Easter Rising

Much more

than

potted lilies,

or

chocolate

rabbits

in a box,

a

Happy Easter

is

rising early,

and

making love 
in

just our

socks.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

Orangenous Zone 

Naughty List: Way Better Than a Bucket List!

Our short years

together

have brought so

many firsts,

helping one another

in quenching

life-long thirsts:

for that special

someone to share

the little things,

a best friend,

a red hot lover,

exchanging

wedding rings.

The hand of fate,

tho’ late for us,

has been more

than kind.

If we only had

the power

to make the

clock rewind.

Were we a little

younger,

oh the times we

might’ve had!

That we’re a tad

bit older,

we must hasten

being bad.

I say we make a 

naughty list

of stuff we’d

like to do,

then attack it with

a vengeance,

even if we 

check off just

a few.

~gj duerrschmidt

Missed Call (of the Church Bell), A Poem

Wisps of smoke

rise skyward,

as the last of

burning embers

glow.

Naked limbs

sway gently,

shaking off the

last of winter’s

snow. 

A church bell

rings far off

in the distance,

calling me to

go.

Come…

…Come…

……Come…

it beckons;

and once again

the answer’s

no.

~gj duerrschmidt

The Rain in Spain: An Other-Than-Heterosexual Love Story

At nineteen, during the Vietnam War

I was an airman serving in sunny Spain.

I went to bars with my fellow airmen,

pissing away money like it were rain.

They were on a libido-driven mission

to get themselves some Spanish snatch.

I wasn’t able to embrace their fervor,

waiting instead on some better catch.

I was sick and tired of all the drinking;

somehow there had to be a better way.

I needed to be spending my free time,

investing in more sober ways to play.

When Friday came, I feigned sickness;

the guys went without me for a change.

I walked across base to the bookstore,

something happened, a little strange.

I was invited by a preacher to a social

at his home in a small pueblo off base;

said he’s hosting a few college kids

on summer mission while at his place.

When I arrived, all sat in a big circle,

opening a space and pulling up a chair.

They shared personal stories of Jesus,

I tho’t, “Christ, what am I doing there?”

That’s the first time I met him (not Jesus),

his hungry eyes followed my every move;

the eldest son of the missionary preacher,

flirting in ways dad would never approve.

I was asked to help with the youth group;

No way in hell would this guy say no.

All my buddies joked I’d gotten religion;

the truth: a hot crush I couldn’t let go.

He desired much more than a friendship;

struggling with lust and love for the lord.

How sweet the season of secret liaison;

how I miss being so intensely adored.

At nineteen, during the Vietnam War

I was an airman serving in sunny Spain.

I fell in love with the son of a preacher;

when it ended the tears fell like rain.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer:

Orangenous Zone 

Dawn of the Orange People: A Poem for Equal Rights and Marriage Equality

Under the cloak of darkness

they journey out of hiding

to a secret place that

welcomes them.

Tonight they gather in the

greatest of numbers,

abandoning caution,

defying warnings of an

immense release of energy

and coming of color.

The joyful reunion unleashes

their deepest emotions,

hidden for so long out of

fear of persecution.

Suppressed passion rises

quickly and intensely,

until the desert air quietly,

yet violently erupts into

bright, surging bursts

of orange.

The pulsating glow

penetrates the night sky,

lighting mountains, valleys,

and the great sea.

This day the world awakens

long before sunrise to

a new kind of dawn,

of a people wanting only to

love freely and openly in

the brightest light of day.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer:

Orangenous Zone

Bucket List

They may only go

no further than the

inside of my head,

but I’ve a list

of many

accomplishments

I’d like to realize

before I’m dead.

Some only require

gut determination

and energy.

Others will take

much funding and

foreign travel to

experience places

I’d like to see.

I’ll focus first on

simple things like

making pottery.

Most on the list

will remain nice

wishful thoughts,

unless somehow I

win the lottery!

~gj duerrschmidt

Church: When's the Last Time You Were There?

So, I haven’t been there in a while;

I felt no need to attend any more.

It did little for me when I did go;

getting there was such a chore.

Though I miss its vaulted ceilings,

benches made from hardest wood;

stained glass windowed artwork,

above where pious statues stood;

Its fine linen-draped marble altars,

chalices with accessories of gold;

tall candles of purest bee’s wax,

waiting God's message to be told;

Sinners and saints under one roof,

congregating to worship the Lord;

singing with the passing of baskets,

giving to Him all they can afford.

I once stood, knelt, and also prayed,

trying my best to embrace the game.

But, I never felt God’s presence;

I quit attending, but felt no shame.

I then traveled the whole world over,

met Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Jew.

Each claimed their god was the God.

But, the God said this was not true: 

I am the air, water, earth and fire,

all the forces of nature combined;

not restricted by man-made religion,

never man-owned, nor man-confined.

I am there on top of the mountains,

the valleys below, and upon the sea;

there are no places you may venture,

where you will not encounter me.

I haven’t been to church in a long time;

once, getting there was such a chore.

Perhaps I’ll go for old time’s sake,

and walk with God through the door.

~gj duerrschmidt

Letter to a Dear, Young Friend (or, Doing Versus Imagining)

My Dear Young Friend,

Most of what I experience

from now until the end of

my life will be imagined.

I’ve no longer the looks,

the body, the energy,

the will, nor the time left

to do most, if any of it.

Most of what you imagine

from now until the end of

your life you’ll experience.

You’ve got the looks, the

body, the vitality, the hot

desire, and the time left,

so, don’t waste a minute!

I once had all the time in

the world, and was afforded

many great opportunities.

I passed over most of them

because of one thing, and

one thing alone: fear.

Push the envelope, reach

beyond your comfort zone,

seize each moment as it

comes, be bold, and live

large on wide screen and

in Technicolor!

With much love, and envy,

your old friend,

~gj duerrschmidt

Cock Block: A Rooster's Tale

One day the gate was left opened,

and the old rooster decided to flee.

For the very first time in his life,

he knew what it meant to be free.

He could go any where he wanted,

no old hen was holding him back;

explore lands beyond the barnyard,

the very depths of his soul, in fact.

For years he searched for answers,

there’s so much he longed to know:

what was being a rooster all about,

what really put oomph in his crow.

Surprise! He favored young cocks;

he truly never loved old hens at all.

Clucking hens destroyed his libido;

youthful crowing made it stand tall.

Soon came along a young rooster,

wanting to marry and settle down.

At first, life together was heaven,

but then began turning around.

Spunky crows of a young rooster,

became cluckitty-clucks of a hen.

“Be still. Go to sleep. Just roll over.

Stop it now. I’ve a headache again.”

All he was mounting was tension;

his very roosterhood was at stake.

Night after night: no satisfaction.

How much of this could he take?

Once a rooster, always a rooster:

born to jump it, hump it, and crow.

Be it with old hen or young rooster,

he’s sick and tired of being told no.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

The Orangenous Zone 

20 lbs in a 5 lb. Bag, (or, Living More, Not Longer)

I most likely could’ve 

stretched my life out

twenty more years if

I gave a shit;

If I cared at all about

what I ate and didn’t

drink so much booze

on top of it.

Living more healthily

wouldn’t guarantee me

that I’d never get hit

by a truck; so,

Deep fried everything’s

the way I choose to go:

eat for pleasure and

not give a fuck.

Pleasure in this lifetime

is what I’m living for;

seizing each moment if

and when I can.

There is no more pleasure

awaiting once in the grave,

so if it pleases, just do it,

now is my plan.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

The Orangenous Zone 

Key West: The End of the Line

Pseudo legends in

their own minds,

kings of their hills,

walks of all kinds:

doctors and lawyers,

or Indian chief,

admirals, generals,

or corporate thief.

They drive taxis, wait 
tables, or tend a bar:

has-beens, burnouts,

coming from afar.

Please ask, they’ll tell;

do lend them an ear;

it’s sure to impress,

may bring a tear.

Most often there’s a

woman to blame,

did them dirty,

brought them to shame;

blissfully married until

one fateful day,

he lost her Jesus, or

found out he’s gay.

Once filthy rich,

now  broke as a joke,

they hustle beer, or

an occasional smoke;

the would’ve, could’ve,

should’ve boys,

fallen heroes on the

Isle of Misfit Toys.

~gj duerrschmidt

For more by this writer, visit:

The Orangenous Zone