Many of these poems are now available as a book of poetry at Lulu.com, called "From Here". More information: http://www.lulu.com/Mystified13 1. Traces And Pieces Your arms, your legs, your very self Live on in memory, but a greater mystery: Where have you been? I can't find More than traces and pieces now Sometimes by chance a fragment Suffuses my brain like light Filtered through the petals of a plant Or a tarp, a tent, or kite As though all that was left of your skin was this fabric, catching and changing The light that normally in all places Is so harsh, grim and ordinary Still I suspect you are there in full Somewhere, but in your fullness You are too grand for me all at once to see Like some beneficent goddess Perhaps there is an irony That your questions are similar, your Experiences parallel. But as with any Mystery I can never be sure. --Thomas Park, 2009 2. Get To The Point Please get to the point, soon as you can I am tired of pussyfooting It's the same experience, again and again Like having two opposite wires almost touching Only to fall apart This great message I have, for you to see Used to have words and themes It was like a template, a gestalt I would suddenly realize the content for this time And that would be my point That the sermon will continue as a note Of frustration, on a muted horn Words and phrases boiled into Melting wax, or liquid chrome or bronze Nearly silent Full of heat --Thomas Park, 2009 3. Heroes Everywhere While I gesture in such minute ways Taking notes, making comments Your life is lived So large You could clean stables with a river Banish nasty creatures Charm a beautiful girl The club in your hand is in mine Simply a pen, the bald spot on my head For you is covered with strong hair I am not impotent, but to live A hero's life as you do-- My heart would explode with tension --Thomas Park, 2009 4. Though Stretched Thin A character in a film said he felt "stretched thin" Though I am not old, I am not young anymore, either Not as courageous, not as silly What I make are fewer decisions and fewer mistakes Yet, though my teeth slowly turn colors And my hair as well, and I lose my shape I refuse to give up completely to sadness Or to what I sometimes think might be my destiny Because life holds secrets yet, if I can just remember Like nature itself, like the ways of my Mother There are things I have yet to see and understand Ways that are yet unfamiliar And even at the end, when that time comes It is for certain that one adventure will remain A mystery unsolved for certain by any man or woman That seems to entice me with hints of peace --Thomas Park, 2009 5. Inventions Is there something I could invent Or if not myself Some wiry scientist with spectacles That would be completely new Sometimes the place I go To find the seeds of thought Feels almost borrowed, or used Maybe that's why you can understand But like a light bulb only lit When thought of Or a speaker that speaks politely When addressed My liveliest of notions Do not approach the miracle of one human Who is a wonderful riddle That my best attempts could never recreate --Thomas Park, 2009 6. Wisdom Wisdom is a complicated gift One that many would rather not receive Like old age itself it gives the appearance Of weakening those who possess it Yet to those who have it It is more valuable than most attributes More reliable than passion More moral than intelligence The millions of awkward teenage gestures The hours spent obsessing over postures With the right wisdom, these wastes Could have been averted Those who are mature and have wisdom Are often not the most athletic dancers Because they have a secret for the judges-- They are wise enough not to --Thomas Park, 2009 7. Empty Again The creature, given the gift of expression First draws the bars that kept it captive In the same way, for the artist, it's the empty shell, The cage, the structure's skeleton Maybe the poets had hoped To achieve notoriety By abandoning the lines they had written I, too, have been guilty As advice is cheap and beauty elusive Of making a kind of vacuum Music that is a hum of static, no more When it came on the radio, then I had this question-- Is this The program in fact, or did The station suddenly lose power So I will try to dig deeper In a time that seems post everything To find thoughts worth sharing --Thomas Park, 2009 8. Chances I Missed I was not exactly a Lothario But there were girls in my life, peers Through school days especially Young women aplenty to meet and know And as I look back, through the blur of middle-age When new friends are rare and I have no wife I wonder how I could have missed So many incredible chances to find Someone to be with But like some crazed food critic I always found fault, some small problem With things, maybe so I could look better Maybe it's just my way Too much garlic Not enough salt That out with the bathwater the baby went And the future wife with it Until marriage seemed like some Strange distant fairy-tale Lived only by others Less critical --Thomas Park, 2009 9. Divorce They said I blamed myself That I don't remember, but I do Recall being sad, and afraid That my parents were going to separate Like any important assumption That gets taken away, the proverbial Rug was pulled, that's for sure So lately I gyrate between places In my mind and in fact. Dad is at one location Mom at another Each now with a new spouse, each has A new life I suppose I am almost used to The kinds of athletics demanded And only become upset Thinking of the relative peace I could have had Had Mom and Dad still been married --Thomas Park, 2009 10. Being Alone Having left the group, the initial Impression was that something was over And it often could be a time To sift through memories Like when a friend used to smoke All the half-smoked cigarettes after a party But slowly the feeling shifted Often enough to be called every time So that it seemed that something was coming There was a sense of expectancy Being alone was never an end, only a means A time to recall, then rebuild and repair Perhaps to plan For the next time people came around --Thomas Park, 2009 11. Chicago Reunion I remember that paper from college Not the one they called plagiarism, but A highly-graded essay, nonetheless About Beowulf and The Wanderer In the first, it was written There was a hall, tall and wide-gabled Maybe as broad and expansive As the shoulders that support Chicago itself And its spacious, divided streets Flames of fire swept Heorot, also Chi-town Though no monster caused them, that we know Also my essay days have ended, lost to Excessive habits and passage of time Until now, like The Wanderer Apart from the city of my inspiration I settle for memories of a distant time And hopes and plans for a future reunion --Thomas Park, 2009 12. To M. In the old stories, even the Gods Made mistakes. This time, there were no Gods, only human judges-- and I was Rewarded a title of sorts, called "Pithy". Back then, I measured success With high school grades then college, planning Ahead that far, no further, However with some degree of intensity. But you, M., wrote for the age We were in, not for some sleepless future Grad student. Your stories were Impassioned yet restrained. To really understand a poem, see As it unfolds, how things change. Similarly, I, with my small South Side Apartment, and modest income Marvel at your success as a lawyer And wonder once and again For though you were not deemed best student Perhaps you were the best practitioner --Thomas Park, 2009 13. Why Apologize As I wrote, I am no hero In girth or stature, too paunchy To wear a fur wrap well, and Balding in a way too obvious For champions But why apologize? The world is run by people Who look normal, not like Hercules Forgetting to shave, their Shirts are pulled out of place By stress Congress, City Hall, the Forum Are not places for supermodels But anxious older men, and women Who with their pens and minds Make changes vast and sweeping Mightier strokes than the ones With which they themselves Are painted --Thomas Park, 2009 14. Empty Bottles, Empty People Today was St. Pat's, on the street Were people in green, between Bars, or leaning from barroom Doorways And who could deny That famous velvet hammer; The sensations of pleasure and bravado Brought on by just enough beer But what a divine joke, as Like a crazed chemist you must Experiment with your own mind For a window up there begins to close, another To open, if this is allowed Passing out could happen, or other things That lead to morning-after stories And notoriety --Thomas Park, 2009 15. Caught In An Act Caught in someone else's dramatics Or possessed by myth-- I understand The Greeks thought that insane people Were controlled by Zeus or other Gods Why would I have stalked that man Who took you away, and what was my Thinking when you turned cold? To win you back, of course, but Was this like me? My timid self, which has to think before speaking Over a decade later would never enact Such strange heroics. It all suggests That lovers are part of an ageless tale Or set of tales, which no matter how many times told Are invisible to those enacting them. --Thomas Park, 2009 16. Elders When was the last time I heard an older person curse Or cut a sudden caper? Yet every day The younger ones around me Make gestures That voice discomfort Not fitting in If time is cruel to our bodies And vision and hearing go Among other things How mysterious That our elders seem so peaceful Serene They are maybe not part Of this silly set of agonies And tensions And instead have begun taking a greater journey With a sense of calm resolve --Thomas Park, 2009 17. What You Could Do You could Very Well Throw me out the window With an easy motion relegate These efforts to the file called round And sometimes I wonder Haven't others Said it better? Or is this to re-state What has been said so many times before? But still, there is this chance Like a ticket waved from a crowd-member's hand That there has been a connection Perhaps the beginnings of trust It is enough, and more to know That there are meanings yet unrelated Lines left still to create --Thomas Park, 2009 18. Much Like Yourself In rows of neatly colored covers As rectangles, they were offered: Hours of entertainment Each for some fee And suddenly I realized It's me against an army Or a troop of seasoned Vets Whose daily bread is art So what genre will I choose And will it thrill and amaze As many do Make a list of titles At the top, pay for houses And cars I am laughing now, I think not As these are not the seasoned musings Of top-ten members But rather the simple thoughts Of a person much like yourself --Thomas Park, 2009 19. Winning, Losing I am sorry If I took you for granted For though I said We had our ups and downs You were always there Interested, if not concerned Stoking the engine of my activity What if Now that efforts have begun To pay off and changes are afoot Seemingly for the best You have chosen Due to some dark irony To leave me alone, abandon Your concern It would only prove That life can be sometimes A no-sum game I cannot win without losing --Thomas Park, 2009 20. Commission Please forgive me, French Impressionists, painters, artists Who have labored for hundreds of hours Perfecting your work Because, though it is no lie That I enjoyed the museum And spent some time looking It was often not so long As could be All due to this mood-- where Meanings are elusive, and attention Bounces off of surfaces And from one item to the next So who would poison me with paint Or impale me with a paint brush Were I to admit-- I liked the graffiti en route As much as the works that were commissioned? --Thomas Park, 2009 21. Friends What is the kiss of death To growing thoughts of love? I think it is that speech Entitled "Let's be friends" As friends are not lovers Not usually, and you caught My meaning, but did you understand That what I meant was really to be friends Why hold back? Was I trying to be mean? It was more that I knew That less than amazing love Would not be enough for you For your great heart You need a lover Capable of clear attention A provider and a healer More than a comrade and peer --Thomas Park, 2009 22. Pulling Cords When I first faced the city Of Chicago, it was college-time I had slowly, without remorse Severed ties to family, friends It was a new life I wanted, my own Surrounded by people and things I'd chosen And though that seemed the spirit of the time For others, too, I must admit That those who stayed more connected Fared better Having pulled my cords and ventured into darkness I found myself suddenly less able to function Without a certain light of guidance I made some foolish decisions From Chicago, when I returned I had turned into a prodigal son Having eaten soup from filthy bowls And without an inheritance --Thomas Park, 2009 23. Realism Maybe, to be realistic We have no chance As times are hard, the planet itself Shows signs of strain And of course, there's that destination The one we all come to Whether it's an ending indeed Or a change of transport Yet something keeps us going An energy, a kind of Celestial glue Maybe even the little things Cups, bowls, shoes, talking Keep us drifting and bouncing Above the void I am thankful for those things --Thomas Park, 2009 24. Time Goes By I can tell that time has passed As all the folks on the tube Look so young-- the ads for Fathers show men A decade my junior The new music rings strange in my ears Like some dissonant hybrid Of sounds I would call familiar And like a cigarette Offered years after quitting I am tempted to reach for that idea Do you know the one? You do. That they just don't make them like they used to. --Thomas Park, 2009 25. Beethoven Listening to Beethoven It's the only classical I really like It's very strong, full of movement I remember Years ago I would listen again and again To this very tape, I think it's his Third Symphony-- and that would be My only thought A snippet of Ludwig's melodies Running again and again Through my mind Like the only constant, calming thing As I hustled around, worried, confused Years later the futility, frustration Ring clear- the woman he wanted He could not have And no amount of panic, distress Or emotion Could prevent a certain amount Of loss, and tragedy --Thomas Park, 2009 26. Nudity You might call it perverse This urge To reveal things personal Details, private agonies Strange but true stories I do not share in the lifestyle Of nudism, nor related Activities I am no streaker But on occasion I want you to see Everything about my mind And heart And history Perhaps for you to make Some final act of judgement And love me or throw me away --Thomas Park, 2009 27. Swim There are sharks in these waters So take care Don't venture too far out But will there always be Shallow streams of thought Stores and shows and restaurants Twilight neon Coffeeshops Matinees and openings Swim for your life Swim for your joy Jesus Christ On a popsicle stick When life is but a show --Thomas Park, 2009 28. Never Rest This is not really my life But someone else's The life for me My actual experience My mind and heart Are all in another city It is a city not so far from here Yet as faraway practically As a pole or tropical forest A city whose shoulders Hold up friends from years ago Whose feet never rest --Thomas Park, 2009 29. The Search Pulled apart at conception Like an amoeba Taken from its mate So begins this mysterious search Though your parents Give you little advice On the topic Friends and peers give much Perambulating along Through city streets Where is amoeba 2? And how strange and nice That a happy end of the quest Puts you back where you were Before your birth into this world --Thomas Park, 2009 30. Groupies, Fans They ran screaming to see you By the thousands Were you a Beatle Taking cars, vans, planes Over vast distances Perhaps to catch, if lucky Some distant glance For the rest of us, though Signatures are not necessary we can leave our houses And apartments without being mobbed Never once at a bar has a girl cried, "I know you, poet!", nor have I Made that cry Because we do not abide with the stars Instead we came from similar places --Thomas Park, 2009 31. An April Sunday A man wise and young Rode into Jerusalem Was praised and worshipped Was it not great? Leaves were put before his feet He was treated as king But to me, it seems sad Hollow, tragic Like the drama of a bad play For though the praise was right And the man was worthy of it It was that I knew the end What those crowds did Only a few days afterwards --Thomas Park, 2009 32. A Complaint If only to be a bigger man Perhaps more normal Who could change a tire Fix a sink Fly helicopters I would watch sports And enjoy them And my anger over a loss Would send you scampering to my side Consoling me with beer and words I see the way you treat him Though all men are equal His every whim is the Word of God While mine resolve in trivia It's hard, in the end Not to render this absurdity With humor, But for The unfairness For though I am little In many ways, inside me There is something enormous Waiting to escape --Thomas Park, 2009 32. Do You Know? When younger I would cry to my mother I had to It was like a ritual Middle-aged men don't do that At least not very often I am left with few options Writing a note on a milk carton At the grocery Posting an anonymous letter On a telephone pole Singing a sad song While walking And all for what? Not a crisis So much, but this sense of steady loss Like the air slowly petering out Of a nicked tire Do you know what I mean? --Thomas Park, 2009 33. We Replicants God made Man, not I And Woman, too Or was it a corporation? I notice the voracious Gleam in an eye, the tendency To hunt, to seek and destroy And so it seems The state of the art in bio-tech Merely represents a kind of throw-back An exposure of the drives That have always led humans To sin and survive Roy, in the end, if I fall, Will you like Christ catch my hand Or with an instinctive blink Watch me die on the streets below? --Thomas Park, 2009 34. First And Third You took first place I was third And what a difference These trajectories made I see you as from a distance Perhaps from below You are with your beautiful Son, smiling but avoiding contact Congratulations, then Though times for me have been hard I can't imagine you appreciate The great wealth of your situation Or is it ordinary for you, anyway? The cars, houses and children Just more headaches annoying Your fine mind So give me a nickel and send me a cigar Because I could not help but wonder What if I had been you And you me --Thomas Park, 2009 35. If I Had Won Prizes go to the winners Immediately their occupations Become, representing themselves, Reliving their victories Be it for swimming the fastest Climbing the highest Being the first to invent Or the best at conversion The light that shines on victors Is for most of us far away Starlight, perhaps, as we poets Are fond of reciting And there is something Of the revolving earth, the Daily baking of the sun, the pollution That winners soon forget They are above such things Do I know these things? Yes, Insofar as I almost won But never really did. You see, If I was victor I would have never written these lines --Thomas Park, 2009 36. Hellwaste Do sinners burn in Hell After dying? I can't really say But one wise man, A Baptist minister Believed in Hell on Earth For certain sins drag us Into a twilight world Of concealments and addictions Empty bottles, cirrhotic livers Diseases apparent and not Half-remembered words To barely-known strangers Who pass by like efreet Faces flushed red, scantily Illumined by a bar's rare lamp Temptations pull us under Like the curling fingers Of the jealous damned "Be with us", they cry-- "Join us." --Thomas Park, 2009 37. Drink Like flies to waste Thoughts tend to sin (If sin is real) Like a man who has lost his mind Who is bound to search Looking inevitably high and low Though in fact the answer is all along Inside his skull Forgive me, then For borrowing from the preacher's wisdom I do not often thump the Good Book But drink is an evil Almost as old as Man (and Woman) And presents twisted temptations For just one never hurt, nor one more Nor once in awhile quite a few But altogether taken Much harm can indeed be done --Thomas Park, 2009 38. Sleep If night is full Of Hell and addiction Still morning seems Possessing of a quiet hope It is almost as though When we sleep We visit a place of peace Some cradle our creator made And, nightmares averted Like little babies we rest and heal Until morning, when we take A gradual journey, back Into our adult forms Through sleep we are forgiven As sinners are when pardoned By Sunday preachers --Thomas Park, 2009 39. Moralizing I was never ordained And am no messiah Yet I tend to moralize For as I look back On years past Much pain could have been avoided. . . It is not for the joy of shaking a finger But to make honest appeals To what avail? Like a sickness or hangover No pain is involved until you suffer Like death, there is nothing to fear Until you are at its threshold But if all could be reduced Compiled into one small aphorism To bisect the long-winded rant Know this: never has happiness Been easily achieved Not by myself, probably not By you --Thomas Park, 2009 40. Temptation Jump from this cliff Said the devil And your angels will catch you This was the temptation One of the greatest Just to fall into you Like wheat into a harvester Or sunlight into a flower That would be our unity-- my failure Completes you My lack of independence Means we are together forever --Thomas Park, 2009 41. E.T. If aliens found My poetry And the writings of people in general What would they think? Some elaborate code, perhaps Transmitted in short bursts? Tiny scratches on a prison wall? Things to remember, like grocery lists? Strange shapes that mimic life? Would they know These apparently obsessive lines people wrote Reveal some of the best and worst traits of humanity? --Thomas Park, 2009 42. To The Clerk I wanted to tell The poor clerk at the convenience store The one I asked out Who said "No" That she needs no longer be Any more than polite Owes me no more than a "Hello", A grand total, maybe a "Goodbye" As for myself I owe eighty-nine cents for a can of pop Or a proportional fee for whatever I buy Now it's too late for might be's Almost too for might have been's It's not that I dislike her But rather how reality Forces us to behave in such ways Trying to give out I.O.U.s For losing lotto tickets --Thomas Park, 2009 43. Waveborn My dear niece We were together at the beach Kneeling, with your face to the waves You let the waves carry you out Your small body, out, and further Further every wave from the rest of us If I had been swimming, in your style I would have turned to the current And added my strength to its tendency And that was my fear That like me, you would turn away Pass quickly from view, perhaps from safety Simply by complying with the water's force Until you were lost from view And from the adults' protective world --Thomas Park. 2009 44. Great Dreams In fear or perhaps humility I bow to you Asking sudden questions Obeying requests Growing only after time Slack at your hand Like a dog on a leash But my dreams have been great They have taken me questing I've channelled the muses Consulted gurus Made musics vast And uncanny My soul feels old Like a veteran sailor Too long on his barge Having traversed a sea My hair is gray Not brown, as when young And my posture slightly rigid With middle age's stiffening pride Yet to you I will never seem More than this bowing and bending butler Timid as a child --Thomas Park, 2009 45. The Boy The boy who could not lose Was checked out by girls As David Bowie said Brought smiles to faces Knew who to tease And who to praise All his moves were right Athletic, scholastic, vocational Romantic, occupational He had a flair for words Was never misunderstood Wrote poetry that was deemed "Good" He could not lose, was always in fashion Kept up with the trends His hairdo malleable, it always fit in Always belonged As did he For the boy who could not lose Lived a charmed life Expecting always to succeed Until one day That boy became a man --Thomas Park, 2009