Poetry
by
Who
is the Lady in Stairway to Heaven? And other Q-and A
Recovery,
A Poem in Many Parts--
Perpetual
Motion of Synapses and Memory
With
all Geographic Changes, a Psychological Change must also Occur
Smoke
Signals, Reflections on the Movie
People’s
Paths (by Regina Rose LaMacchia)
Why
Do You Call?, also The Best Message, also Q- No A
An Irish man walked in with a fiddle
And had himself a drink
Then a fair lass got into the middle
And pushed him o'er the brink
'e said "Dear girl, you're between me and my Guinness,
So you better step out of the way,
But when I get to the bottom, When I get to the finish,
The I'll be yours to stay"
So 'e finished the pint and took to the lady
And they danced around the room
When the night was over, they were both so happy
Soon they were bride and groom
Many a year later they sat by the fire
As he played his cherry fiddle, he said
"I've seen many a lass, and been 'round for a while,
But I love the girl in the middle."
It takes a strong lass to split a man and his pint, but love is stronger than any alcohol.
-----
pale skin
impale
artistic minds corroded by conformity
twisted mental-pedophiles
clouding judgment
money
future
annexed souls
nudes, not nukes
karma
dharma
tearing thoughts apart
oblivion
ignoring original intentions
multi-racial kindred spirits
brought together by desire
swept into the cauldron
who knows what the night might bring
into the great unknown
variable
do the titans feel
emotions and fear
do comedy and tragedy
ought wei
the comedy of tragedy
or am I a materialist
do I care for my children
which will be better
god
what should I do
where shall I go
what should I believe
what fools we mortals be
-----
I wonder if it will be on the news
Probably not
If so, It will be buried
It would be page 13, not
"TONIGHT AT 10:
BOY AT LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL STABBED IN MOUTH"
Apathy affects us all. It is the most deadly of our
Diseases
Kill and grow and our government does nothing about our
Pain
Is a motivating factor. It motivates us to step into
Action
Reaction Karma
Dharma
Must be reestablished if we are to continue as we
Are
We going to kill ourselves, or will we live to see another day?
-----
Why do kids worry about money?
What is death?
Why can't I?
I can.
Why is lust?
Who is love?
Why does she have to go?
She must.
Why are addicts?
Why is hurt?
Why no cure?
Cure me.
Why is theft?
Who is rape?
Why is murder?
Suicide.
1+1=2...sometimes.
Breasts and egos grow and sag with time.
We all die.
So do our dogs.
Children are imperfect because their bliss ends.
-----
Zephaniah is a friend of mine
He writes of racism and people of his kind.
------
CHORUS: And your soul says "No Way"
But you want.
VERSE 1:
Lookin' through all the dreams inside your head
And lookin' over all the lovers from your past
Look at all the aspirations you once had
But you fucked up and now you come in last
{CHORUS}
VERSE 2:
Little girl see yourself inside your room
And remember him while you run around
Just remind yourself he'll be home soon
While you cry to yourself without the sound of his voice
{CHORUS}
BREAKDOWN SECTION:
And through the mist the chain is broken
Your breath is held, your thoughts unspoken
No way to run, to hide, no room
Then in your sickness, you love your doom
You look around; she's all you see
You try to think, but thoughts can't be
{TONE SHIFT}
VIOLENT INTERLUDE:
Is this really what you want?
Is this really what you need?
Why can't you come back to me?
Why is it that you must bleed?
{SHORT INSTRUMENTAL\SOLO SECTION}
VERSE 3:
Your poison tree has withered died and gone, decay
Yet you still long for that awful lie
But you live to see another day
Still when it hurts, you scream "Why, why, why?"
{CHORUS}
{'TRAIN-WRECK' END}
- - - - -
This is a song about addiction, whether it is narcotics,
people, food, or whatever. Your soul screams "NO", but you have that
incomprehensible desire. Here's to all suffering addicts, that they may find
the help they need. Je vous aimes.
-Dave
-----
Darkness
Breathing
Legs pumping faster and faster until they inevitably slow
I am taken back
And the anger, the rage, that she would dare say that
Colors of the room tinged with pink, just as you've told me they would be
But eventually the pink fades
I am left with no more anger, no more rage
Only the pain
That, too, will fade to a dull memory
All I want is your arms around me
Your kiss, your touch, soothes the most scarred soul
You are not here, but our tears fall together
Waiting
The morning will bring us to each other
-----
supple curves caress that which I cannot have
varying colors, textures, sounds, emotions
amusing and alluring
hidden, yet visible
words cease to exist
inhibitions falling away
I fear the loss of control
I want her
she comes closer
she is near
she is here
I reach to hold her
brush her hair from her face
I lean to kiss
her naked breast
warm in my hand
she arches back, offering herself to me
I partake of her body and soul
our bodies bathed in salty sweat
muscles quivering
time inconsistent
shifting
unconsciousness
lost in the moment
conclusions impossible
-----
the bowl filled with red, white, and blue
the red lights blink as the coffee pots brew
blonde women sit at the bar, writing
he asks what I've been up to: "nothing exciting"
-----
- - - - -
I stepped outside to see how I feel
Sat down on the steps and saw a drug deal
I was never so open when I got my 'fix'
It was always in private that I got my kicks
Some secluded park or dirty bedroom
were the places I acquired my doom
In addiction, an hour seems like forever
But it made me sneaky, deceptive, and clever
Inside the hot and cold rooms of the world
I threw down my money, and the joints, they were curled
Suck down some pills with some whisky or vodka
Or trip while I read a little Shakespeare or Kafka
- - - - -
Though resigned to a life of death
it was given up
at the drop of a hat
a ring of the phone
the thought of sex
the future unknown
At the massing, bug burly bears
embraced the young man
said "I love you"
"Don't worry"
"We're not judges"
"We're no jury"
they told him HIS story
He listened
He was impressed
- - -
- -
Watch
the phone
Sit
Watch
the phone
Get
some coffee
Watch
the phone
Play
music
Watch
the phone
Read
Watch
the phone
Use the restroom
Watch
the phone
Hide
in the bedroom
Watch
the phone
Wonder
why they don’t call
Watch
the phone
- - -
- -
He
sits in a grey fog playing guitar and talking to the daemons in his head.
Jacob and Robert Marley dance around him, their
chains swinging wildly in the air, jingling like coins in a purse.
They
asked him to join them.
They
invited him to join them.
They
taunted him to join them.
They
talked him into joining them.
- - - - -
When
he awoke he wondered why he had not left the night before, why he had not
stayed upstairs.
He
had gone upstairs before when his daemons had begun to sing, but he went back
downstairs to swing with them.
They
had not lied to him.
He
knew the terrors of going down, yet he joined them in the heat of that
hell.
He
awoke to that green smell infused in his pores, in his hair, in his clothes, in
his lungs.
He
showered to wash his memory clean of the night before.
He
lied to wash his face clean of the night before.
He
hoped to wash his soul clean of the night before.
He
begged to wash his slate clean.
He
could not wash his hands clean.
- - -
- -
He walked into the room sat down listened stood up and
took a coin in which he placed his lies.
He placed the coin in his pocket and could feel it burning his
flesh. He got on the plane and sat
there thinking about the coin. He entered the room and held up the coin as
a shield, as a mask. They gave him
another to wear around his neck, and the weight of it held him down. To them a medal of honor, to him only Hawthorne’s signature. He wore it like a tattoo, fearing the naked body would reveal the hole in
his chest, the emptiness, the lies, the fear.
He wears gloves now because his hands won’t come clean.
- - -
- -
Mediocrity
The
word burned in his head as he drove them to the bar.
Though his glass was free of spirits, his head was full of
daemons.
When
he went home, he continued the lie, but
he went back to work.
Soon,
he could stand the pain no longer.
He
took off the gloves and showed his stains to the world.
His
brothers took his hands and washed them for him.
What
he could not do alone, they as a group accomplished.
- - -
- -
Go to
a meeting
Listen
Share
Go to
coffee
Talk
Go
home
Sleep
Go to
school
Sleep
Go to work
Watch
Go to
a meeting
Listen
Share
The repetition
wore
Heavily
on him
They
began
Carrying
him
They
bid him farewell and he went to others, but it was still the same
He
never looked inside
They
looked for him
- - -
- -
They
started coming to his house so he stopped going home.
He
found a playmate and spent his time with her.
Soon,
he abandoned them altogether
He
took his things and went away, where others expected him, but he never called.
He
Isolated under the guise of self-preservation.
Really,
he was tired.
He
was tired of doing things that had long since stopped bringing him joy.
The
darkness creeped in and he wept often.
In
time, his eyes adjusted, and it didn’t seem so dim.
He
found a new circle and he allowed himself to become locked within it.
No
doors or windows, but also no corners to hide in.
He
found strength and security with them, and soon serenity, too.
God,
grant me the serenity
He
regrets not saying good-bye
To
accept the things I cannot change
If he
is brave
The
courage
He
can go back and make amends
To
change the things I can
But
he knows that what really matters
And
the wisdom
Is
his own peace of mind
To
know the difference
Knowing
they still love him.
-----
Perpetual fear creeps sadness longing want desire opiate results attraction alluring beauty fear sex heart mind soul love me kiss the small of my back fingers through wet hair chest bare the fan spins wildly from the ceiling the soft chill of evaporating sweat saliva rub touch hold collapse lust affection infatuation despair heard of sheep tripping consciousness conscience bathed want fear run rain heat ice stars are falling for me they rocket from their nests ignite in the atmosphere friction tension resentment rejection insecurity traction push away landing in a cataclysm forgotten words of forgiveness unable to forget memory remorse regret malice want hurt become evolve exit endgame out walk cry foreign freedom not wanted terror jail warden prisoner captive of the soft touch round security warm wet red frustration pain wait watch spot eye subtle mound hot thighs cold air walk away embrace blinding darkness blackness tres noir excavation exhume one year to the day chip shop life banished escape hide Friar Lawrence be one individual estate sale sold mine envy desire lust mined fragrant pull magnetic feral urges fear bail justification rationale paramount the undiscovered country perpetuity sannathana dharma ahimsa hamsa om tat sat drive out of the rain the butter melts out of habit the toast isn’t even warm exeunt.
-----
The cat perched quietly on the tin-can roof
Its fur being melted by the reflecting sun and heat of the mirrored surface upon which he sits
The birds pass by, blinded by the evidence of Apollo's grace
Charcoal embers setting feathers ablaze with the radiance of the god's glory and imposing presence
The Cheshire grins at Alice, returning home through the gauntlet of metallic beasts and no air conditioning while her leather seats chap and char, scar her skin, mar her complexion
Her hair shimmers as her sweat mixes with the expensive oils and perfumes used as mating calls, but still she is alone in returning home through the looking glass to a still empty house
Absorbing the eccentric patterns of energy given off by the capitalist dream as she watches the stock prices catapult catastrophically upward while the newsman anchorwoman reports another bombing in Northern Ireland
She changes the channel as her cat returns inside, now bald and sun burnt peeling scabs licking wounds blisters forming on his back in places he can't reach with his sandpaper, regardless of his contortionist ability
She is intrigued by his new hair style and pets him anyway, ignoring the screams of pain as she rubs his leper skin
She watches cartoons and ignores ridiculous warnings about the approaching Y2K and tornadoes and instead makes herself a drink to obliterate her fears
She returns to her sofa, unaffected by the feline corpse that is still bleeding on her floor from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head intended to end the pain, but instead causing the pain of a million years without form shape number awareness
Tired, she escapes to the security of her bedroom chamber to block out the scars of the world with her bed sheets
Comfortable upon her down mattress, she retreats to Dian's care
-----
And I watch as their heads bob
hair grey with age
But radiating life
Speaking a language
The native tongue of vivacity
Peter Pan syndrome
Telling the capitalistic demon, Hook, to back off
And allow life to the non-working
Those who have earned the right to
Return to the sandlot
Work-time is over
And naptime is fast approaching
But for now,
In these few moments of release
Between the chains and the sleep
Between the whips and sco