Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Sonnet 52 – So Much for Peaceful Old Age

Sonnet 52 – So Much for Peaceful Old Age
I am bored beyond all sense and reason,
Sans child and career, my late days grow stale.
So high a price I paid in youth’s season,
I played the gamble and so, did I fail.
Long days in silence, living on the dole,
Not one moment of “normal” in my life.
Do guts and courage show a female’s soul?
Should I have sold young beauty to be wife?
And now, my America has lost its mind.
Slipped down the Rabbit Hole of hate and greed.
New fashioned to be racist and unkind,
And gleeful to see neighbors starve and need.
So, old and crippled, I must be Samurai,
And go down fighting, even if I die.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Margaret Coughlan made a video of the First 50 Sonnets

shake rattle and roll

shake rattle and roll

will it be an earthquake or wildfire
that settles it once and for all
or just plain age?

got hurricanes here and tornadoes
floods at the bottom of the hill
nature in rage

i don’t understand my sudden fears
or why my blood is running cold
i shouldn’t care

something evil tingles in the air
i hope that I’m just being dumb
i dare not dare

don’t care about dead or dying men
they left me to survive alone
and I aced it

this chance we have to rescue the earth
is being lost to sex and chatter
we will waste it

Monday, May 28, 2012

Sonnet 51 – Barbarians at the Gate

Sonnet 51 – Barbarians at the Gate
The time has come, the Walrus said, to speak,
And look away from Ipads and MacBooks,
To smell our World, which has started to reek.
The Knights and Bishops lost all to the Rooks.
They lied and cheated to get our money,
And are working now to usurp our rights.
We can’t escape this by being funny,
Our freedoms will die if we lose these fights.
Remember, there is more to Life than sex,
And stop being a slave to easy debt.
Don’t doubt that they’ve already stacked the decks,
And think they’ve already covered each bet.
E Pluribus Unum: from many, one.
All people united or we are done.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

We Need A Plumber to FIx This Drip

The Steady Drip, Drip, Drip of Reinhard #7
What do you imagine the perfect love match to be? Endless conversation or endless sex?  Do you see yourself laughing and cooking together and walking hand-in-hand. Since many of you are younger than me, do you still, in this economy, picture children and a house? I married twice. Both of them told me repeatedly that they felt they were doing me a favor and did not love me because I wasn’t “special” enough. If there was any daydream of being supported by a man, I usually had to pay a little more than half of everything, but #1 did take the credit card with more charges run up on it to atone for being the one who rang them up. I am 62 years old and there are 2 million more women than men in America. I don’t see any Knights riding MY way and I sure as HELL am not spending another cent to be told what’s wrong with me. If there is to be anyone, he will be my age, retired and comfortable. My generation was SO much better at sex than any man younger than me can imagine. If I do meet my Grandpa, we may only talk about the old days in the sack, but we will be smiling. And I never forget that any man who stumbles into my life usually has a coterie of adoring older females who hiss and snarl if I get too close. They work hard to be more clever and more attractive than me and I don’t care. This is me. Plain and simple, no dye or makeup. No fancy clothes or witty bon mots. I don’t have the time for being “special.” I only have time for being myself. Take it or leave me alone. I don’t have time for games…literally…I’ll be dead in ten years, I don’t have time.

The Steady Drip, Drip, Drip of Reinhard #8
I really don’t want to worship anybody or anything except Nature. While I am fascinated with Philosophy and learn from teachers, I don’t want to be a follower of Buddha or Dharma or whoever is hip right now and I have a feeling that those guys would nod and say, “AH! She gets it!”, slap hands, and move along on their journeys. Our society is turning into one that is making plants and animals and people die. I’m starting to get what they are up to: Make everyone with problems or anyone they disagree with…just go away…disappear and let me eat whatever I want and do whatever I want until I…just go away. I have a friend who can commune with animals. If he sits on the ground, they gather around and no one says or barks or honks a word, they are just comfortable with each other and the world. Maybe that’s the secret for the rest of humanity. Sit down. Shut up. Share your cookie and just enjoy the warm breeze and sunshine and be quiet! Don’t make anyone else’s life worse. As the Masters have said, “We are all bozoes on this bus.”

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Off the Market, Into Life

Love is where you find it, in many forms.
It’s more than a box of hearts and flowers.
Right now, the world is full of hate and lies,
Only friends will shelter us from showers.

Damsels in distress; Knights in white armor,
Don’t exist in real life, my pretty boy.
The dreams of houses and children are gone.
We’re just too old for sex to be our toy.

Let’s take the business out of friendship
And ask nothing in return but laughter.
Give our greatest love to our Mother Earth,
Making all happily ever after.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

A Speech from Ohio Finale No Character Yet

I do know what the word “psychedelic” means. Orange and lime green and in your face purple that was solid as a rock  and yet flowed like a river, and you…wrapped your eyes in it and it all, like, fucking dripped and ran and bled down the wall. And it crawled right up into my fucking body and entered my eyes and, like, exploded out of my ears.  Fuck! Black light posters and lava lamps and the music….that fucking music, man….“Inna Gadda De Vida, baby…that’s where I’m…somethin’…you…” No, man, don’t worry, I’m not going to go all Woodstock on your ass. “One, two, three…what are we fightin’ for…” Shit! Probably owe somebody five dollars nowadays, for singing a line of their song, but that was OUR song! It was ours! And we didn’t call it “denim” so much as “blue jeans”, like our blue jeans jacket with a big peace sign, POW! In psycho-delic colors covering the back. And the front all with the pins and badges: “Make Love, Not War.” “Make LOVE…not WAR.” And oh, we did make love and it was love even when you didn’t know her name. Pure love, Baby. 

Monday, May 21, 2012

Time To Make The Donuts

Some days are formal
Others are free verse

I am not normal
But I am not worse

I need certain rhymes
To lift my spirit

Remember the times
Trying to clear it

Forgive the forcing
Of my poetry

I am just horsing
With the moiety

Spellcheck says it’s real
And that’s all I need

To know that I feel
And that you can read

Saturday, May 19, 2012

The Steady Drip, Drip, Drip, of Reinhard, Continued

We missed the boat, didn’t we? Sitting here wondering what to do when you’re supposed to have kids and grandkids to take care of those empty hours. Or, we should be rich enough to meeting “The Gang” or lunch in NYC or LA or ATL or wherever “it” is “happening.” But, we blew it. We are merely surviving. Sure, there are friends and lunches and dinners, but then we go home alone. Those days of waking up in Queens with a beautiful male model are long, long gone. I don’t even want to see my naked body any more. And yes, sure, Sir, you can still make kids if you want, but do you have the energy to keep up and will you be there to see them graduate, if you can pay for college? I’m not sure why I am still here. I lost a friend last year who told wonderful, magical tales of his huge family and his lunches in NYC and LA and London and after his death, we found out that every story was a total lie. But, I must say, Frank, you did make life more interesting.

I haven’t smoked since 1991 and I never was that good at it to begin with. My mother would shake her head and sigh that a pack a day of the lightest brand wasn’t really SMOKING…and I didn’t inhale deep enough. We were forbidden to smoke in the Ohio University Theater Department, so we all did it. I coughed and choked to get addicted at the age of 20. And today, after enjoying my second gluten-free beer, the thought of a cigarette crosses my palette and slides down my throat and fills my lungs and then it’s over. Not at $6 a pack. My one pack a day habit would be $200 a month and I’d rather spend that on chocolate. What made me quit was my doctors told me that if I didn’t quit, they wouldn’t see me any more. And then, my assistant director of the King’s County Production of “Alice ‘91” offered me $20 to quit. He wasn’t that rich, and no, we weren’t. He was 22 and I was 42; but I just did it immediately. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I just didn’t know how to do an addiction right.

It’s finally dawning on my pea brain that I have it fairly easy and comfortable and settled. Even accepting that I will live alone and get weaker from the MS, at least I’m not fighting huge regrets and hungry demons. I  have seen the destruction the HR and HD can do and while I am not a has been, I am a never was and that’s easier. Remember that, my theatrical children, and concentrate on the work. Concentrate on making the audience think. The stage is an event that only lives in the memory and each performance is its own piece of art. Even the audience changes the dynamic. Have fun with it. All I ask is that no matter how hungry and broke you are, don’t compromise, especially the female actresses who are often asked to prostitute their bodies for a paycheck. That’s when you wait the tables and wait for another break because, if you take THAT one, you may never escape till you age out of it; and then all the doors will be closed. As for the playwrights, well. Write something, damn it. Get your friends to read it for you. Do it in the public square. Get it on paper on the chance it will exist and remember, there’s always Google docs.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I was asked to write this for the Church Gazette

Like every year at this time, our thoughts turn toward Summer, the time of ease and vacation, when our regular obligations are postponed until after Labor Day, when we are expected to snap back to being serious and alert. However, this is the summer of 2012 and this country is on the verge of disastrous financial decisions and the destruction of our civil rights as we know them.

When we elected the first African-American President, we did expect to see some pale and lame racist protest which we were sure would be easily dismissed. We didn’t realize until the elections of 2010 that it was a large, well-organized movement that would take over the Congress. Suddenly, fifty years of social progress was being erased as the far right felt empowered to proudly fly the flags of racism and sexism. They immediately froze all action in the Congress because they knew that their constituency was so excited at the prospect of hurting the poor and minorities that they would sacrifice their own well-being to hurt those whom they perceive as weak.

We have to be prepared to not relax this summer with a critical election 5 months away. Our own Governor is an unpredictable servant of the rich. The conservatives, in almost every state government, are attempting to destroy women and children’s health and safety, and bring back a form of Jim Crow against African-Americans. The very right to vote is being cancelled.

We cannot take this summer off from action and education. They will not shut down and neither should we. Even though New Jersey has not started harassing voters, we must make sure everyone is registered. As so much harm is being done because of ignorance, we must be constantly teaching ourselves and our community the truth that is being buried in rhetoric and lies.  The Undoing Racism Committee will be working all summer long to bring heightened awareness to the community. There might not be a summer vacation for many of us in 2013 if we lose focus in 2012. This really is Life or Death.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Steady Drip, Drip, Drip of Reinhard

Side Effects: Whitening of the hair; droop of the breasts; wrinkling of the face; sagging of the neck; increase in belly fat; odd brown spots and skin tags. Do not take if you wish to get laid again or succeed in Show Business. Do not combine with alcohol and driving a vehicle.  Speaking to a teenager may cause rolled eyes and sighs. Loss of control of bladder, bowls and nasal passages is possible. Do not leave the house without checking for your keys and cell phone.  Stop immediately if you try to get money from your bank account and it shows the amount to be $0, you might not be able to get any older.

My last two significant plays had female Professors in the leads and I’m six months short of a BA and there’s not much point in worrying about it now that I’m retired and the colleges would charge the price of a small car for that one semester.
I don’t read enough and I watch too much television. This has made me peculiarly inarticulate, except when writing a play. And it’s particularly frustrating right now when so many people are saying so many uniformed, stupid things because they have discovered that they enjoy being bullies.

I’m starting to suspect, as I near sixty-three, that I might not make it in show business and while writing can be fun, it would be pathetic to hope for fame or riches or even a good review. “Any day now, I’ll get my break!” is ringing hollow when your face is fat and full of wrinkles and you walk with a limp. In my mind’s eye, I’m still that hot hippie chick with bouncing boobs, but when I look in the mirror, I see the truth and it needs a bra.

Monday, May 14, 2012

Sonnet L Getting Off the Ride

The Roller Coaster is a magic thrill,
But, Angel, I can’t do it every day.
We’re warm and happy going up the hill,
But the descent will soon be on its way.
I’m too old to live on the borderline
Between laughing joy and bitter fury.
All I want to know is that you are fine,
But you need to be my judge and jury.
Right now, the world needs our full attention
Before it goes up in murderous flames.
We don’t need to be causing more tension,
And wasting our time on gossip and games.
I am proud that I know the best of you,
Remember me as your old friend named Sue.

Friday, May 11, 2012

I Talk About Playwriting, Here They Are

I was asked to arrange a listing of my plays. These are the best and most complete. THE COPYRIGHTS ARE REAL and enforced. However, I would love to get productions if anyone is interested in contacting me. Also, if these web addresses do not work, advise me at and I will set you up via the web. You should be able to click on these.


DRAMA (R rated)
My take on “Cyrano de Bergerac”, but now it is a female, Siriana D. Bergmann. Set in NYC in 1996, but touches M. Rostand’s great scenes…and emotions

DRAMA (X rated)
Possibly my masterpiece, but it is about some very adult subjects. I was told I couldn’t write a villain. They were wrong. Greek tragedy in modern times.

DRAMA (G rated)
I was born in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where there was a flood you might have heard about,  in 1889. Not just my family’s story, but a truly relevant story of corporate greed and carelessness, which has more than a little resonance today.


COMEDY (G rated)
An all female cast of 7. The NYC theater “A Woman’s Place” is desperate for money and invites the Montclair, NJ organization The Elizabeth Barrett Browing Center for the Performing Arts to come see a show down in the Village. My attempt to mix the contemporary with door-banging farce.

DRAMA (PG rated)
My second best play, again because I was challenged by New York writers. They told me that a Christian man could not be a hero. That is stereotyping. So I made him Southern and a cop. Valjean Roland has to prove to his wife and the audience that there are some good people out there who do believe in Jesus. You might recognize Riza from “Frenzy Witchcraft”. I am very proud of this play.

DRAMA (PG rated)

A bit self-indulgent, this is a play about the insanity when I was 42 and still attractive to men and realizing that I might not ever find the right one. The artist I found in the mountains of Quebec was a compelling tragedy as were the two American men who touched my life at that time. And yet, I did it once more two years ago on a different mountaintop. Sometimes, you have to refresh the lesson.

COMEDY (R rated)

Controversial in that there is sex in it between a 16-year-old boy and a 21-year-old girl. That he is white and she black turns out not to be the problem, but the age difference is. A one act play with a 9 year break in it. But it is a simple, refreshing little comedy…I think.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Sonnet XXXXVIIII-50 is Next, Look up the Roman Numeral

The East Coast gets these four day rainstorms;
The wind churns a circular motion.
All I want is a book and tea that warms,
And leave the clouds to war with the ocean.
I sit amid clutter and unread books,
I think I still hope daydreams will come true.
I know I’ve lost my figure and my looks,
Use of the word “I” so much makes me blue.
Always thought myself above normal life
But all I got was lots of crazy men.
And lost the chance to be a Mom and wife,
There is no way to do it yet again.
My goals are now to clean this apartment up,
And leave me better rhymes than “cup” and “pup”.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Why is it that when we are free

Why is it that when we are free
We need so to enslave ourselves
To Love?

Are they coming to rescue us
Or to distract us from the chore
At hand?

The world is crumbling into dust
We are losing the daylight, Sir
It’s now.

Too late for me, I understand
And turn my pen to save the world

You do whatever you have to
And I accept that you are wise

You be leader I will follow
Until my path parts wide from yours

Let’s meet again on the other side
Free of age and sex and money
And laugh.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Sonnet XXXXVIII - Growing Old Clumsily

Life, for everyone, has daily duties,
To eat up and clean up and pay the bills.
And, in passing, observe the small beauties,
Ocean, animals, babes, and golden hills.
I’m tired of chasing Love and the stage,
And proud of my perfectly hard boiled egg.
My back is too weak for the days of rage,
And I can’t march far on this bad left leg.
No man wants to see this old bodkin bared,
Hell! Even I don’t desire to see the sags.
But there’s little adventure I haven’t dared,
Memories live in the wrinkles and bags.
So, drink good tea as we rock on the porch.
And just be strong enough to pass the torch.