Old Dogs

Young dogs strain at the leash
old ones just keep up,
slow and wise they remember
what it was to be a pup.

The romping loud excitement
is now a gentle look,
at the pleasures of a lifetime
and the effort that they took.

Content to walk much slower
they get there just the same,
when daily meals are offered
or someone calls their name.

How long it takes to learn this
is merely one's whole life,
imparting serene acceptance
of the goodness and the strife.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Patina of Success

Skin deep beauty is deception
being only looks and practiced ease,
depth of character takes some doing
why learn when you can deceive?

Superficial is the by word
the opposite of worth,
a Kardashian illusion
just an accident of birth.

Character is just a role to play
nothing more substantial,
the only goals aspired to
have become financial.

Today's mechanism for success
is an artificial device,
going to leave them stranded
on dangerously thin ice.

You will wish for something
based on substantial work,
when you face the world
knowing only how to twerk.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Always Today

Tomorrow never really gets here
staying just out of reach,
unlike yesterday gone by
with what it had to teach.

Now there's a lesson we can learn:
looking back at what was taught,
unlike the elusive future
with wisdom to still be bought.

Some will eagerly anticipate
what yet remains to learn,
while we with more experience
look back sometimes to yearn.

Reading happiness into history
can be romantically untrue,
but preferable to what yet
remains to be lived through.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Information Overdose

Close your eyes cover your ears
pull the blankets over your head,
the media bombardment of bad news
is a terrible thing to dread.

Aching joints and toothaches,
the loss of youth and hair,
on inescapable commercials
can be too much to bear.

My feet were hurting when I heard
my investments had been lost,
radio, TV and internet
gleefully added up the cost.

Sunshine is a weather report
the news must all be bad,
politicians duly elected
have taken all we had.

Hometown team is a loser
the river is a toxic dump,
plane crashes and a car wreck
have my spirits in a slump.

People's behavior is terrible
and we hear about it all,
the devil is running the planet
where his followers are ten feet tall.

All of it sets me to wondering
how much I can take of this?
And remembering the quaint old adage;
ignorance is bliss.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Sunday Morning

We find the Christians in their churches
and the sinners in guilty sleep,
both hoping there is no judgment
making vows they cannot keep.

The promises of redemption
cause me to exalt,
as the fleshy burden of living
makes me a sinner by default.

Gospel wails from the radio
road traffic remains light,
the day that all the faithful
gather for the good fight.

But the Sabbath is just another day
to the economy as a whole,
our shopping and amusements
will take a spiritual toll.

The 4th commandment being scrapped
by merchant hedonists,
a seventh day of business
they just could not resist.

Perhaps the judgment will be on Sunday
when their hand is in the till,
Monday the pearly gates are locked
and they get stuck with the bill.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Finance Raptor

This predatory carnivore
with talons long and sharp,
preys upon the workingman’s
stout financial heart.

Fattening on our labors
swooping for its bite,
roosting in bank and courthouse
owning every legal right.

Piercing with its penalties,
interest and income tax,
gorged with congressional power
that’s continuing to wax.

Plumed as a noble eagle
it does no work at all,
taking what it can’t deserve
from an office down the hall.

Puffed with pride for symbolizing
our great American culture,
grown fat and smug and lazy
it’s no better than a vulture.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Stay Out of the Gift Shop

Dopamine junkies bore me
with values just ankle deep,
give me a nugget of interest
something that I could keep.

Let's get below the surface
of all the **** that floats,
stick with higher standards
and cast some quality votes.

Help settle the nation's problems
don't fixate on TV,
pick a subject of substance
to see what you can see.

Dumbing down the language
substitutes for learning it well,
the changes now going forward
are leading us straight to hell.

Curmudgeon, fogey, conservative
call me a stick in the mud,
but the direction we are going
boils this old man's blood.

But I take great pleasure knowing
when these kids are all my age,
they too will chafe at changes
and futility will yet rage.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Profile$ in Cowardice

If JFK were alive today
he'd hang hi$ head in $hame.
Gag and choke over how they vote
in the congre$$ional $hell game.

The courage of one’$ conviction$
certainly ha$ its price,
$old to the highest bidder
never thinking twice.

Campaign contribution$
are the modern holy grail,
in pur$uit of dollar$
their ethic$ alway$ fail.

In public they po$e and po$ture
putting on noble air$,
but under the poli$hed table$
take the money of billionaire$.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Arbiter of Insanity

Eyes alight with maniacal gleam
believing only his waking dream.

High priest of what is false and dead
chasing what his mind has bred.

Caring nothing for nature’s law
fearing neither fang nor claw.

Wielding plow and ax to kill
damming stream and leveling hill.

Sowed for profit, not a crop,
only famine can make him stop.

Shave your beard idle your hands
turn your back on the fertile lands.

Build a house and call it home
with all the big wide world to roam.

Hide from rain and the breeze
to soon forget the feel of these.

Electric power has taken the place
of honest sweat running down your face.

Respecting nothing that doesn’t please
kicked back lazy in your ease.

Fouling waters and the air
spoiling everything God made fair.

It’s suicidal can’t you see?
No future left for posterity.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Looking Up Seeing Down

I would like to write about
things as I wish they were,
but my hopeless dreams of goodness
I sadly now inter.

Prayers and aspirations
hopes and dreams galore,
slip through my shaking fingers
to smash down on the floor.

People behaving badly
are all that's in the news,
doing things so terrible
all humanity has to lose.

Confounding earthly wisdom
of what is good and right,
some madness of their spirits
compel them now to fight.

Angry and short sighted
after all that we have learned,
wisdom and compassion
maniacally have been spurned.

But the failure of our efforts
to rescue hopes so bold,
should come as no surprise
having sadly been foretold.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Heights of Passion

The heights of passion are lofty places
that take away your breath,
but I have to remember carefully
its been so long since I left.

Going hell bent through my youth
with single minded purpose,
careening from one love to another
a twenty year hectic circus.

I have long since reaped those wild oats
and cherish the memories,
but only the young can stand the pace
because it clogs your arteries.

My passion was food along with the girls
and they both stay with us awhile,
shorter relationships and longer belts
tragically is now my style.

I hoist a glass to the memories
of strength and speed in youth,
because I'm still twenty deep inside
that's the honest truth.

But the body now knows better
and tells the mind to chill,
'cause most of the things it wants to do
would quickly and cruelly kill.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Ideal

In my imagination
I do things very well,
transcending limitations
oh the tales I could tell.

Everything goes down just right
mistakes are never made,
the perfect way of handling things
is my stock and trade.

My head's up in the clouds
my eye will catch a star,
pieces falling into place
and I'll be going far.

It's rest and recreation
for my ego bruised and sore,
a place to take a load off
I go there more and more.


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved

Landlubber

I had a boat that wouldn’t float
being full of water and all,
but the rocks I hit have been named after me
they’re called; “No Brains Atoll!”

So the chances of me having a life at sea
run from none to slim,
but I sure am glad my dear old Dad
insisted I learn to swim!


by Robert Quinn
all rights reserved