Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

A Noiseless, Patient Philanthropist

It was in the middle of my insomnia
what should have been a dream
was a nightmare wide awake
in tatters and seams it bespake
con-man ramblings in the night

Old Ramona wails
her hollow halleluah
life happens in the next room
but the walls are thin
and I, mortal as a rose
bang my head
I should have been
a philanthropist by now

the corpses do their little dance
rattling in my larynx
chronic as a hacksaw
tiny teeth tearing at steel
like time's cruel instrument

I should have given it away
when I had it
but always thought there would
be a chance to be a philanthropist
later when times were fatter
and my budget was set for charity

it's hard to blame a well-meaning fool
no matter how cool my rejoinder
my heart is blue as a flame
burning for you and all humanity
a soft gospel refrain
sing, Ramona, sing
my tin mendicant bowl
turned to gold
so I had to give it away

Lightning Rod wrote: I should have given it away
when I had it
but always thought there would
be a chance to be a philanthropist
later when times were fatter
and my budget was set for charity

This has me stopped and wordless. I can't tell you how much this, or exactly how these words, hit me. Clean. Refreshing. Lamentable. And then it moves here:

Lightning Rod wrote: my tin mendicant bowl
turned to gold
so I had to give it away

...and I touch the change and drop it in a sidewalk performer's hat.

This is a hymn. This is a prayer.

The whole subject of charity has long beguiled me. It requires grace in order to work as surely as a wheel needs an axle. Both recipient and benefactor must have their specific types of grace. Charity should go unnoticed not because it is a shame but because it is ubiquitous as the air and as holy.

What made me write this poem was the pile of news items today about philanthropy. The Facebook donation by The Zuck, The Clinton organization meeting and talk of Gates and Buffet and their social club giving away half their dough. I suppose all of this garish public charity is necessary in our media age and I'm glad to see it but still it borders on the profane.

“No servant serves two masters well”
upon my conscience fell
when I was serving better me
than love’s philanthropy.

But I’d have given, had I more,
had I been not so poor.
I’d thought the time would come to me
to budget charity.

But then I saw we’re beggars all
who wait for crumbs to fall,
so that I shared – but crumbs, not gold –
by grace as I’d been told.

I've had to give myself away;
in this more riches lay:
I’ve always had enough to live
when I’d my self to give.

beautiful, my friend

Loved this LR. I always told my kids to never expect anyone to be more charitable than you are. This is beautiful