my life is catatonic
i'm as numb as the song says i am
but not comfortable
my sex life is capricious
like watching two jellyfish collide
in a tank of water
my job lacks catharsis
i want to change the world not
service the mundane
my emotions are cacophonic
like a pile-up on the freeway
that only interferes
my philosophy is callous
i despise everyone and everything
myself most of all
Relenting
Will you join me in the word dance
May I take your mind
And step in time
Pull close within a trance?
May I rivet you with an argument
Quell your protests
Slowly digress
Until at last you relent?
Except that I can but succumb
Can but express
The emptiest
Of what I would become.
May I take your mind
And step in time
Pull close within a trance?
May I rivet you with an argument
Quell your protests
Slowly digress
Until at last you relent?
Except that I can but succumb
Can but express
The emptiest
Of what I would become.
A Song of Praise to Apathy
Supreme apathy, be my God;
Secure for me a name unknown;
Cast me not from thy earthly heaven;
Crown me with mediocrity.
All aspirations have I perceived and scorned,
Life's span no different than a single day.
Walk with me I pray, through fog and mist,
And bury me in the graveyard of forgetfulness.
Secure for me a name unknown;
Cast me not from thy earthly heaven;
Crown me with mediocrity.
All aspirations have I perceived and scorned,
Life's span no different than a single day.
Walk with me I pray, through fog and mist,
And bury me in the graveyard of forgetfulness.
On a Minor Betrayal
Oh, I've been alone through it all.
The friends who walked a mile or a year
Are all gone, with more of the same lot coming along,
To day by day do some play by play on the petty and perfunctory,
Whilst I, in solemn hidden wrath, cut apart their small deceits
To find, the giant monstrosity buried beneath.
Oh, I've seen my share of truth.
The slight behaviorisms, the routine clichés,
The rare collapses of their present fronts and past flaunts;
Delusion and blind intention birth their thoughts, and, like a great whore
To her bastard children, they raise these thoughts as though
They were heaven's very angels, blessed and pure.
Oh, but we will all carry on.
You and I will live it through till bitter end,
Till, found at last in wretched, awful paradigm, we see
Clearly, acutely, and with fatal comprehension, that for our small sins
There is no redemption. Oh innumerable! oh sublime!
The perfect agonies with which we bless our brothers.
The friends who walked a mile or a year
Are all gone, with more of the same lot coming along,
To day by day do some play by play on the petty and perfunctory,
Whilst I, in solemn hidden wrath, cut apart their small deceits
To find, the giant monstrosity buried beneath.
Oh, I've seen my share of truth.
The slight behaviorisms, the routine clichés,
The rare collapses of their present fronts and past flaunts;
Delusion and blind intention birth their thoughts, and, like a great whore
To her bastard children, they raise these thoughts as though
They were heaven's very angels, blessed and pure.
Oh, but we will all carry on.
You and I will live it through till bitter end,
Till, found at last in wretched, awful paradigm, we see
Clearly, acutely, and with fatal comprehension, that for our small sins
There is no redemption. Oh innumerable! oh sublime!
The perfect agonies with which we bless our brothers.
Games
I. Children's Game
Little Gaia come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she chase me, run away.
Little Aello come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she snatch me, run away.
Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you chase me, run away.
Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you snatch me, run away.
II. Adult's Game
They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I stay here, run away.
They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I die here, run away.
Can you see their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I stay here, run away.
Can you hear their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I die here, run away.
III. God's Game
Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it chase me, run away.
Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it snatch me, run away.
Little Gaia come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she chase me, run away.
Little Aello come to play;
She cannot wait another day.
I will run through grasses,
Though she snatch me, run away.
Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you chase me, run away.
Were you there to watch us play?
Can you wait another day?
I will run through darkness,
Though you snatch me, run away.
II. Adult's Game
They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I stay here, run away.
They wait with smiling faces;
Over the hills they wait and sing.
You should run through grasses,
Though I die here, run away.
Can you see their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I stay here, run away.
Can you hear their smiling faces?
Can you hear their song?
You should run into the light,
Though I die here, run away.
III. God's Game
Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it chase me, run away.
Little Me come to play;
I cannot wait another day.
I will run forever,
Though it snatch me, run away.
Duplicity
The one I am and the other one,
And all of them together in a row;
I trot them out and switch them up
Till you can't tell friend from foe.
They call it "oh so despicable,"
"So contemptible," "what a shame";
But me, myself, and the other I
All agree they're the ones to blame.
Who said that what's integral
Must thereby be what's right?
If each in its own strange sense is true
Why not let them all be you?
And all of them together in a row;
I trot them out and switch them up
Till you can't tell friend from foe.
They call it "oh so despicable,"
"So contemptible," "what a shame";
But me, myself, and the other I
All agree they're the ones to blame.
Who said that what's integral
Must thereby be what's right?
If each in its own strange sense is true
Why not let them all be you?
An Encounter
Longer than a relapse
Hide my eyes
Fear reveals the passing
Side by side
A table in the window
And a tempest within
Draw me a guard-rail
And I'll drown till I swim
Force beyond the distance
To the strain of all
Cover up the portrait
And abandon the call
A tablet that was broken
And a temple to blind
Dark is the mountain of love
I find
Hide my eyes
Fear reveals the passing
Side by side
A table in the window
And a tempest within
Draw me a guard-rail
And I'll drown till I swim
Force beyond the distance
To the strain of all
Cover up the portrait
And abandon the call
A tablet that was broken
And a temple to blind
Dark is the mountain of love
I find
you and i
don't put the future in a box
of disappointments
happiness isn't a package you can save
for a rainy day
don't reassure yourself with a handful
of worries
you can't trust your head to know
the way
look at your life as a murmur
of waters
rolling along toward the close
of the day
the trees and the banks rim the shores
of time
tranquility chaos divergent paths but
one way
i'll find you again at the end
of the rivers
i'll find you again on the ocean
gray
until then i'll dream of a girl
with flowers
waiting at the western edge to wash our tears
away
of disappointments
happiness isn't a package you can save
for a rainy day
don't reassure yourself with a handful
of worries
you can't trust your head to know
the way
look at your life as a murmur
of waters
rolling along toward the close
of the day
the trees and the banks rim the shores
of time
tranquility chaos divergent paths but
one way
i'll find you again at the end
of the rivers
i'll find you again on the ocean
gray
until then i'll dream of a girl
with flowers
waiting at the western edge to wash our tears
away
Possession
Tell me all the petty revelations that you exalt to own,
Poor broken mirror, so proud to catch a fragment of my form,
Portray the smile on my mouth, but miss the sneer within my eyes,
And wonder when I throw you out if all you knew were lies.
Your pieces never could construct my outer whole,
How then could you presume to know the secrets of my soul,
If all you were before your fall was a common ornament,
And I a god, and the likeness of god, and out of heaven sent?
So dry your shards you silvery wreck,
And let me hold you close.
Possession is a better truth
Than any empty boast.
Poor broken mirror, so proud to catch a fragment of my form,
Portray the smile on my mouth, but miss the sneer within my eyes,
And wonder when I throw you out if all you knew were lies.
Your pieces never could construct my outer whole,
How then could you presume to know the secrets of my soul,
If all you were before your fall was a common ornament,
And I a god, and the likeness of god, and out of heaven sent?
So dry your shards you silvery wreck,
And let me hold you close.
Possession is a better truth
Than any empty boast.
Here live our white souls and black demons.
In secret places,
Stored away, hidden with care,
Not to show, like gaudy ornaments,
Whispered subtly on the breath,
In the air.
In empty places,
Shut up, boarded, locked away,
Dark rooms lacking all embellishments,
Reeking still of lonely death,
Eyes turned gray.
Stored away, hidden with care,
Not to show, like gaudy ornaments,
Whispered subtly on the breath,
In the air.
In empty places,
Shut up, boarded, locked away,
Dark rooms lacking all embellishments,
Reeking still of lonely death,
Eyes turned gray.
A Beginning Poem
Greetings, fellows Muse-wrecked;
Might our images here recline
And all our fleeting shadows mate
As dusty words give birth to rhyme:
As Zeus, Olympus' crown with pealing thunder blasts,
Or Philomel, abject with swallow song, Tiresias enthralls;
Would then that Dream, the bane of artists deserts cast,
Or Thanatos raise its dreaded head o'er the sea of Genesis...
May we, in worded orgies thus compete
To try at last which stands supreme:
Wilt be prophetic Melancholy in his loathsome train?
Or vain Delight and Mirth that in their pleasures teem?
I know not, I confess, but this the merit be:
That out the crafting of such foolery,
One line might capture generations unto poetry,
Inspiring thus, to be inscribed within eternity.
Might our images here recline
And all our fleeting shadows mate
As dusty words give birth to rhyme:
As Zeus, Olympus' crown with pealing thunder blasts,
Or Philomel, abject with swallow song, Tiresias enthralls;
Would then that Dream, the bane of artists deserts cast,
Or Thanatos raise its dreaded head o'er the sea of Genesis...
May we, in worded orgies thus compete
To try at last which stands supreme:
Wilt be prophetic Melancholy in his loathsome train?
Or vain Delight and Mirth that in their pleasures teem?
I know not, I confess, but this the merit be:
That out the crafting of such foolery,
One line might capture generations unto poetry,
Inspiring thus, to be inscribed within eternity.
On the Occasion of Losing Things
I was trying to solve a puzzle that they said would save my soul
But I lost some pieces along the way; now I cannot make it whole.
If I could but remember, I'd craft them all anew
But the Puzzle-Master comes too soon and I have other things to do.
I was climbing mount Vesuvius and my friends, they cheered me on,
Spoke of glory that awaited——wept bitterly at my fall.
As I stood ten-thousand feet above the throng below
There saw I Abora in the clouds and the Shaper moving slow.
But I lost some pieces along the way; now I cannot make it whole.
If I could but remember, I'd craft them all anew
But the Puzzle-Master comes too soon and I have other things to do.
I was climbing mount Vesuvius and my friends, they cheered me on,
Spoke of glory that awaited——wept bitterly at my fall.
As I stood ten-thousand feet above the throng below
There saw I Abora in the clouds and the Shaper moving slow.
April 17, 2007
The flags grow weary of trying to fly with lesser wind than they were provided yesterday:
Half-masted and left to droop and flutter, frail emblems of great ideas,
Grand entourage of a larger scheme of faith in the imaginary, hope in a vapor.
The first family wept. The second family wept. The third family wept...
My friend wept for them all. They called it a tragedy, a catastrophe, a massacre.
My better friend wore a hat like a legionnaire's shield, guarding not just eyes
But a face flushed by recent tears——didn't notice the flags or the books
As she walked into a library to be alone. Sometimes
The death of a dream is sadder than the death of a person far far away.
London would be so nice that time of year: rain leaping off newborn primula,
Bouncing down the canopies of sidewalk shops, and rattling down dark gutters.
People in old-fashioned suits and new-fashioned dresses, all with umbrellas,
And most with gloves, not rushing (god forbid), just hurrying with dainty steps
Across puddles and rivulets. Then the next morning the glow of the east
Would shine through white laced curtains, to rest warmly on two forms clasped
In the sleepy waking remonstrance of true love.
And I know, yes I do, that somewhere an old old soul shivers, wrapped only in a plastic bag,
While a rat eats the scraps he traded for a blissful, torturous death.
And I know, yes I know, that somewhere a child is running across hot golden sand,
His left arm a half-mile away, and the freedom fighters close on his trail.
And I know, yes I do, that somewhere a little girl is staring blankly
At the shadowy form who just raped and beat her again (they call these shadows "father").
And I know that there are thousands thousands, thousands thousands,
And the world continues, unchecked, unhindered, a chaos of all things,
And we have lived and died, laughed, cried,
If only to know that it is not all people killing people or dreams dying,
But, like a crude usher to an unfamiliar scene, it leads us onward through the birth pangs of existence
And teaches us——oh, the sorrow! but oh, the joy! of life.
[April 16, 2007 was the date of the Virginia Tech massacre in which 32 people were killed and many others wounded. This poem was written the evening of April 17.]
Half-masted and left to droop and flutter, frail emblems of great ideas,
Grand entourage of a larger scheme of faith in the imaginary, hope in a vapor.
The first family wept. The second family wept. The third family wept...
My friend wept for them all. They called it a tragedy, a catastrophe, a massacre.
My better friend wore a hat like a legionnaire's shield, guarding not just eyes
But a face flushed by recent tears——didn't notice the flags or the books
As she walked into a library to be alone. Sometimes
The death of a dream is sadder than the death of a person far far away.
London would be so nice that time of year: rain leaping off newborn primula,
Bouncing down the canopies of sidewalk shops, and rattling down dark gutters.
People in old-fashioned suits and new-fashioned dresses, all with umbrellas,
And most with gloves, not rushing (god forbid), just hurrying with dainty steps
Across puddles and rivulets. Then the next morning the glow of the east
Would shine through white laced curtains, to rest warmly on two forms clasped
In the sleepy waking remonstrance of true love.
And I know, yes I do, that somewhere an old old soul shivers, wrapped only in a plastic bag,
While a rat eats the scraps he traded for a blissful, torturous death.
And I know, yes I know, that somewhere a child is running across hot golden sand,
His left arm a half-mile away, and the freedom fighters close on his trail.
And I know, yes I do, that somewhere a little girl is staring blankly
At the shadowy form who just raped and beat her again (they call these shadows "father").
And I know that there are thousands thousands, thousands thousands,
And the world continues, unchecked, unhindered, a chaos of all things,
And we have lived and died, laughed, cried,
If only to know that it is not all people killing people or dreams dying,
But, like a crude usher to an unfamiliar scene, it leads us onward through the birth pangs of existence
And teaches us——oh, the sorrow! but oh, the joy! of life.
[April 16, 2007 was the date of the Virginia Tech massacre in which 32 people were killed and many others wounded. This poem was written the evening of April 17.]
Wonder and the Gods
I. Wonder
whose wide eyes once looked
and eager hearts partook
from every mediocre toy
derived astonished joy
sufficient vocation was to play
years of life within a day
love was a smile
and every other being a child...
II. and the Gods
heroes lived everywhere
on baseball cards
in batman's lair
and that one ninth-grader
was an NBA star player
aliens soldiers and robots
models missiles and astronauts...
whose wide eyes once looked
and eager hearts partook
from every mediocre toy
derived astonished joy
sufficient vocation was to play
years of life within a day
love was a smile
and every other being a child...
II. and the Gods
heroes lived everywhere
on baseball cards
in batman's lair
and that one ninth-grader
was an NBA star player
aliens soldiers and robots
models missiles and astronauts...
a midnight stroll
walking aimlessly with an old friend
first down a foreign alleyway
past lit second-story windows of apartments
curious who is busy doing what within
the orange-lit fog pecking at my cheeks
lips mouthing words I'll never remember
thoughts quickly passing, unrelenting
a billboard and a ragged evergreen
the swift echo of a car on a main street
emptiness and stillness expanding by the minute
the world slowing down to sleep
stepping softly, so as not to disturb the night
thinking of a girl I've never met
and of childhood memories I never had
my life, such as it has been
a collision without meaning or result
Death whispers, "It all passes soon."
I whisper back, "I'm the one toting the cigarette."
first down a foreign alleyway
past lit second-story windows of apartments
curious who is busy doing what within
the orange-lit fog pecking at my cheeks
lips mouthing words I'll never remember
thoughts quickly passing, unrelenting
a billboard and a ragged evergreen
the swift echo of a car on a main street
emptiness and stillness expanding by the minute
the world slowing down to sleep
stepping softly, so as not to disturb the night
thinking of a girl I've never met
and of childhood memories I never had
my life, such as it has been
a collision without meaning or result
Death whispers, "It all passes soon."
I whisper back, "I'm the one toting the cigarette."
Soliloquy
"In a June garden, long ago
"Driven by passions I could not comprehend
"In visions I ravaged you
"While we walked, gloved hand in hand."
But those stone steps have born others.
Who else has tread them? What father,
What brother, what son of mine?
"It was a casual, oblivious day I first met you,
"Like a petal on a tree meeting rain.
"Nothing said, nor remembered——
"I cannot so much place it now."
Have I drunk the living water?
Water of life unending, have I drunk?
Did you lead me, deceive me, redeem me?
"I was a peaceful, quite man.
"You called me kind, and you yearned for my return.
"Days I could not sleep, you held me;
"Nights I could not dream, you laid me down."
Now I am nothing but regret and knowledge.
I am opened and closed, and my eyes
Are in my head, but my tears
Are on the road.
"Driven by passions I could not comprehend
"In visions I ravaged you
"While we walked, gloved hand in hand."
But those stone steps have born others.
Who else has tread them? What father,
What brother, what son of mine?
"It was a casual, oblivious day I first met you,
"Like a petal on a tree meeting rain.
"Nothing said, nor remembered——
"I cannot so much place it now."
Have I drunk the living water?
Water of life unending, have I drunk?
Did you lead me, deceive me, redeem me?
"I was a peaceful, quite man.
"You called me kind, and you yearned for my return.
"Days I could not sleep, you held me;
"Nights I could not dream, you laid me down."
Now I am nothing but regret and knowledge.
I am opened and closed, and my eyes
Are in my head, but my tears
Are on the road.
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