Where History Failed

Science overwhelms truth
and the truth is but dust on
an ancient decrepit cracked tablet that 
forbears the presage of destiny that's become
mere quackery and fodder for underscored 
and illiterate kooks who've found the urgency
to bleed and purge their guilty conscience to 
compensate their misdeeds to humankind, we
no longer need hope from preachers, we need 
courage from world leaders and the ultra-rich
who despise the rest of the world; for hunger,
plague and death only await the misfortunate,
and their hell is already served here on earth. 

- John Hardesty 

Old Age

The creeping and sedulous seize 
of Jeunesse, the forlorn of wile and
piddled knavery has culminated 
an end, the squinting strait of
love and romance have succumbed 
to reticent reveille, the frost of yesteryear 
has frozen the reverent ground of trust, 
there's no lightly treading over the ashen 
cinders of unkempt dreams, the disassembly
of memory and misplaced aspirations that have 
moored away any breadth of reconciliation 
between recourse and salvage; now, old age
has censured any amends, recounting the 
missteps and idled solitary have lodged and 
immersed any and all disillusion of purpose, 
the gifting disheartenment of clutching lost
ambitions only remind you of the 
disembodiment between mortal frailty and 
and divine failure. 

- John Hardesty 

Globe Of Fools

There’s no set gauge or barometer
for ignorance, it is seldom
acquired yet,
governed by many.
Where logic is impassible and
opaque, let prudence
bridge the misunderstanding.

- John Hardesty

Missing Mysteries

The world still turns
between the lost epochs, and betwixt the missing links,
lost codes and every lost elliptic stone-tablet lies
the frontier of speculation for man's
viewing pleasure; every riddle, puzzle,
and fragmented proverb has become
immersed in fictitious blunder, every apocryphal
and arcane writ has been expounded in dubious 
contempt of man's existence, for there's no contract
for truth, only bespawls conjecture and abject hypothesis,
empty presumptions that have multiplied into confounded 
muddle over the decadence of antiquity; man has become 
an inventor of many things, but his highest scienter and 
utmost insolence cometh when he started to believe in 
fairytales over science, and how humbled and feebled 
he's become instilling his insoluble propaganda, for the 
secret of life is to keep the lie alive. 


-  John Hardesty 

Zeitgeist(Haiku)

                                                   The visage mirrored-
                                                   held breath the golden era-
                                                   succumbs memory.

                                                       - John Hardesty 

The Beautiful Guest

She came through the doorway
at the dawning of our lives,
she brought lavish gifts, 
unfettered love, and exorbitant
sunshine, we grew together as
an entangled vine, smothering 
each other with cuddled frivol and 
fuddled covetise, we withdrew from 
conventional passion and restrained
ourselves from the posturing of
any dotage in public view, yet
when the lights went out on
Sunset Drive the messianic moon
lit up every fervid desire, complete
teratism, mornings often came too soon,
and Springtime soon dropped her innocence,
and the disenchantment of Fall untrussed 
her gown whilst Winter unencumbered, lowered her
cold howl; the rolling wave turned quietly into
one silent lullaby, the humstrum of change
flung her rustling dominium, and the fever
was quelled, and the tempest
conquered another rook. 

- John Hardesty  

The Wait

The clock holds the measure of thought
the pendulum sways in doubt,
religion eviscerates its romantic hyperbole,
promising everlasting life to mortal ants whom 
revolutionize and immortalize the great myth
with abhorrent and deviant propaganda;
you will transform to the High Church edicts and 
precepts or face overthrowing and ostracization, you  
will bow to this golden and pagan calf, you will learn 
fear and respect, you will never disobey the high
commands of the church, you must bend, you must
break, and you must comply or become the anti-Christ,
the unforgiving one who will die in an internal flame of 
fire while being unconsciously dead as a doorknob; pure
rubbish, deadpan trumpery, and abortive mullock to believe
that an eternal wing will fly you to another place beyond
your immortal grave, this is an abominable doctrine of 
repressive dogma to keep the elite in power and the weak
in proverbial check, and while you sit in your wasteful pew
bowing to their contriving and devised god, just remember
you're still paying them to be in chains and the only god they
bow to is the almighty dollar and puissant greed. 

-  John Hardesty  

Does A Supreme God Exist?

Where is God?
A child died from starvation and buried
next to his brother who perished by the
same conclusion,
and I ask,
"Where is God?"
A President chromed in adultery, bigotry,
racism, and corruption sits in the High Throne,
and I ask,
"Where is God?" 
When a classroom of innocent children are gunned 
down at their desks learning to survive in an
unfit governing world,
and I ask,
"Where is God?"
When some killer walks scot-free from justice, now
invades the night with vengeance,
and I ask,
"Where is God?" 
When elite men own over half the wealth
in the world and now own every corrupted judge 
and crooked politician, 
and I ask,
"Where is God?"
When deviant preachers prey on children in the 
name of our Father in Heaven,
and I ask,
"Where is God?"
When will this forgiving Savoir 
come and save us?
Never, because He does not exist, 
only a lost fairytale, that escaped
the campfires of lost hope
and forgotten dreams.

- John Hardesty 

The Scheme

The artless scam
was no certain devised demand
but one question was at hand;
Who'll be in charge of this plan?
Would it be Johnny the Hatchet Man?
Or the safecracker Marianne? 
Surely not Dave the Caveman?
No way Father Paul the Clergyman?
Would it be George the Garbage Man? 
Or lakeside Peter the Fisherman?
Will it be Tiny the Midget Man? 
Never the sneaky Su the Peking Man?
Please don't tell me it's Harvey the Hackman? 
Or one-arm Stan the Man? 
Possibly Roxanne from Bhutan?
Or deadpan Chapman? 
Forgot Al-Rob-ya Blind the Muslim for Iran? 
Or Saul the strawman from Tuscan? 
Or Afghan Azyan in his caftan? 
No way one-eye Botan the Jap Man? 
Or Pecan Patty in the black sedan?
No way Suzanne from Alabam? 
Whoever gets the job for Henry the Helmsman, 
They'll be exposed by the local news anchorman,
And transported to jail by the city policemen. 

The Emptiness and Voids

The passing of one's birthday
and the forfeit of another year, holding
on with every rollicking memory that passes 
through the narrowing and gathering reprise,
and the endless sequence of fallen aspirations
besiege every thought that fracture one's pride,
misery accompanied by her twin despair probe
every repressed reprieve, this stranger intrudes 
upon the lonesome night and awakens every 
memorial death like some notary exhumer 
who wrought the dead to life only to welcome the
relived anguish of etherized anfractuous grief, 
for, in the end, there's no rebirth from an emaciated 
and embowered grave; for eternity, only exists through 
some gilded book on a lonely shelf, an open portrait hung
upon some stark folding wall, and with your family and
friends' minds that soon will expire too. 

- John Hardesty 

Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 15)

     I grabbed my cash and headed to the hotel room still elated from the adrenaline rushing through my veins, no doubt this was the greatest Herculean task I've ever done thus far in my life. I showered and caught up with the boys before they headed back home, and I was drained but smiling like Cool Hand Luke. 
     The weekend went by so quickly, it doesn't take long to spend less than two days since we headed back on Sunday night, but it was always great to see mom, dad, and my sisters and brothers. I was tanned like a bronze god, and muscles were popping out all over my body, I worked hard and the aesthetics were reflected in every mirror, my sisters took so many pictures of me, I guess they were proud of me, but I was shy and was never indulgent in vanity, that was for movie stars. 
     The following Monday came and we all ate at the Dairy Queen, and there was Bobby who I'd figure would be a bit sore from losing the bet but was cordial and even bought my breakfast that morning.
     "Man, that was so awesome to watch you tightrope that cable like Spiderman," Bobby said admiring me and the ridiculous, insane, and reckless feat.
     "Thanks, Bobby I truly appreciate it, but you know I thought I'd made a bad bet the first step when I almost fell to my death and realized this wasn't a dream or a game," I said with a gratifying smile. 
     Those local boys bought my breakfast every day after that, and I guess I was their hero that summer and hope to think they told their grandkids about me because that bridge(Milton-Madison) no longer sits on the great Ohio River and only the ghost of Bill Muncey rumbling through the waters below and a passing memory of that summer now only resides. 

                                                                The End 

                                                     
                                                                     15
     

Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 14)

     I was exhausted as I reached the halfway point of my incredible journey, and I really had the time to examine the artwork of this ironwork bridge, it was an old bridge that was constructed in 1928 and completed in 1929, that alone was an amazing feat, and the cost of $1,365,101.84. They just don't make them like this anymore, it was something to behold and I was holding on to dear life, as thoughts migrated from one memory to another while keeping my grip with each shifting hand movement and my feet never left the cable, I always scooted them on the bottom cable so they would never lose my footing but this was time-consuming and depleting my strength with each inching stride.  
     I looked up again at the local boys, and their laughs turned into seriousness after they saw I refused to give up like most sane idiots would, but it was never about the bet or money, it was about an accomplishment, but I need not worry about self-gratification yet, I still had over 2,000 feet to inch by at a snail's pace while my feet were aching and my calf muscles were burning like a hot cauldron. I thought one time what would my dad think of me doing this because he once was a daredevil too, on his bachelor night he got drunk with his brothers and climbed down a four-story hotel room and swam across the Ohio River in the dead of night at midnight. So, I get this from him, he might be proud of me or not, who knows? 
     The breeze felt soothing on my face giving me a much-needed cooldown and maybe it was God letting me know that I'm going to be okay. I only had about another 1,000 feet, and I was at the most dangerous part, no river below just concrete and asphalt, but I knew it was over because I got my second wind and started to sing Bob Segar's Sunspot Baby that suffocated the airwaves recently. 
     I reached the end and I was elated not because I won the bet but I proved that I was not afraid to do something so incredibly stupid, this alone made me proud to be who I am, I climbed up that last trestle like a squirrel and jumped up upon the deck of the bridge and smiled at the Bobby and the locals as he handed over my money without incident.
     "That was the most incredible thing I've ever witness," Bobby said without reproach of bad sportsmanship whatsoever. 
     "Ah shucks, it wasn't nothing," as I turned back and saw what I just accomplished, realizing not too many people would've ever even decided to chance it. 

                                                                    14 

Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 13)

     I reached up to grab the cable and right off the bat I almost fell as I caught myself and pulled myself up to the cable which was like a tightly strung bowstring, and I thought what am I doing, surely these local boys knew this is an impossible feat, and they must have seen a million attempts here in their own town, but I can't quit, I have my pride to keep, and that means more to me than a plunge to my death. 

     I managed to make twenty feet between me and the start and I thought there are no rules for a rest as long as I don't move away from the cables. I looked up and saw the locals gawking down at me and yelling at me, "you'll never make it, it isn't worth killing yourself!" I trudged on without any retort toward the maddening crowd assembled. 

     I made one critical error, I wore no leather gloves, and my hands were being gripped and squeezed like I was shaking hands each time with a pair of vise-grips, this hurt like Hell, and I looked up and slowly inched my way to the first landing beam, but the sun was setting right in my eyes, I was up against every odds imaginable, but I kept my composure and slowly inched on, once I messed up and glanced at the river below and I was immediately in a  full set of continuous vertigo where the cable is moving faster than the water below, again I almost lost my grip due to the dizziness this carelessness produced. I was losing sunlight but at least the heat was subsiding substantially, and sweat was pouring out of my body like a blown radiator in the middle of the desert and each grip before the other I had to swipe my shorts to dry the sweat  from each palm, this wasn't what I signed up for and I started to say a prayer, but God doesn't come to the aid of fools.   

     I made progress, and almost knew now I could make it until my legs started bowing and swaying and becoming like a folding tent, my knees were shaking so bad I had to rest about ten minutes and time was becoming an issue and I was just about halfway there too, and wondered too if I had the strength to even pull myself back to safety if I decided to quit. 

     I made another error and that was not bringing a water bottle, my beat-up body was so badly dehydrated I had salt coming out of my skin and shirt but this aided me because my skin was now dry as a bone and I didn't have to worry about losing my grip.

                                                                 13   

Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 12)

     The day moved so slow and the sun had to be dragging its solar heat above 90 degrees, sweat was pouring out of me, each minute I looked below at those cables and weighing in my options how I was going to walk this cable of death, wondering if I had the endurance after a hot day in this blistering sun, in fact, it can really drain a man's power. I looked at my watch and it was barely noon and I'm already worn out thinking why didn't I tell Bobby I'll do it tomorrow on a Saturday, but then again I'd be stuck up here all weekend by myself because Stingray and the boys always head home for the weekend. 
     I had to carry all the helium bottles around that day too, unfortunate for me, I was very tired, and thought maybe I'll just forfeit a hundred bucks to this kid but I'm Little Joe, hell no I won't ever surrender, I will do this, but I thought do I have the strength to teeter all away across this distance of almost a mile, the widest section of Ohio River, and there was a reason the Madison Regatta was stationed here-it's a wide and one of the longest bridges on the Ohio River. 
     Finally, the work day ended, I was exhausted, beat down, and weak, I sat down for almost an hour after work in the shade gathering my game plan, and reviving what strength I had left, and I looked up and here comes Bobby with his friend waving a hundred dollar bill with the biggest smirk on his face, he was laughing because he thought I'd chicken out because the day was a rough day, hot, sweaty, and laborious. 
     "Here's my hundred!" Bobby shouted to all heavens.
     "Hey, here's mine," as I handed my hundred to his friend for whom I've never met.
     We drove to the Milton side of the bridge and I looked one last time below and thought this is it, the moment of triumph. Bobby was so sure I'd back out of this or quit half-way through, or fall to my death. His smug face wrote his intentions and emotions like time on the face of Madison's courthouse clock. 
     Bobby parked the car under the bridge and we walked up to the bridge, my knees were shaking like a pair of cricket's legs. We were on the construction side of the bridge and the night crew was gone that night because they never worked on Friday night. I then stretched my arms and legs one last time and slid down the hot trestle. 
     "Just hand over my money when I'm done," I said meaning real business. 

                                                                      12 

Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 11)

     I slept in fear thinking all night long this could be my last night on this earth and wondered if I could possibly back out of this bet but knew I'd be the laughing stock and called a coward so I'm going to do this tomorrow regardless, I'm not a coward or a welcher. I got up half asleep and took a shower, the others were still soundly asleep. I turned on the television and the noise got the others up and moving, they hustled and bustled around and we all loaded up in the van and headed to the diner over in Milton and walked in for breakfast and there was ole Bobby, he was smiling from ear to ear, and I nodded his way and ordered my usual biscuits and gravy, and sat beside him. 
     "Well, you want to pay me now or wait until you die from the fall?" Bobby said laughing. 
     "Look we get paid today and after I get paid, we'll put the cash up with your friend, if I fall the cash is yours," I said shutting him up without any more fanfare. 
     I ate my breakfast in complete silence and knew today I would take it easy, no heavy lifting to drain my strength, my focus was doing this incredible feat that I knew I could finish without falling to my death as I watched the dust from the air escalate toward the Venetian blinds like some rapture of soulless particles. 
     "Hey, Little Joe, what's this deal I hear you gonna walk the tightrope across this bridge? Seegar inquired.
     "Oh, it's nothing, I'm taking a day's pay from some local here after work," I countered back. 
     "Little Joe you be careful this bridge will take your life, watch your step," Seegar said in a comforting and worrying way. 
     "Seegar, do me a favor, don't tell Stingray," I responded that needed his self-assurance, confidence, and promise that he'll never utter a word to Stingray. 
     "I swear I won't but are you really going to do this?" 
     "I'm at a point of no return Seegar," I responded in a loud way. 
     "Good Luck Little Joe," Seegar said again with warmth and consideration.

                                                                  11