Dreaming of Sugar Plums

A few weeks ago I received another large shipment of used books and included in the mix was a copy of John Berryman's Dream Songs--a collection of signature poems that this troubled soul produced over his lifetime.  Berryman was a close friend to Saul Bellow, but not even Bellow could save Berryman from his alcoholism and his suicidal thoughts.  In the end, Berryman left behind this massive collection of semi-autobiographical poems, many of which contain references to "Henry", which is a personification of Berryman himself. I began reading Berryman thirty years ago in college and have continued to appreciate his many gifts as a poet eager and ready to describe the interior of the troubled mind.  Many of his Dream Songs are incredibly perceptive and emotionally charged.

Last week I had the following poem published in Satire & Commentary (thanks, Ron), though I'm not sure if this sonnet would qualify as an autobiographical work or one of satire.  I wrote it, as you will see, shortly after turning off the tube and realizing the TV was warping my mind. The older I get, the less TV I watch and the more I feel I can do without it.  Here's why.

Late Night TV

One night, restless with insomnia,

I turned the TV on and channel surfed.

For seconds at a time I sighed and cursed

And wavered between rage and paranoia.

The preachers were a frequency of greed,

The advertisements flaunting what I lacked.

The politicians, without truth or tact,

Revealed that there was no one left to lead.

And other pundits to the left or right

Tossed back their parting shots and asked for me

To trust that they knew truth and liberty

And were the path to follow through the night.

At last, in seeking sleep and mental health,

I turned the damn thing off, and found myself.