Bob Gaulke

 Sixty-Seven

flowers everywhere

music in the streets 

conventions turned upside down 

questions about everything 

then numbers came 

crunching billions in their wake

chaining eyes and minds

was it a colossal mistake  

I take off your granny classes

you remove my dungarees  

we rediscover an energy 

rumored to be extinct 

those were the times 

these are mine 

and there's 

nothing guaranteed 

I do as I like 

like a child until I find

something more 

interesting

As the past threatens the young 

As snipers build a nest 

the old question re-emerge 

grammatically intact

 On it

How can anything 

be a love song 

with everything going on 

how can we think of us 

against these flames 

in the background 

maybe lovers in Vesuvius 

thought the same thing-  

smile and pose for history 

we’re in the moment 

exactly like this 

how can anything be a love song 

so that’s what you thought 

as I make the world stop 

for a moment and you can 

put down your phone 

and take off your clothes 

if love isn’t struggle 

if love isn’t loss 

if love isn’t the finger 

against the darkness 

and isn’t what you hum 

on your lips against these horrors 

then I don’t know 

what 

we are 

 Slip Permission 

I screwed up 

and I got back 

to where I swore 

I’d never find myself again 

amongst the ranks 

of fallen men 

that familiar smell 

of failure I know too well 

and you move inches 

away from me 

seeing less of what you once 

saw in me 

I’m falling by degrees 

you warned me 

there are no 

guarantees 

and how I want to be back 

in your graces 

as soon as I can 

face myself 

until then I promise 

I’m not enjoying this 

only a little it feels 

too fucking good to happen again 

Flipping the Cup

Sometimes I’m a critic 

I try not to be a cynic 

I’ve been spun by life 

too many times that 

I’m not always with it 

I look for a narrow line 

I don’t find it every time 

but I often see you there 

and I’m so happy 

to share the moment 

I block out 

more than I take in 

as the glass remains 

almost full 

got a lot to work with 

I don’t give in 

I’m not impressed 

with every fool 

I move towards the beauty 

while I still do my duty 

I’ve seen too many movies 

not to know how this ends 

you make a convincing case 

that we could mix our fates 

together with a lot of things 

beautiful and dangerous 

 My fictional past 

my past keeps changing 

like a snake 

striking at targets 

changing shapes 

just when you think 

it meets its fate 

it sheds its skin 

shaking another tale 

of course I’ve been there 

and done that 

even if I haven’t 

dreams and memories 

start to blur 

what does it matter if I didn’t 

there’s no way 

to escape this fate 

adding layers 

soon starts to fail 

in the scenario 

of the worst case 

look it deep in the eyes 

and bite before it does the same

 Click here

 Gimme the unusual

I’ll take a drop of the tropical 

pinch of the atonal 

stirred with a time signature 

that remains unknowable 

gimme a shot of the unusual

send it over quick 

I’ve had enough of the banal 

to last me many years

One more narrative 

without a thread

several cut up 

fifties experiments 

a whole tale dictated 

by a pink monkey in pants 

a teenager uncertain 

if they’ll survive themselves 

give me more of the unusual 

before I go to bed 

as I’m not convinced 

I got any desire left

the one with the stutter 

and the bad teeth

smoking cigarettes 

in twenty thirty-three

fallen model 

disgraced debonair 

dame with the eye patch

and seven inch scar

we don’t get along

she’s been knocking me off

a little at a time 

what’s the rush?

another shot of the usual

you know I like it raw 

anything too neat 

just don’t cut it all

 Dunning Kruger vs Myers Briggs 

you don’t know you’re 

into it until you’re there 

then you don’t even look 

for a way out

you’re just enjoying yourself 

too much

in that civilization built 

for two; no one moves 

we just kick the tires 

and scratch the paint 

and are surprised 

or disappointed 

to find we can only live 

one life at a time 

decisions and consequences 

might not be your own 

I try to live in your world 

I spend your money thinking 

it’s a nice vacation from myself 

but the weather changes 

and you try to live in mine 

even when the paint doesn’t dry 

improvising the basics 

that should be second nature 

to whom are you 

speaking to, again?

 Lovely Problems

I love my problems 

I made them myself 

one day I’ll solve them 

I grow them instead 

my bank is on fire 

my love is dead 

piles of books teeter

only jelly in the fridge 

I’ve got these problems 

they occupy my thoughts 

I should be thankful 

for their hours of drama 

I see them in dreams 

with faces of dead lovers 

I ask them how they’ve been 

they tell me I know all about it

 My Immediate Regrets 

they fall out of my hands 

yet never land 

one thousand decisions 

under a single command 

sometimes I wonder 

if they weren’t planned 

just to throw a wrench 

into this dailyness 

my immediate regrets 

what I felt 

for what I did 

whom I didn’t kiss 

my immediate regrets 

have been left 

to fend for themselves 

amidst this ugliness 

lot of us struggle 

some of us wonder 

none of us discover 

the perfect approach 

for a brighter future 

mature outlook 

healthier creature

or just a juste mot 

I rewind the tape 

staying up late 

coaching myself 

for the next play 

but it’s just my fate 

writing my life 

without a backspace 

having lost my notes