I'm from Missouri

 

I’m from Missouri, the Show Me State.

Born and raised here in Heartland America.

It’s an okay State, I suppose, as States go—

Home of Mark Twain, Walt Disney, Walter

Cronkite, Maya Angelou and Harry Truman.

It’s also the infamous place noted in history

for the dreaded Dred Scott Decision and the

Missouri Compromise. In the Civil War it

was generally considered to be split between

the North and the South. Even today some

150-years later it has white supremacy and

segregationist social and political leanings.

Currently its two Senators are conservative

Republicans who predominantly and unfairly

represent the ideology of their party and the

White Ruling Class majority.

As I see it, the State motto “Show Me” should

imply a yearning for the truth (prove it), and for

Christ’s sake, show me some human decency

and honesty, attributes, our two notorious US

Senators, Blunt and Hawley, seem to lack in spades.

Perhaps in my old age and waning days, truth and

honesty from our elected officials is expecting too

much.

                                        -30-

Chris Hanch 12-31-2020

Countdown of Days

 

Each day counts now,

no longer up to something new,

but down the count as my days

grow old and few.

I no longer pray to keep the

even keel I was on yesterday.

The countdown is on. I can

no longer turn the hourglass

around and start my hours

over again.

Be positive. Some will

claim, there are years yet

ahead of me. I know

what I know positively.

As the matter goes, that’s

what I have to say.

The countdown is on.

No day is ever the same.

I face the darkness of

dead reckoning ahead.

Time is the tide slipping

away.

Deep Waters of Eternity,

take me with you gently

into the night, I pray.

          -30-

Chris Hanch 12-30-2020

As Life Goes On

Unwrap the packages to get at

what you want. Toss the junk mail

into the trash.

Pieces of paper wadded up and

thrown away. Old receipts cleared

from the table.

Emptied cans, cartons and bottles

discarded. Add mayonnaise and

milk to the grocery list.

Squeeze the last from the tooth-

paste tube. Used paper towels and

tissues. Odds and ends from who

knows where. Several times each day,

all of us need to be responsible for the

disposal of our own waste.

The Brits and Aussies call it rubbish.

Funny name but in the good old US

of A, trash all the same.

The perpetual making of trash by

everyone each day, as life goes on

without saying, never ends.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 12-29-2020

 

Trouble, My Friends, Right Here in Kansas City

 

Had a problem with Gas Company billing.

Didn’t receive my bill for November.

Kept checking my e-mail. It showed no

amount due.

Had a problem with an online order I made

several days ago. Never received a confir-

mation even though they had withdrawn

the money from my bank account.

A light keeps blinking on my computer,

and I haven’t a clue as to what it portends,

but I expect trouble is looming.

I’m going on 74-years old and have some

physical disabilities. I sure don’t need all this

mental anguish adding to the issues I already

have.

I made several calls, and sent out e-mails to

address my mounting difficulties. The Gas

Company located the problem with my account

and promised to correct it. (Ha! That remains to

be seen.)

I received an e-mail back from the company

about my order assuring me that it had been

received and would be shipped shortly. I

requested that it be sent FedEx instead of the

US Postal Service due to their unreliable and

incompetent service.

All of this added to my intense anxiety of yester-

day when my Kansas City Chiefs played a back

and forth lousy game with the Atlanta Falcons.

Fortunately, due to a missed field goal by the

Falcons in the closing seconds of the game, the

Chiefs lucked out and won 17 to 14. I chain

smoked cigarettes and wound up with frayed

nerves anyway.

I suppose I should be grateful that I haven’t lost

a job or contracted the Corona virus yet. I should

be jumping for joy that our current President was

voted out of office and only has 20-some days

before a new administration takes the reigns.

I sometime wish I was in my twenties again when

I’d blow it all off, and could give a good shit

about anything. But in my old age and waning

days, I need a big glass of prune juice every

morning to take care of that.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 12-28-2020

Mindful Thoughts

 

Most of the time my mind is on

autopilot. I see something, hear

something, and I begin to think

about that, or it leads to something

else.

Once in a while a name from the

past will pop up and I’ll think about

a time years ago. And then, you know

one thing leads to another.

This, of course, happens to me when

I have no other activity to occupy

my mind. When I’m reading or watching

TV, I focus on that which is present in

front of me. I guess this is the way a

brain is supposed to work.

When I take the time to write, I need

for the topic to pop into my head.

The though may arrive between

sips of morning coffee or melodically

between the notes of a Mozart

Symphony.

Many thoughts misfire and I dismiss

them immediately. It’s the ones

I grapple with which intrigue me.

This morning, I awoke in the middle

of a dream where people I knew were

dogs. Places I went were not places

I had ever been. I rode an electric

cart and stopped at a gas station to

refuel.

I realized that that wouldn’t work.

I was going to be late for my job

and it started to pour rain.

I went into the store for a pack of

cigarettes and the woman attendant

gave me my brand. The pack was

open, so she gave it to me no charge.

She told me that Jesus taught her

to be kind. And If Jesus didn’t mind

my smoking than neither did I.

I went back out to my electric cart

and saw that there was 30% charge

left on the battery which was not

enough to get to my job and back.

So, I decided take the day off. I

gathered up the dogs and drove

home in the rain. I looked for my

room 203, but was on the wrong

floor.

When I awoke and came to my

senses, I realized that instead of

this dream I probably should have

written about my childhood friend,

Dick Arnoldy whose name came to

me on the crapper spontaneously.

Call me crazy, but it would have

made much more sense for both

you and me.

              -30-

Chris Hanch 12-27-2020

The Day After Christmas

 

The day after Christmas this year, 2020.

No tree for me to take down, no lights

or holly around. Not a sprig of mistletoe,

no one underneath to kiss.

I believe in goodwill, gifting, and praise

every day of the year, and for everyone

a cup of good cheer—Black coffee instead

of spiked eggnog for me.

A measure of daily dust on the furniture

and randomly placed clutter stacked in

place of a tree.

I pat the dog good night, retire and turn

out the light. Joy to the World all, and to

all a good night!

As for the New Year, 2021, will there be

meaningful, needed resolutions? For Christ’s

and everyone elses’ sake should we survive

another year, there damned well better be.

                   -30-

Chris Hanch 12-26-2020

Who's Who?

 

In my lifetime as an artist

I have had many folks tell me

That due to the wide variety of

styles applied to my work,

that I must have many artists

living within me.

That piece favors Picasso’s

cubism style. This one leans

toward Monet’s Impressionistic

ways. Calder-like that work

appears to be. Realism, cari-

cature, cartoon, abstract,

such a variety from one artist

is rarely seen.

How many times those remarks

have been passed along to me.

I got to looking back at some

of the work I have done, and

by golly, what was said about

a dozens of different artists

living within me appeared to

be true.

Could be I possess a schizo-

phrenic artistic personality?

In a good sort of way, I would

hope. But indeed, there is a

wide variety of styles and

techniques applied to my work.

And that possibility seems to

have increased my diversity greatly.

Guess I should be grateful—at least

one of me in there must know what

in hell I’m doing. And as far as pre-

ference goes, well I suppose that is

up to the multifaceted viewer such

as any one of you to choose.

                -30-

Chris Hanch 12-24-2020

Waxing Philosophical Again

 

In a little over one week,

2021. I won’t bore you

with the old adage, my

how time flies. Well there,

I said it anyway.

After all these years

(damn near 74 in April),

what else can I say?

You’d think I’d run out

of words explaining

by now.

Goodbye 2020, Fair well,

no better yet, burn in hell!

One of the worse years

I have seen to date.

And to think, 1947 led me

to all this, and perhaps 2021

should I survive the last week

of 2020. Who gives a shit,

anyway?

Wonder what the odds are

making it one more day?

50-50, I’d say. Those were

the odds all along, anyway.

There I go again, waxing

philosophical, and wasting

more of my time and words

in the process.

             -30-

Chris Hanch 12-23-2020

Treasure Trove

 

Thinking about my life.

That’s what old people do.

Lots of time, and yet so

little left.

Lots of reflection too,

about life and its meaning.

For me, the time for major

changes has passed,

never to retrieve except

in old and aging memories.

When I was a young man

I had the good fortune of

travel across the country

and abroad.

And all the experiences—

seeing, doing, feeling,

good times and bad,

joyous times and sad,

gains and losses, an

amalgam of opportunity

presented me, and roll

of the dice chances

taken randomly.

And for nearly 74-years of

wandering through the

seasons of life, I have survived

and thrived. Now disabled,

here in my golden years

with fond memories, I reside.

And still out there beyond

my reach and within, there

remain undiscovered worlds

with a treasure trove of beauty

and goodness yet to see.

         -30-

Chris Hanch 12-22-2020

An Alternate Reality

 

Suddenly, and unprompted by reality

this strange thought swept over me—

Should I sit perfectly silent and still,

not moving a muscle, and breathing

shallow and slowly, nothing of this

Earth or indeed all creation could

affect me, neither anguish nor pain,

not freight, not worry nor strife, not

even the slightest tickle of delight.

Suspended animation, I suppose

one could say, a zen like state awash

over my sensibilities. Oh, glory be,

the numbness of my of being.

Just for a brief moment mind you,

knowing the extinguishing of all

properties and plausibilites—

Nothingness, not even the light of

a Hereafter to attract me. Worrisome

indeed, the emotion which brought

me back to feeling the pain of my own

personal and blessed reality.

Sure, I can bitch and complain all I

want. I am entitled as you are as well.

That comes part and parcel with the

whole damned living humanity thing.

I am grateful and cursed once again.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 12-20-2020

As I See It

 

Like many others, I have gone through

some hard and trying times in my life.

I have been in sour relationships, have

moved from place to place, survived

many a drunken night.

And the jobs, well most of them were

a waste of time which payed barely

enough on which to survive.

I managed to make it through, though,

moving on from one thing to another,

writing and creating artworks along the

way.

In order to survive emotionally one

needs something of substance and

consistency in order to maintain a

relative sense of sanity.

With that in mind, I never entertained

the thought of giving up completely. I

would simply move on to something

else, and accept my situation for what

it was— a stopgap for homelessness

and abject poverty, another experience

to inspire me creatively.

This whole lifelong affair of mine was

to avoid stagnation and complacency.

One will do some seemingly off-the-wall,

contrary things to avoid that.

Another thing I learned along the way,

very few women are willing to put up

with that nebulous and ofttimes helter

skelter attitude.

Personally, I have found that given my

advancing age, a dog is best suited

to satisfy my need for companionship.

And Social Security and sublime obscurity

suite me just fine.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 12-19-2020

The Measure of Time

 

We keep track of time before and after.

With time we wait, we stand in line.

In our lives, good and bad arrive and

leave in time.

Even light obeys it’s limits to shine,

186,000 miles per second. There is all

the time you need, never enough. Time

slips past us in our dreams, makes or

breaks us, lights the way it seems.

We are swept away in the rapids of time

as tomorrow cannot come soon enough

and yesterday fades away. Time and tide

wait for no man, they say.

And then it comes to pass, all too quickly,

one last step. There is no measure of time

left for that. It took 13.8-billion years in the

making to get us to this place. How much

more time is left for us to waste? Whatever

stands the test of time, only the Everlasting

shall proclaim.

                     -30-

Chris Hanch 12-18-2020