Slavery Now - Doin' As I Please - To My Old Flame - Chanukah After All These Years - Happy Birthday: It's Opening Time - It Was 20 Years Ago - Today - Jessica is 25 - 59 - May Pole - The Judy Flag - Yes You May Day - Birthday Perkday - Hoodoo Land - Seig Howdy - Yippie Café
Slavery Now - 1/18/06 (rediscovered 2014)
dead as doornail
America still run by Plantation
a knowledgeable house slave
who carried Massah George's lies
all the way to Baghdad
and said it wasn't even heavy.
Doin' As I Please - 1/05/06 (rediscovered 2014)
Sharon could break all the rules
and live a happy life.
In a collective farming country
he owned his own land,
could also be involved in cruelty and lies,
corruption and war crimes,
be denounced by his own courts and commissions
and still be cheered as a rough tough
courageous man of peace
who could start his private political party
and create his private country.
But he couldn't get away eating
everything on the menu.
He was very fat
he got much fatter
and a deadly bomb exploded in his brain
It wasn't placed there by an Arab.
To My Old Flame - (6/25/92)
Judy was born 49 years ago.
She's been told that and believes it.
Judy doesn't remember very much about being alive
until she met me.
I remember more than she does.
But I don't remember anything better than meeting her.
Judy is my old wife,
my best friend and lover
and the wisest woman I ever knew.
I don't think life is fair.
Mostly we get cheated out of necessity
but Judy is so good she might cheat fate,
she might get justice, get what she deserves,
get recognition, get appreciation.
at least Judy will know one true thing.
Judy will know
she was really loved.
By Stewey, June 25, 1992, Happy Birthday.
Chanukah After All These Years - 12/8/93
Judy gave me first Christmas in Toronto.
In the big mean house I played at Joy Noel.
In Brooklyn I grew up jealous
of what was under Willy's crowded tree
and the happiness of TV specials.
I lit candles on Chanukah, said blessings,
got dimes and socks and underwear.
They told me I was lucky.
Judy gave me Christmas in the Catskills.
I took an axe into the pine forests and felt in my guts
those frozen country winters of fantastic beauty.
Ten below was planting time for true love.
We decorated our tree with anything but angels.
Judy and Stew gave Jessica Christmas in Berkeley.
So she wouldn't be jealous of what was under her friend's tree.
We were horribly punished by the plastic greedy pain of Toys R' Us
for going one generation too far into Christendom.
Judy, Stew and Jessica gave Portland Chanukah to each other.
No longer jealous of Bing Crosby family specials,
taking pleasure in oil-soaked latkes,
stuffing stomachs not stockings, lighting candles, sparking ancient flames.
Happy Birthday: It's Opening Time (June 25, 1995)
Her 52nd birthday is the third act.
Feeling old, Judy contemplates Jessica leaving the nest of love and purpose.
Judy will still feel young.
Freedom is not another word for senility.
Now Judy won't have to tell Jessica: read this, do this, believe this, come home by, leave by, get it done by or don't buy.
Since when does not having to give orders or proofread behavior
put on wrinkles and stiffen joints?
Judy is so much more than a mother hen.
She is half of my soul
a friend, a lover, an idealist, an adventurer, a romantic
my Curious George intellectual companion of 27 years
living under the volcano.
Judy has lived many parts
all played to perfection on the stage of chaos and discovery.
Why should this new role
with biographical loose ends of inspiring potentiality
packed with improvisational possibility, dramatic and comic opportunity
disturb Judy's hormonal balance, digestion or dreams?
It will be her best act.
Judy will summon the rest of her past and present
and find out something much better about herself and me.
She will have an interesting, great and good time
discovering the ultimate dimension of our love.
Marriage May Day May Day
20 years later and our merger outlasts the red holiday of utopian desire.
We have our secret celebration, our own love
a private nation of family sandwiches, a daughter, a cat, stuffed utopian animals, trips, questions, peaceful pleasures.
Marriage May Day May Day
So much has been lost.
Man overboard. May Day May Day
We found each other 20 years ago on a glistening afternoon
a hillside of memories and unforgotten friends.
Amidst chaos and cowardice, remembering, creating out of love and friendship
a soulful union of hope.
Judy Gumbo Albert is 56 (On the Beach) - Love from us both, 6/5/02. Happy Birthday.
These words are feelings of love and amazement for you.
Times are challenging and changing, cosmic decisions being made
by grown-ups for eternal children of the same soul
putting it on-line for hope and rebirth.
Birthday means newness, remembering its roots in your lifetime
courage and bold adventures of self-becoming.
You are always Gumbo's bold journey into my eternal love.
I remember you young, with bright embracing eyes
drinking happy life energy at the fountain.
Your inviting little nose sniffed and knew something was up.
I touched and was touched.
Now amidst pain and fear, our love still touches braveness in a new way,
a beginning and hope without ending.
I will love you forever. Happy Birthday! 6/25/1999
Jessica is 25
I was the first to see you 25 years ago,
I told Judy moments after you began the journey
"She has the eyes."
Penetrating power that looks at you and knows.
On your 25th birthday
those same eyes, undiminished and stronger
still look intensely.
Know that you are loved, cherished, respected beyond measure.
A sweet warrior celebrates a new chapter.
She is strong. She is ready.
A birthday celebrates the continuing chance we have
to invent happy universes, fantastic accomplishments,
funny jokes, pleasurable moments, great love and happy endings.
Because a birthday counts up life time
and proclaims that much more is on the way.
Considering your Judy energy and capacity for enthusiasm,
I lie back in continuous amazement
that you keep happening.
I am inspired to continue my own twisting road show through life's possible joys.
Your way proclaims what can be.
Judy, each year adds up my love
59 is more love than 58
I wonder how I got this lucky
that I am seeing you and being with you.
Knowing that your best and most beautiful is now and forever.
By your loving husband 6/24/02
Happy May Day Comrades
It's my wedding anniversary.
I met Judy in 1968 on the Berkeley campus.
It was Stop the Draft Week and she was new in town.
We married on May 1, 1977.
Our marriage outlasted our movement.
If only our communal consciousness and idealistic wisdom
had been as enduring as the love of a man and a woman.
I thought I could count on you, Comrades
but you got absorbed into the great American vacuum cleaner
of lost memory.
Judy makes it possible
to hope that Dubya will walk naked and ashamed.
If we could stick together bound by love, irony and kindness,
then anything good must still be possible.
- Stewey, May 1, 2003
The Judy Flag
Crawling upstairs out of breath
like drowning in sad streams
but with high purpose in my stumbling
knowing that in a room at the top
We are celebrating Judy's 61st birthday.
I need to give a speech of appreciation, hope and celebration.
Proclaiming limitless love.
We are half way through hell,
holding up to its flame.
Judy keeps going with fullest inspiration.
Her flag of Kavenah proclaiming the struggle continues forever.
And boldly, so does she.
Judy's flag is why I bother to get out of bed
doing battle in countless wars
her proud banner of one more noble year
her great gift to the stumblers up the stairs.
Let her quiet tears be dried in love and joy.
Happy birthday and all love always, Stewey. 6/25/2003
Yes You May Day
May Day is Married Day
‘cause Comrade Judy and I got married 28 years ago
on this ancient red-letter day.
She was eight months pregnant
under a sun shining Woodstock wedding of tie-dye chuppa
with friends and family cheering
Bill Kunstler cracking jokes
secret police skulking for underground Abbie
by blocking roads and reading licenses.
Loving lovers always be trumping lying liars
that's the story till now.
Except last year was spent in chemotherapeutic hell
accompanied by Dubya's stealing a second term.
A very bad year for good people.
But roses are budding, the garden awakens, the struggle renews,
the senior marrieds now ride off into western sunset
for bright month of legendary beauty.
Everybody must get renewed by love.
To Judy with undying love, Stewey 5/1/2005
28 years of bright lively spirit
renewing itself in achievement, aspiration
and many new adventures in the life force.
Eyes bright as the day she was born
looking to the future with hope
being great inspiration, love and energy
for her very proud parents.
To Jessica our wonderful daughter on her happy birthday. Love always. 6/5/2005
Hoodoo Land refers to a trip we took to the Utah badlands. Stew died 7 months after he wrote this.
I came crawling out of every layer of Hell
And found her in Hoodoo Land
Waiting in the distance of sadness
Wondering if love does come home again.
We looked into each other's eyes
Seeing great old times that no longer seemed buried or past.
Judy had the strength of hope
the confidence of cure.
The great mystery
gave Judy back her lover, partner, curly man best pal husband.
We found our soul in Hoodoo Land.
Happy 62nd Birthday Judy, only love of my life. Stewey. 6/25/2005.
Seig Howdy - April 25, 2003
not just mad Marxist-Leninist scientists
using the name in fear and loathing.
Ordinary liberals and libertarians
looking over their shoulders
nervously describing secret courts and prisons
torturous no Constitution terms of confinement.
Of a punishing bullying government
propaganda media thugs scandalizing
even the mildest critics in Bush Town.
Of fixed and future elections
billion dollar brain washing extravaganzas
once called political campaigns.
The conquest of Iraq
signals an ultra right-wing conquest of America.
Powell shuffles or is purged.
Along with all those gay gun control Dixie Chick pro-choice Republicans.
Every one always knew it could happen here.
Not by violence
but by money and the manipulation of minds.
Emperor George has one last task before he's untouchable.
Convince millions of Americans
that the economy tanked in the toilet
because liberals opposed giving billionaires
everyone's spare change.
He sells that one
and the goose step
becomes compulsory morning exercise.
Let me raise a cup to my fallen pals
The empty chairs and tables
At the Yippie Café
To Jerry Rubin, Abbie Hoffman, Phil Ochs and all the others.
In dreams they come for me.
And say they love me, miss me, want me.
OK, someday I'll be coming
But not just yet.
I've got a few more poems up my sleeve
And a few more Bushies to burn.
Stew wrote this poem on his 63rd birthday, 12/4/2002. I put it on his memorial card.