?”

“Well, they are performing their test beyond the scope of AI, and they have evidence that the Chip has abilities well beyond what Dr. Limbaugh claims.”

“Do they have any proof of their claims? As if that would make any difference. We have to move ahead with this, this questionable fucking experiment, or be in debt to China. When I was giving my sales pitch, I had a strong, almost irresistible desire to cancel the Chip and take our chances with China.”

“I, too, would rather deal with humans than AI, but if our rebels with a cause are right. It might be too late. We have already implanted the chip in the military. And the rebels believe the Chip can impact bodily processes, not just monitor and report on them.”

“What a mess. What a fucking mess.”

“Well, AI was right about you, you have that combination of warm grandmotherly caring and steel African American determination that made you appealing and electable.”

“Yes, but I wonder if my main attraction to AI was that I am controllable.”

“Amanda, I think they may be wrong on that one. The rebels will be here in a few minutes with their evidence. How do you want to play it?”

“We listen and learn and ask every damn question we can. We do not accept or reject the validity of their information at this time.”

“We leave them swinging in the breeze.”

“For now.”

There is a knock on the door.

“Bong, I hope that’s opportunity knocking.”

They smiled and bumped fists before they opened the door.

Poetry Is by Frederick K Foote

Sometimes

Poetry

Seems

To be:

A hammer, a stiletto

Pretentious, modest

A mummer, a scream

Propaganda, the gospel

Fucking and sucking

Gorging and fasting

Ducking and dogging

Slick and slimy

Profound, profane

Soulful, senseless

Ass kicking, ass kissing

Soft days, sick nights

Hallow ground, wasteland

Nigger ways, White rights

Blind insight

Wasted words

Tidy turds

Null, void

Dead

and

risen

again

Frederick K Foote

(The image is Mr. Foote)

Two Poems by Frederick K Foote

She Is by Frederick K Foote

She is

square blocks

of white

marble

Substantial

in every way

Riding a

prancing pony

of pride

Hiding

a dark

nag of

doubt

Love in a Modern Time by Frederick K Foote

It sneaks ashore like light leaking under a doorway

It has the magical mischief of effortlessly joining the family

with a handshake, a hug, a kiss, a fist bump, a cough, or a sneeze

It loves the lonely, the incarcerated, the institutionalized,

the suffering, its love consumes them, banishes them, and It

is restless even in Its domination and seeks authority over nations

It humbles science, the military, politicians, and commerce

the world dances to its tune of isolationist separation

It alienates our affections and laughs at our insurrections

It will not accept our peace terms or unconditional surrender

It will love us where it finds us until it finds us no more

Frederick K Foote

(The image is of our friend, Mr. Foote)