21.11.15

Poem: DO NOT FORGET

Do Not Forget



I have learned to love you more with each breaking day

and I tell you I love you more,

than I did the first year of our lives

we knew together.



now . . . . now that grief binds you tight

in remembrance of those who are dead or dying.

Try not let death seize you in it's embrace

to know that each moment you are alive to grieve

you are also alive to live



I am not here to bind you to me

but only to love you

and my loving embrace

in support of our lives

lived together (not alone).



Death reminds us . . .

make time for the living

let them love you

in the depths of your misery, love and pain



death reminds us that we are all suffering

in loss and love

in love and death,

in birth and living.



Do not forget me . . .

the dead whisper to us

do not forget

do not forget the warm lives and souls that populate your life

do not forget



I am here to support and love

we need each other

we need others

I have learned to love you more with each breaking day

I whisper to you do not forget me

do not forget them

do not forget

do Not forget

Shhh my love . . .

do not forget

to live.



David McCullough

November 21, 2015

19.7.15

Poem Number Six in a Year of Poems

Uncle Mine

My Uncle is mans man
Not my uncle by blood
But more than that me
More than that to me. 

99 now and maybe a hundred soon
He's a betting man on the horses
Born 2/11/16 betting on making a hundred shooting high
Till the Belmont Gates clank open
He'll be in the running. 

He's stood by ailing wife 
As she sank into memoirs hole
Memories burdens laid at our feet
To comfort and adore. 

So off on his journey
With lung cancer to bear
not seen in too long
We all have our own burdens to bear
Nothing of compare

He's part of who I've become
Made by how he has lived and loved
Cared for and by
He is the one
Who's stood by

While others stared
And talked
Faithfulness flowered and grew
Worked and labored
Under love but not lost

My uncle is a mans man
But more than that to me
More than that to me. 

Running his last race
Shedding illusions
Spilling them
Leaves in the sun
A man .… so loved. 




17.7.15

Some Poem in a Year of Sailing

I've long felt the need
For the wind on my face 
Beating to weather
Wind whipped wave and fate

Give me a boat
And a sail to drive her
I'll show you happiness and challenge
A microcosm of life 
Upon a floating point calculation
In an ocean of lakes of liquid

I'd rather be thoughtless
Upon sailing a far reach
Following seas may roughen my passage
But it's where I'd rather be
Time out of mind

It's the sailing life for me my love
Too long left behind
It beckons sirens arrow
Straight to my heart and soul

How much longer must I suffer
These slings and arrows
Before listening to the beating of my heart?
To give in to what feels inevitable

To feel the unleashed power of wind and wave
The lines thrumming in my hand
Vibrating with expectancy and hope …
How long…

11.7.15

Poem Number Five in a Year : Cleanup

Cleanup

I guess, I am thinking, that it is time for more
for more of a continuing goodbye
for I am trying to conclude and rid myself
of the detritus of yes, you guessed it . . .
paper and files and staples and old rubber bands
crackly with age and dissolution.

So I run into and run over the memories of you,
lingering traces of your life and others and mine
inextricably wound up in, muddled and woven
a midst each others.

What shall I keep and disregard?
what paper should I shred, read, not read and scan
scan into its particulate digits and electronic emphemera of
scattered bytes of ones and zeros that make up memories and lives?

so this is not goodbye but a way of remembering
that between the tears and melancholia there remains happiness
that I loved you, you loved me
and that this idea cannot be vanquished

even as the years dilute the things we collect
and they become other people's memories
dear to their hearts and so on and so forth.

I still miss you though.
I still love you.
It is nice to see you again
but I miss your voice
I miss your voice.
I miss your voice.


     David McCullough
     July 11, 2015

Poem Number Four in a Year

Knew this would happen
that I would be late
then I thought I just don't care
any
more
then I have to.

Because there are not Poem Policeman
except in my heart that judge so harshly
so it is a day late
so it is
so it is a day early

quantum chance just spins and spins
in the end and beginning
it is all the same
quarks wink in and out
singing of missing muons

You are late and early in reading this
Poem Number Four in a Year
written on day somewhere between
the beginning and the end
the fourth and fifth day

it is written
that is enough
to make me smile
and shiver.

     David McCullough
     July 11, 2015

9.7.15

Poem Number Three in a Year (Productivity Points)

Productivity Points

I'm sick of productivity points 
The endless bean counting bastards
Assigned me to hell .…
To take sacred care of dying patients
Expecting me to ask…
how can I love?
How can I serve?  
When the only question corporate gods ask is …
Why are your points so low?
Why aren't you seeing more patients?
Go faster, be better, be more efficient. 

This ain't bout love brother 
this ain't about serving sister
It's about bottom line profits in a supposed nonprofit world. 

I want to love and serve
Not be driven by corporate Machiavellian bean counters 
When their family lies dying in my arms should I rush to judgement and say to them that I have no time?
That my points are lacking?
That my corporate overlords are monitoring my implanted chip and movements across the cratered landscape of insurance ruled medicine?

My heart bleeds for their malfeasance and lack of compassion and cold hearted  practicality. I accuse them 
of NOT serving
of NOT knowing how to love
I'll weep for what we have lost and rage against the dying and loss. 

     David McCullough
     July 9, 2015

8.7.15

Poem Number Two in a Year

I wrote a letter to my daughter late last night. 
Late at night my thoughts turned to her and to daughter or son never had. 
Hours spent writing of the love we share
Of hopes and dreams
I want the best for her and whatever that means
But knowing nothing is not much
Or it is every thing. 
We get caught up in the knowing
Sometimes it's too much and leads us to ignorance of another's path. 

But knowledge is power
Freedom from oppressions chains
And I'll preach the power of that till the State executes me for the power of those words.  

All this I tried to say in love so she may listen. 
Knowing in the end that these words on paper or not may echo down the years to the woman she will become. 

Don't live in ignorance. 
Do not ignore history and think you are not OF it. All this. 
All this. 
All this and much more
Of the love we share. 

     David McCullough
     July 8, 2015


7.7.15

Poem Number One in a Year

I have been thinking now
for a year or more that I
must write more poetry
or something creative for god's sake
if not my own
lest I go crazy with noncreativity
sadness
and pain.

my bright idea of writing a poem
once a day
one a day
for a year.

Ah yes I can hear my wife now
muttering in the rafters of her mind
'he will not do this thing, he will just talk of it'
and then my sweet,
my own doubting begins.

Except for tonight
no doubts escape
smashing them flat as they scuttle . . .
and I write.

      David McCullough
      July 7, 2015

10.6.15

Firelit

in firelights glow i sit
surrounded by redwoods over 500 years old
who dwarf me in thought and mind with all they have endured
while immutable testimony resides
they are speechless as I am not

i gaze into these flames
flames real and yet of my heart
and wonder at the hands that formed this burning post
from the redwoods i love and gaze at each day
who formed the iron lock?
still with hammers blow inscribed therein?

who formed their life and loves and what remains?
except the silent testimony of a life lived and a hammer
beating metal that last for a century
buried in wood revealed by fire
fire once so intense metal flowed
love blossomed,
shaped by hands long dead.

I am brought closer to my own past and future
forcing questions upon me of what matters and what last
while answers are uncertain
i ask the questions.
creating a life well lived with love
with community and answers answered
as best they can.

as i gaze into firelights glow
the raging love in my heart
for you, for what was and will be.
I'm tied to the past with fire and love,
Love and fire.
i know not where it leads …. only where i will go.

david mccullough
October, 2014
Camp David West

7.5.15

Whats up and a Moral Manifesto (or what the hell's it all about Alfie!?).

For the moment I am still living in Sebastopol, California in the United States of America.  That said . . . I have always had a restless heart and wandering wondering soul.  That is wehat I call a rich persons problem, understand?  Most of us in the world do not have that luxury - their day taken up by an incredible and unrelenting struggle to survive.  There is no luxury of thought or philosophy - just the struggle.

I am still working as an RN case manager for the Advanced Illness Management program for Sutter Care at Home part of the incredibly huge and supposedly 'Non Profit' health care system.  I love the job in some ways, I love the patients who all have a life expectancy of 12-18 months.  I hate the miles I am putting in, I am polluting our air sometimes driving a 125 miles in a day and an average of 100.  That is at least three hours in the car a day.  Would that be good for any of us? I know not. 

So without going into details I know that in the long run this job is not for me.  My legacy of patient care is good - I lessen suffering, relieve pain, make people laugh in the most dire of circumstance.  I am fulfilled in this way.  Yet lurking there, somewhere in the background of heart and mind is a lingering satisfaction and disatisfaction and wondering of what else is there to be lived?  And where? And how?

I believe that these are universal questions that we all want, sometimes knowingly, sometimes it may be just a vague unknowing discontent.  Similar to that idea of damn it, what the hell is going on here?  Why am I here? What IS it all about Alfie (one of my favorite songs so bittersweet in its melancholia)?

Viktor Frankl wrote about this in his seminal work, Man's Search for Meaning (http://www.amazon.com/Mans-Search-Meaning-Viktor-Frankl/dp/080701429X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1431051937&sr=8-1&keywords=victor+frankel).  For me the take away was that people search for meaning in purpose, that we need both and they are inseparable.  We find our purpose in what has meaning to us.  Without either we drift in incomprehension and more of a meaningless existence unremarkable in it's ordinariness. While occasional flashes of meaning and enlightenment may occur, in large part, we tend to live our lives punctuated by the sadness of living a life without purpose.  Hence, society, the marketers, the Ad Men and corporations step in to fill the void filling our hearts with the promise of temporary fulfilling desire.

So I have purpose and meaning.  Yet I feel I am stuck in some ways in my daily ordinariness.  I am so rich by some standards yet I am guilty of that too . . . I consume too much, live in too large a house, get caught up in snagging the latest Iphone or hooking up with a fantastic audiophile system that makes me cry the music coming out of it is so beautiful and soul shaking.  I live for those moments.

Yet other moments exist too . . . the simple human experience of shared lives and moments and destinies.  I am not quite sure where I am going with this so bear with me a moment . . . think back to your past and what moments meant the most to you, what memories carry the greatest emotional resonance?  I submit that lives led in quiet desperation occur everywhere across this planet and that desperation takes differing forms.

I submit to you that we have a duty, nay even more than that, we have moral obligation to find our purpose, our meaning in life.  And no, tis not to shop my sweet.  We have a duty and moral obligation to make the world a better place, to improve it for others and not just ourselves.  We must look beyond our own shallowness and selfish desires as much and as often as we can.  This remains a challenge - at least to most of us.

For me it could mean simply downsizing and using less in every way possible.  Riding my beloved bicycles more (note the plural use there people?!).  For me it would mean traveling more and I do not mean booking a stay in the Hilton while the poor people scrabble for food out of my trash cans and wasted food thrown out of the fat people. Yeah, just a tinge of bitterness there my sweets, just a tinge.

Things are a brewing inside my pea brain.  Ready for a change, anxious to move on see the world be of service to more people.  I am raging hungry for change and challenge, to race across the plains of this planet like a mad dog howling barking at mother moon crying out of justice and love, majesty and forgiveness, for political justice and righteousness, to crush the invaders and haters under the boot heels of loving kindness and meet them with a steely heart and endless resolve. 

There will be more of this later.  The only thing that remains is to take the action behind all the blah, blah, blah and more blah.

Thanks for reading. What will you do? What is your purpose and meaning? Don't cop out. Put it on the line and live it. I'm trying.  I invite you, all of you.

David

30.4.15

Contemplation

I'm sitting here at Plank Coffee in Cloverdale, California having just left my dying patients beautiful peaceful home where his wife, with so much grace awaits the inevitable. My heart breaks at times at the pain of loss, it's beauty and the sheer living hell and grossness that can come, sometimes, with dying as we move slowly toward what may be next. 

As I move through this oh so gorgeous country, listening to my most loved Hawaiian music anchors me to my own past and winds together with homesickness of my past and memories of the people that have made me and are making me who I am. I'm doing good work these past years, blessed work, at least for me and this choice still resonates with me to this very moment.