Joseph G. Kozlowski is a published writer and poet who has a knack for delving into the unobserved currents of our world. After retiring from a distinguished career in the military, Federal government, and the corporate world, he now likes to delve into Nature and the arts.
Little White Lie
Upon reflection it was no more than a fib,
a little white lie.
She had done this numerous times,
nothing of consequence;
why should she have to explain herself,
to justify, perhaps to quibble
when it was so easy
to simply bend the truth, a tiny bit.
State what ought to be
what should be
don’t garble the outcome with debate;
it may turn into an outright argument,
raised voices,
turmoil,
unpleasant feelings;
she hated those moments.
Of course there was the occasion when
her story, although very convincing,
might be considered by some, not anyone reasonable
of course, to be a full scale lie;
That story and, gradually, others
had been, she finally conceded, a real stretch.
Though others did this all the time
and it seemed to her with impunity, zero consequences,
merely a method to simplify things;
why endure the prolonged discussions,
those interminable explanations,
the disagreeable emotional discomfort.
After a time there was the realization
that those occasional white lies
had graduated, grown
somehow become more frequent
arbitrarily converted into
ugly, nasty, uncomfortable black lies.
Then, when had she escalated
refined her methods
employed ongoing justification
no activity unreasonable
to use any and all falsehoods?
When/How had it become, “Me fooling me?”
when had it become routine to
lie to herself?
Looking back,
uncomfortable though the confrontations
would have been
truthful, in depth exploration of serious issues
might have led to resolutions/to
a workable modus vivendi.
a solid relationship,
a sustainable marriage.
In panic, she wondered, just when had
those initial fibs, little white lies become toxic
how had something so trivial led to:
-resentment
-serious turmoil
-misunderstandings
-infidelity
-divorce?
Wild Suburban Yard
After dark clever creatures of the night
resume their temporary reign
pushing us indoors to safely ponder
the sundry savage events which
recur nightly in our backyard:
A raccoon checks the terrain
seeking fattened field mice and tasty moles
or slaughters baby birds and eggs/
squadrons of small bats emerge to scour
the dark and cloudless sky
methodically devouring insect hordes/
randomly ravaging
descendants of the ancient opossom
plunder the garbage or garden/
as all give way across the open yard
a solo skunk regally dines
daring local rivals to intervene/
mammals, birds, worms, sundry insects
succumb in droves
as the “quick and the strong” prevail/
lying abed in our pre-sleep state
shocked by howls of rage/fear/pain
while numerous predators stalk their prey/
complex rituals and savage fights
rage on as mating battles
are won or lost.
As dawn arrives and daylight returns
we venture outdoors perceiving anew
our garden of serene tranquility.
Bang Bang To Infinity: The Multiverse
The numinous nudge, the quantum smear
Planck’s vastness soon emerges here
where random acts engender quarks
which then emit the proton sparks.
For now enjoy (Standard Model’s) familiar view
not take review too far askew
journey further down this trodden pathwell defined with linear math.
Where proton “stars” so near, so far
plucked electrons from afar
as hydrogen did then abate
to settle in a steady state.
Chaos had dynamic range
pre-symmetric breaking change
while further flux then in style
randomly produced helium’s quartile.
Skim beyond the now mundane
to all the oxygen and carbon-that refrain
and call rarer elements by name
conjure up their trace domain.
On radium and rhenium
dash along thallium, thorium, thulium
fuse and switch and blend a batch
make the very best to hatch.
We’ve entertained, its time to pause
with minor grasp of nature’s laws.
It’s here where now we will digress
to journey elsewhere in this mess
and if you think me somewhat terse
what and where is multiverse/
as we cross to quantum theory
before confusion makes us weary
where awesome math and introspection
map multiversal’s intersection.
Parallel worlds in theory tangible
though remain minimally explicable
blocked for now by disputable perceptions
thus confined to theory’s tensions.
As we’ve moved beyond reflection
is now the time for genuflection
as hidden worlds in some profusion
swirl around to our confusion.
No, we exit though:
in future we may more pursue
the non accessable with you
multiverse and superstrings
other strange and curious things.
Accolade
Ada’s free form “carrying”collection
-delightful, though too much
not too much content,
too deep, tief auf Deutsch
to fully digest in one sitting,
Peruse one poem, two, perhaps a few
then pause to ponder
to reflect, to fully appreciate the
outpouring from this
font of talent,
Next, genuflect before this
fountain of wisdom
then set her collection aside;
resume consumption other days
relish/re-relish multiple meaningful messages.
Around The Block
Moves from target to target throughout the tract
spreads glorious stories unburdened by fact
lacks any discretion, laden with error
Galloping Gertie, the gossipy terror
a one woman wonder, an unbalanced act.
What to do about tree next door
glares at the gutters, fence, garden and more,
those branches and berries on our backyard floor
tree threatens us and our friends with gore;
when storms come through we shake to our core.
Neighbors with class walk dogs after meal
and those also walk who are actually heal(s)
they use separate techniques for their doggies poop
the bad will ignore, the good use a scoop
if all carried bags, sidewalks clean and ideal.
Paul and his Patty lively patio people
their family and guests are often unreal;
hoopla begins with her brother Charlie
goes on and on and never ends early
though midnight arrives-has no end, our ordeal.
Friends blessed with large pool
and that’s rather cool/but
too often we hear, “Marco Polo”
and “good fences” don’t stop any yodel
so just want to scream, “Back to school!”
25 is the rule
a rule ignored by this fool
often alone but at times with a rider
Raging Roger careless driver
thinks 50 or more is actually cool.
Folks down the block
likely need a new clock
gutters are clogged, hanging in shame
snows never plowed, don’t know their game
folks down the block.
Our dogs and our pool, kids voices that grate
the noisy neighbors are us I must state;
all things considered here at the end
must reconsider my comments, make an amend
things neighbors do we ought not berate.
