Poems
by Gary
Beck
Stay Awake
I work five days a week
at the supermarket.
Friday night,
Saturday and Sunday days
at a fast food place.
It’s not fun,
but it pays my way
through college.
I study pharmacy
and take your orders
until I graduate
get a good job,
dispense your medications.
I’m always tired.
Some late nights
on the way home from school
I fall asleep on the subway.
One night I woke up
in the dead train house.
It was scary
and won’t happen again,
but I won’t forget the first time.
A lot of people at school
complain about the late hours,
the demand on their time,
the tests, the homework,
just being there at night.
When I started
I tried to tell them
we’re lucky to be here.
They didn’t want to hear it. Said:
‘Mind your own business.’
‘Who are you to tell us anything?’
‘Get rid of your accent.’
I don’t bother anymore.
Sometimes I wonder
why they don’t see
this is a difficult country
unless you have
someone to help you.
There are only three ways
in America
for advancement;
sports, crime, education.
I’m too old for sports,
don’t want to go to prison,
so I go to school.
I’ll make my way
in an unfair system
that only lets
some succeed,
but its still better
then other lands
with less opportunity,
more intolerance.
Sometimes I forget
when it’s late at night
and I fall into bed
exhausted,
why I go through so much,
but always remember
as I get up in the morning
good times are coming.
Ode to Mike Pence
January 6,
should be proclaimed
Mike Pence day,
since he did his duty
to America
despite threatsto the people,
to the constitution,
when some say
peaceful tourists,
others say
insurrectionists,
invaded the Capitol Building,
our seat of government,
to prevent
certification of the election
the democratic mechanism
for the peaceful transfer of power.
The Vice President's service
to a fragile republic
should not be forgotten
for he was a hero
on a day that endangered
the future of democracy
that could have been one of infamy,
as the police and military
did not respond
to the disruption of stability,
but Pence fulfilled his obligation
to the future of the nation.
The Hospital
Once again
I’m in the hospital
with no idea
what’s wrong.
I fear the worst,
cancer,
but I do not know.
The doctors
are not reassuring.
They all look tired.
Post Covid effect,
but they still have to treat
patients.
They will make
all kinds of
tests.
I hope they won’t
cut me,
but I’m in their hands
whether I trust them
or not.
I can only hope
it won’t be as bad
as my fears.
Upreach
You stand without leaves
mostly ignored by passersby,
winter tree,
eloquent limbs
stretching for sunlight,
waiting patiently
for leaves to bud
for Spring concealment
from intrusive eyes.
An Odyssey
I kept forgetting
the name of the street
where I lived in the Bronx.
Mama and I didn’t leave home
for a life of adventure.
We were transported
in a dirty bus
that smelled of bad things
to we knew not where.
After a long, bumpy ride
across a great big bridge
through a foreign country
we were deposited
at a welfare hotel.
The place was unwelcoming.
Bad scary men sat on the steps,
almost naked women
paraded on the sidewalk
stopping passing cars.
I later learned these people
were urban professors
of drug dealing, prostitution,
robbery and violence,
willing to share their lore
in pimping and dealing
with innocent young children,
offspring of poverty
exiled to horror hotel
by a cruel society.
