5/5/09
The Emissary
I have come not to compel
But persuade you of the truth of my words
That you may become as a bird
And claim the blue-dawn horizon
Leaving behind musty prison bars
And clinging cobwebs
And the many invisible hands which bound you
Unfettered
Your eyes open and reverent
Free of the stilted dumbness of worry
And the gray phantasmagoria of doubt
The cling and clang of want
All such riddled perspective we may espouse
Be rid of all
Yea I see in your mind
And thus may we rhyme:
A sepulchral pedestal
On which stands in hoary frost
An angel made of stone
Who mourns for why the lost?
Leave behind these graves of time gone past
Neither loot nor plunder
In time to come your eyes shall see
The cause of mankind’s blunder
But now stretch wings my feathered friend
And savor time for now
Never then and never was
Never why nor how
The serpent caught her tail once
And once more will release
In cyclic winding patterned verse
In song her soul to peace
Forget this poem now and let
Bygones be their bygones
And memories laid at lest to rest
The dark before all dawns
It is time to twitter thankfully
And dance up in the sky
This is what our lord has said
No longer need we try
But trust this role allotted us
And trust in this our place
I am just but and emissary
A witness to this grace
Bounce and chirp to heart’s content
Lose not a thought or care
For where might be your home;
Family;
Soul;
Well I’m sure you’ll find
…It’s everywhere
5/7/09
My heart hammers
And my blood has become as a cesspool
A microcosmic experience of the two decades
Wherein the adder spilt his venom into my marrow
It strikes me as beyond reprehensible
That politically we espouse the systematic
Polluting of our earth and our air and our water
In the name of economic progress
Now in our affluence we export our industry to China
So the Maoists can rape their country and heritage
And export plastic
Which fills our landfills
And that pathetically empty place in our hearts
Where moths flutter betwixt musty cobwebs
Oh! As tumors crawl over my testicals like wormy maggots
And the slime of so many greedy men
Is spilt into the evacuative canals of my entrails
I wonder at what madness guides this world
And how its inhuman gaze might be curtailed
While we seem all but helpless
Our lives plucked short one by one
In cyclopean fashion
Gnashed and mashed in the bloody maw
Our brains our bodies to pulp
In the gorged gut of gluttony
Dumb and mute before the flickering idiot box
Inert in our yellow-gray torpor
Led like pigs before the trowel
That trample one another underfoot
For their daily intake of filth
Oh! How I loathe to take to such cynicism
And I daily pray and believe the best should reveal itself in humanity
A lamb unafraid amidst wolves and lions
But as its bile consecrates my veins
And putrefies my organs
I wonder at this world
Its madness
And why I am not allowed to escape it
-------
Noni (To the tune of that Jew-song)
Noni noni noni
I drink you everyday
You bring me light
You bring me life
And take the bad away
Hooray!
-----
The irony is that
When I wanted to die
Life found me
Now that I want to live
Death won’t leave me alone
Like a friend you keep around out of sympathy
Rather than for the virtue of their company
But really
Perhaps it’s not in the living or dying
But in the wanting of for either
That is the true cause for error
Hmmm…
----
5/9/09
I hate jazz
The color is like cows moaning
The dissonance like cats groaning
The form like mashing your brain with a mallet
Its eroticism like syphilis
Its soul a painted harlot flaunting her jaunty ‘goods’
This disease made music
Monkeys groping each other in a dark
Impure, corrupt and bawdy
A drunken leach leering after your sister
And soon to pass out in a pool of his own vomit
If my comments are terribly politically incorrect
It’s because I’m speaking my mind
To which I am unrepentant
And I can only thank God
I don’t have jazz stuck in there
Like sharing your space with a whining mosquito
On a hot and sticky day
With far too little wind
And if you like jazz yourself
And find this poem offensive to your opinions
I invite you write your thoughts
Particularly of the tastelessness and impish barbarism
Of Vivaldi, Bach, Handel;
Mozart and Beethoven
To those whom are of like mind to myself
And share in my musical sentiments
You will no doubt recognize and resonate
With the precision of my metaphors
As you and I know without any shadow of doubt
How much better the world would be
If those of sound spiritual compass
Navigated these tremulous currents
And alone were granted authority
To shape the waves of our time
That golden harmonics preserved and honored
And the tasteless and debauched were snubbed
That the consciousness of this world
Should become as light and crystal
Pure and undiminished
Now and forevermore
---
5/12/09
Soul’s yearning this night
For painted wings of gossamer silk
To enshroud the terrestrial spirit
In baptismal starlight dancing
On my beaming heart
5/15/09
What is this wistful sigh?
For want of what you seek?
Can you know?
Or do you grasp at sand and vapor?
These tremulous heart-feelings disturb my better sensibilities
As I was certain I no longer wanted for love
And all its phantasmagoric delirium
I have wanted (I thought) only for the purity of diamond
And not for the fleeting promises of maypoles and lilies
I have wanted for the truth, the stone, and the rock
Or for a cosmic symphony of awesome stature
Not this silly heart-feeling of such infuriatingly small proportion
Like the flicker of butterfly wings
Or mud pies in the summer-time
It is an itch of cotton dandelion seed
That just seems to linger
Hovering there in the air
Not receding into the distance
And not making up its mind to settle
And disappear beneath the grasses and other green things
It smiles at me and giggles
And most of me wants to rend it to pieces for its naked effrontery
And cast it into searing white-hot flame!
To be purified to ash and carbon
And pressed into diamond
Pure and harmonic
And never marred by that impulsive impishness that is life again
Oh to see it die
And to twist and writhe and contort into the uniformity of death
What is this bizarre desire?
And why is it betrayed by that part of me that just wants to smile benignly
And touch the reeds and grasses and smell the lilies
And enjoy that gentleness in my heart for however long it should last
I hate to love
And love to hate
This paradox that warps and schisms and complicates
Why do I hate life and love it?
They are two serpents that twist around my thigh-bones
And whose tongues flicker under the knuckle-bones of my hands
And bid me write for God knows what purpose
Forever to torment me and never to grant absolution
That one should be victor
If only I could call one ‘master’
To delight in wrath and suffering and the glory of Thanatos
Or the life of patience, nurture, and affectionate joy that is the mandate of angels
I want for neither
Yet desire the release of either
Both are freedom
So it feels as though I am stretched down the middle
Each serpent splaying my legs farther
Rifting my mind wider
And making me altogether the more aware
Of this infuriating
Tormenting
All too human feeling
This feathered softness
That won’t vacate my heart