Dennis Wayne Bressack

How to do Nothing in Half the Time

Time is the great equalizer.
Everyday another rock icon dies
and a little bit of me goes with them.

I am certain that life is uncertain,
crawling past me like a python
ready to strike at my jugular.

So rather than sit idly by
and wait to pay the piper,
I do nothing in half the time.

Politicians are a rare, never brief-breed.
Certainly in rating prime rib beef,
they are bred to be raw and cantankerous.

Especially true during the presidential caucus circus
that comes to small town USA once every 4 years
to spread bull manure on virgin fields.

Honesty is left at the roadside tavern,
lies bloat the airwave edifice as
they do nothing in half the time.

Stars That Can Be Found Elsewhere Other Than The Sky

They say that stars can be found elsewhere other than the sky,
but, I am not certain that is true.

Oh sure, there are shooting stars in your eyes,
their feet etched onto television’s “Dancing With The Stars”,

there are Hollywood’s movie stars with their names
etched into stone walks in front of Grumman’s Theater,

there are musing music stars making millions with their voices etched into vinyl discs sold on itunes for .99 cents a digital song,

there are Manhattan theater stars in lavish, overpriced productions, their names etched onto Broadway marquees,

there are stars on the sleeves and chests of soldiers,
their names etched into endless rows of white marble, surrounded by small American flags,

there are gold stars given to students for work well done,
their names etched on molding diplomas found in attics in every small town.

Yet, nothing quite compares to
those twinkling, heavenly bodies of hot gas
that stipple and fill and light up our black night skies.
as man looks up in wonder at the brilliance of
untouchable shining bodies,
unreachable except in one’s imagination.

Stuck in the Middle With …

          “Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right
          Here I am, Stuck in the Middle with you”

I look around my home and see and touch
material objects to which I am attached.
I smell scents and sense I am not alone with my thoughts as
I listen to Stealers Wheels’ “Stuck in the Middle with You”
stuck in the middle of my mind
like some Amusement Park Ferris Wheel.

I am stuck in the middle with
only irreverent rainbows for my tour guide.
Though I believe that the soul never dies and
its’ energy is transformed into some other formation,
I am often pushed to the lonely edge of my sanity,
staring down over the rocky cliff into oblivion.

In its essence, this poem only deals with this physical body,
in this cognizant moment in time on earth,
when I reach for some recognition that I am here,
that I am akin to skin and bone and blood and gut,
and not just wispy, spinning spirit stuck in the middle,
choosing between life and death.

About the Author

Dennis Wayne Bressack lives in Woodstock with his wife, Abby. They have 2 sons, Noah and Justin, and 4 grandchildren. He has been writing intensely personal, social, and political poetry, articles, and essays for over 50 years. Dennis is a member of The Woodstock Poetry Society and Calling All Poets and has been a featured reader at their meetings as well as many other venues in the Mid- Hudson Valley, New York City and New Jersey. He has been published in many anthologies, magazines and journals, including Sensations Magazine, Writers in the Mountains, The Woodstock Journal, The Home Planet News, The New Paltz News, Wildflowers, Chronogram, Waymark (Voices of the Valley), Heyday, Life Blood (Woodstock Poetry Society) and Footsteps. One of his poems, about the adoption of his son from Russia, was chosen for publication in a book issued by the Frank Foundation Child Assistance International Organization. An article reminiscing about his high school wrestling experience is now on the school's web-site and appeared in the yearly alumni newsletter. He has self-published 7 chapbooks and recorded 2 music CDs. You can find samples of his poems, writings, songs and photos on his website,

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