Green Gold

Inspired by Kimberly Melody Guiterrez

it was the year of the pop song
according to the boys named
after rapid eye movement,

or thereabouts, dates aren’t
that important anyway,

the imprint of the twenty-third
letter in the arid field was probably
there years before and still is there
all these years later,

twenty-three in fact,

give or take,

again dates aren’t that important,

either way, the man that this man
doesn’t always see eye to eye with
left a positive imprint upon him,

he is the model of excellent
fatherhood after all,

he was, and still is,
a duck in that lived
in the numbers of the
form twice a value
added to one where
the value is any value,

he has a cowboy hat
with a rattlesnake skin
just above the rim,

he killed it and scalped it
there sometime before or
after the first shrub
was elected to the
highest office,

but on this day, on our
way out to the imprint
of the twenty-third letter,
we are on the search for
a piece of green gold,
something this man had never
seen before as a child just like
the piece of green gold
that is caressing his ears now,

they were both obscure then
but as a youngster he was
standing in the proper
location above the
green gold, just
the fourth track
on the green
recording
that went
gold,

father and I don’t always
see eye to eye these days,
but in those days, he was
the hero and they went on
weird adventures and this
weird adventure was finding
the cactus that father wanted
to store under green plastic,

oddly enough, the pop bottle
that we kept the cactus had a moniker
of a massive mountain who‘s shadow we lived,
one that housed and still houses the first-alert satellite
facility, the one that warned the missileers
in this part of the world that the end of
humankind was at hand,

and the other funny thing,
it wasn’t the exact cactus
that dad had found but a
lucky accident that I came
across in those formative days,

we found that sometime later,

dad marked it with an orange pole,
an orange flag calling out a warning
in the style a band of male demons
would appreciate,

to this day, it was locked away
in a mental file of the positives
that we never bring up because
the negatives always leave the
longer lasting scars,

but, in those days, the father,
as odd a duck as he was, was
the model of positive experience
and hero worship,

and a model of mental acuity
that must have been passed on
to his oldest progeny,

the highway that runs between the army
base and the overbearing mountain
is numbered as a multiple of twenty-three,
and the other factor is the sum of two and three,

he truly gave and I truly took,

in the year of the pop song,
he was the age that this poet is now
and now they are closer than ever,
because who else is going to give
him fatherly advice when the mouse
reaches certain milestones in her life,

this poet is green, wet behind the
ears on the parenting front, and the
father gave him a golden existence,

and maybe the ditch, the strange shape
in the field next to the housing complex,
actually stands for the word wonderful,

whatever the truth may be,
the connections came together
all over again

Author's Note

Context:

I lived on an army base on the Front Range at the conclusion of the Reagan administration and into the Bush I administration. Dad was a captain doing what he loved at the time. He was and still is an excellent father. This poem was inspired by childhood memories of location, his love and the music of the day. After reading a piece by the one in the dedication, the memories of that year flooded back. This is one of my typical free-verse pieces in my typical voice. Hope you enjoy it.

Reviews

[...]

... i spent my childhood in a military base too... my father was in the indian air force... i love how you've brought out the texture of that life... with its multiple hues... one knows one is there for a purpose that one can't comprehend... and yet... childhood unravels... with all the adventures... complexities... joys... this was quite a journey that triggered a million memories... life right now is very, very different... but i do know that my childhood lives within me... immortal as ever... like you said...

whatever the truth may be,
the connections came together
all over again

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks, Serah. I am glad to have you review this. I have missed your valuable input.

[...]

... i'm glad i've reconnected with your universe of verse... i haven't spent my time wisely since quite some time... will do so now... thank you for writing this piece... i can suddenly hear migs from my childhood... and am reminded of tea gardens covered with fireflies in the evenings... and the crazy elephant who once decided to make the runway his ramp... and... and... and... and... :)

[Kenneth The Poet]

The night I wrote this brought back a flood of memories for me about my childhood there. Everything coalesced again so well and I think that's a sign that I should write a piece. Thank you.

[...]

... my mind is buzzing with memories since i read this piece... i might end up writing something too...

[Kenneth The Poet]

Go for it.

[...]

:)

[Antonio Valentino]

waww that was very impressive Kenneth.. off the top of my head i was thinking that the 26th letter was Dubya.. so i was going with Bush junior and then the multiple of 26 plus 5 i thought that was hanger 51.. is that the name of the place in the new mexico dessert? well, i was off but still i relaly enjoyed the piece especially after reading your authors note.. i too am from your fathers era all though a decade or so younger.. yes, those were my old days as well... i wish is some ways we could go back to the much simpler and safer days.. i was watching a show about presidents last night where 100 years ago, Teddy Rosevelt i think had to answer his own phone at the white house and that you could picnic on the front lawn there and even walk up to the white house door and knock and talk to the prez if you wanted.. can you imagine that.. well anywho.. thanks too, for taking me back.. im one of those politic nerds that cant get enough of whats going on these days especially with the election ramping up.. yeah, lots to think about.. great how you tied the music in this piece as well... very well done.. :)

[Kenneth The Poet]

Yeah, I understand. Thank you for the review. I really appreciate it.

[Antonio Valentino]

it was my pleasure..

[Ephialtes Jones]

damn. good stuff!

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thank you so much, Ephialtes.

[Ufi Auttorri ~ UfoAutho..]

OK, my turn. Brilliant! This is so much more interesting a read after our little chat and having some context/background. I can now appreciate the inlay of the wood, the puzzles and the pearling on this fine instrument. The notes, well-figured turns, flash subtle hues in the mind; for me at least. For a little bit of scribble, this is turning out to be quite enjoyable and extraordinarily interesting. Thank you, Ken!

P.S. Is this intentional? ..."a duck in that lived in" ...just reads rather odd to me.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Sort of my signature, UFO. I use mathematical concept in my work all the time. Any value that's one more than twice any other value is an odd number, hence why I wrote it. Odd, is it not?

[Ufi Auttorri ~ UfoAuthor]

Heh! ...you got me there, Ken. :o) I'll look at your stuff with a different set of glasses from here on.

[Violet Dreams...]

Beautiful piece it is.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thank you, Violet.

[Balkaran Sidhu]

I liked this style......golden piece..!

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thanks so much, Balkaran.

[TLK]

I enjoyed the use of circumlocution throughout, it reminded me of the Norse use of kennings. One favourite is 'Sif's hair' for gold, because in the myths she actually gets a wig of gold. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_kennings

[Kenneth The Poet]

Thank you TLK, as always.