Monday, October 29, 2012

Echoes of the Boom: Part II

Part II

Under the bridge a man pacing
Above in the window a girl dreaming
Through the streetlights to the river

Oh give me a signal
I will give myself in secrecy

Students on the grass
And tall sad David stepping through them
Beating himself into his own eternity

Welcome the gray city day

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And comprehending
Are the only ones
Human enough
To make snowmen

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Eyes on a mobile
Paper eyes watching me
As I sleep

There are silhouetted heads
Peeking in my windows
Martians under my bed
Ghosts in my closet
Apparitions who walk the
Streets at night

I believe in Maurice Woodruff
Despite David Susskind
I could speak to the other side
But I won’t try, in case it works
And I really have to believe it
The moon is in Gemini

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

FM radio
Fade out and in
With forbidden rhymes and reasons
Stone man jockeys
Four letter words of love
And call letters
Signaling their tribe
Waiting attitudes
To bedrooms and beaches
Uniting the protest
Revolution for its invigorating quality
Running free and boundless
Sensual in angriness

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

My dog runs after
The sticks I throw him
Black-striped, and muscled,
He has a mournful face.
Alone in the sun
I daydream of loves
And lavish my loving overflow
On my dog, hugging him

He asks for nothing but sticks and loving
And does not complain
When locked up for the night.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

School in the sunshine
Abstract and not serious
My real education
Is out on the grass
Sprawling, rapping. Watching
And being watched

So many blue-jeaned hips
So much bowing hair
Passing quick smiles.
Humanity cannot be lost
If such spontaneous
Smiles are possible –

Dirty bared feet
Part of the answer
Bare elbows, bare neck napes
And bare dusty legs
The more naked the body
The more naked the soul.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

We were talking about Victorian Dickens
In my ultraprogressive seminar group
Some budding and prolific
Literatum choking over his pipe
Impressed me when he said that those
Who search for love won’t find it
Loving is a way of life. It was
A paraphrase of Dylan Thomas
Related smoothly
To Ibsen and Rousseau

You can’t entrap me now
A boutique of a mind studded
With colorful turns of thought,
Antique and social imagery
Men for fireplace discussions
Of books and the afterlife
For passionate intellectualism
I won’t try to possess you

Momentarily enthralled I am
Fostering upon my detached admiration
Irrational desires
My undisciplined emotional tirades
Would horrify you
What would you do with my demands
Upon your mind, your soul, your body?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spinning fantasies
From a touch
I make your touches

I want you
I want you not to matter

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I whiled away
That rainy day
In reverie and thought
Though well I knew
That idleness
Is hard and dearly bought

-- -- -- --


_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Giggles wrinkled
The teacups, and
Forced a raving vegetable
To upwards stare
Upon a golden urn;
Where I, a heap of
The finest ash,
Prepared for the

Attack! And lethal
Me-chars flew aligned,
For I had known hot
Hair upon my neck:

And randomly shot cinders
Into ravaged coal-burned eyes
Oh yeah
I had no logs to put into my
“A-shes, ashes
Warm, warm, furnace-baby…

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Stabbed obliquely
Through my body
I am impaled
Of that shaft of heat
With hot fork-fingers
I have

No wish to escape

But hang limply
Above the mother ground
There is no time

But only embers
Of a smoldering

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Though outwardly faultless
This choice Chunk of Brain,
His nature’s not human
I cannot refrain

From wondering how one
So exceedingly quick
To grasp printed text
Can be utterly thick

In matters not governed
By reason or rule;
He is blind to the meaning
The dullest fool

Would see in a swift
But significant glance
Or the half-playful banter
Exchanged at a dance

For when the distance between us
I tried to erase
His intelligence quotient
Slapped me in the face

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


I had the world
In my grip
And the sun was real
And the earth was solid
And arms and lips were warm
And strong

But time
Was a drifting soul
For I looked at you
And your face was blurred
And my arms held nothingness
After all

I floated away
Above the sun
And watched you, a
Speck on a speck of an earth
And you screamed, I hope you’re
Happy now

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sadness on Sunday
Is a common occurrence
In my mind.
Arising late, I find my world cut short
By primness and I
All my sins of the
Week loom blacker;
(Sweet kisses
Deserved and never
I stamp my foot at You!
And busy work
And meatloaf smells
TV football
Creeps under my door
To attack me
No People!
I wallow in such
My face is grimy
My hair in tangles
For Sunday I wear
My ancient Jeans.
O lovely sloth!
O world somewhere!
I burst tomorrow
In full array:
O grundy Sunday!
Gray longing
(A wiggly tooth
Is sore as Sunday)
Day for Nothing
Day of strange

-- -- -- --


How far I went
Before I found
That road had led me
Round and round

Till I had passed
The spot marked Go
A thousand times
I collected though

I had a scalp
A shrunken head
Into its gutless
Eyes I fed

All that I found
Along the way
Until that one
Ironic day

When all was gone
There were no more
It laughed at me
Rolled on the floor

With mirth and screeched
“I had you there!
All year you fed
My silent stare

And ran in circles
Now you see
That what you did
To strengthen me

Has left you nothing
In its stead
And all in vain
For I am dead

ALREADY!” and with
This parting shot
It turned to go
“Gee, thanks a lot”

I quipped, but then
Called out “But wait!
Don’t leave me in
This sorry state”

And quickly I
Unscrewed my head
And joined him on
The floor; I said

“My life has been
Much too sedate
Come show me how
You operate

We shook on that
And said no more
Our two heads rolled
Out through the door.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

There is a web
Of loneliness
Of restlessness
That weaves through
My life
That I cannot reach
Or run away from.
In crowded streets
In brightly lit rooms
I will feel it most.
I will feel that this
Is not what I had
Expected from life;
I am not the person
I had expected to be;
Yet I don’t know
What it is that I
Search for.
I am not unhappy;
I am not repressed.
But somewhere there
Is something missing,
Some meaning I
Cannot find within
But that I long for
I need
Some reason, some purpose
To live for.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I remember
The winter past
A sharp-edged night
So cold
The confusion of
From tall town

My hand in yours
We ran
Through the streets
And the green
To keep warm
And held tightly
To each other
The wind blew hard
I buried my face
In the tweed roughness
Of your overcoat
Beyond your shoulder
A shadow-red world
Of nighttime people

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It is
Warm in my
Mind, in the air
You are with me
And I know what I feel;
I am longing for a world
Where rules
Encompass all emotion;
Life is sea-green in your eyes
I’m not afraid
Of the reality deep
In their liquid warmness;
Treat me not
With love,
(For love is still
Too strange a word)
But gently

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I wonder what happened
To the other side of the fence
When hypnotized by intenseness
I took that running jump

Perhaps it was never there
In the first place
People do see illusions sometimes
When they’re hungry

But I do feel rather silly
Lying here on my back
With all those scraggly crows
Laughing and looking down at me

I should have known
A man must be strange
To have built all his
Fences in circles

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Happiness to me
Comes not through solitude
Though all my
Wizards caution
That this is
The purest way
To survive.
Isolation! They sing
Will leave you
Free to feel, to think –
To think of what?
I cannot lock
My mind away,
Nor flinch at
Every threat of pain;
A small investment,
Damaged pride;
The dividend
Is life…

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

My sun-world
Of daydreams
And stolen kisses
Teasingly scurries away from under
The reality cloud
Where you are;
Of your strength
And perception
You are
A tangibility
My mind cannot
Weave through
With singsong
With courage gathered
I could perhaps
Look levelly
Into your eyes
But it is such an effort –
(You know me
Too well and watch
My attempts at maturity
With patient amusement)
I am too young
To know total involvement
To give up the dreams
I have yet to live –
Wait for me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Survival becomes
All important;
There is no material
Nothing is owned
That cannot be taken away;
Gray walls and streets
Chickens in the yard
And ubiquitous eggs
To be taken and sold
For the Brotherhood.
In such a life
Of want, one craves
The mystic;
A strong impregnable
Building that houses a God;
A softener to life
Combined with homemade
The bread
And coffee taste
Like dust;
And life becomes
All-meaningful –
Desperation breeds
More love
Than affluence.
A letter from
The Free is magic;
An American
Dollar and icon –
I cannot feel like
They –
Paternal liberty
Is after all

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


I really don’t have anything
To write about at all
But here I am stranded
In a boring study hall

I’ve fifteen minutes left to kill
And all my homework’s done
There’s really nothing much to do
But sit which isn’t fun

For the harassed English teacher
Who’s assigned to this study room
Will for the softest whisper
Send a student to her doom

And down the hall is a classroom
Where a certain person sits
That’s really where I’d rather be
(I think I’ve lost my wits)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


Intended to guide
Posterity on its long and
Bloody path, something
Unique in history;
Perhaps you see, they will bring
Busloads of people to look
At my room and baby shoes
After I’m dead;

They will build romances
From high school rings
Left in my drawers,
Tragedies from moldy
Pressed in my anthology books.
I will be mysterious
Shrouded in mystery –

When asked of me, my
Lovers, now grown suavely
Wrinkled, will smile sadly
And sigh “I knew her when.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I cannot believe I
Face the reprehensible act
Of arising each morning –
The clock early hours
Are painful and cold
And the sleep strains my
I think of all the tasks
I must perform
Before I can again return
To oblivion,
Of synthetic quilts
And existence bores me –
I think of all my
Battered emotions one must take
Before the day will end –
Ha! Sleep serves the world.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Racing Rat that eggs me on
Will not be daunted, not be gone
No peace or refuge can I find
His teeth are lodged deep in my mind
And chew upon my fear

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Where are the lean
And hungry minds
That clamored to know all?

They could not find
The strength to climb
Above the High Church wall

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Lousy verse
Nothing worse
That’s why
This verse is terse

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I despise
Your eyes
They frown
In brown
And hint
In glints
Of golden

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Recluse et al
I may become
A lifetime wasted

But no harm done 

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