Author: Aaron

My name is Aaron. My dad told me he put the double A's out there so I wouldn't get a "B" on my report card. Conjure up a Redd Foxx voice: "Boy! What's this B-shit?! I didn't name you Aaron to get no B's! A-A ron!" I was born in 1974. I'm glad I can't remember the 70's. The clothing, the architecture, the music, I think everything about the 70's sucks. The 80's and 90's, that's where it was at. I've been called a "survivor", but everyone here is a survivor until we're not. Life is about winning some battles, but in the end, we all lose the war. It's not all battle and war either, but you get my point. I was born in Detroit and I've been drifting north and west, but I still haven't escaped the confines of the "rusty mitten". Michigan has it's plusses and minuses, but ultimately, I haven't escaped its gravity. I'm relatively new to the Word Press thing, but I've enjoyed collecting poems, thoughts and experiences in one place and I thank you for stopping by. Sincerely, A-A ron.

The Roaring 80’s

I missed Harwell’s timbre,
So I found some on the net.
But 84′, when the Tigers roared,
Was all that I could get.

I smiled for while recalling
The moxie of Morris as he tossed a no hitter,
His crafty curve ball,
Bombing breaker, sizzling splitter.

But thoughts of 84′, turned to thoughts of 82′.
How you loved Ernie, and how we lost you.
Your relentless punning on Gibson’s name:
“Gibby a home run!”
Whenever his turn came.

How I wish you’d made 84′
And could hear
Those Tigers roar.


Yesterday My Life Was Filled With Rain

Memory is a tattered blanket,
Whipping in the breeze.
It doesn’t cause calamity,
Doesn’t set my mind at ease.

There’s so little to hang on to
By now I should let go.
Still I carry it, I carry you
Back and forth, to and fro.

I recall a summer day,
when you sang me Bobby Hebb.
And you a vision of beauty,
You were my only need.

“Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain.”
“Sunny, you smiled at me and really, really eased the pain.”

Sunny, one so true.
I still love you.

Stars and Harbors

Forgiveness is the line that keeps us moored,
When weather becomes a beast.
Kindness is a cove that shelters
When the wind roars in the east.

Hope is the promise, that once more,
We sail the calm seas of a storm free day.
Love is a gentle breeze blowing,
Sending us once more on our way.

Treasury Department

Tender your tender tender to me.
Your love alone will set me free.
We’ve been hardened by time and age,
Losses mounting from the wars we wage.

Tender your sweet tender
Surrender to me.
Be my crumbling wall,
By an ancient sea.

I don’t know what we have left to spend.
I do know how I want it to end.

Soy Campeon

A brief smattering of words
To indicate that today was.
Was more than red exclamation points.
Tiresome emails. Running over the same ground.
Writing on the adult chalkboard a trillion times.

Today could be the middle of the week
In the middle of a middling life
Of a man stuck in the middle.

Or today could be appreciated for what it is:
A gift.
Thank you oxygen that fills my lungs.
Thank you sunrise.
Thank you sweet and tender love that I have known.
I’m alive and well, and the champion of my soul.