"I had a dream, which was not all a dream." ——Byron I dreamt I lost my living's vital breath, And every moment there was falling free Into the blank abyss of senseless death The least remaining part of what was me, As when a body naked to the harm Of frigid air relinquishes the fingers Before the hand, the hand before the arm, And so on, 'til the brain abandoned lingers. And long without my fragile happiness, But barely free of all the hate I'd known, I lived my final moment in perfect bliss—— I lived in love, in love and love alone; And, no machine for timing whatsoever, The moment lasted seemingly forever. ~
May the wind be gentle,
may the waves be calm,
and may every one of the elements
to our desire.
(translation from IN THE DARK at http://telescoper.wordpress.com)
I. Prelude How much do I wish Your half that's cod-fish Would give me just one chilly peck? Not half so much nearly As your she-dragon dearly I wish would breathe hot down my neck. II. Eyes of the Beholder I wish that you could wear my eyes as yours, And with contortions, bare before your glass, Examine with a long and lingering pass Each crack and crevice——all your naked pores; Observing every coiled inch of coarse And curly hair...each stroked and handled ass- et...tidbits licked and flicked...the dark pink gas Valve winking at the finger that taps, then bores. . . . . . For were you so to see your every part, With these two eyes so eager to record The paradise behind each teaseful blink, You'd see beyond the mere vanilla kink: You'd see what I in words could never impart: You'd see just how completely you're adored. III. Greed Up rocky Mt. Parnassus I did climb The charitable sisters nine to meet, To beg of them an alms of line and rhyme,—— A poet's lively mind and rhythmic feet. With kind reception they did welcome me And pitied me t'explain my bold request, Whereat to them I spoke, my love, of thee, Whose charms in verse should ever be imprest. Admiring my intention they did grant To me my gift. I yet remained, whereof They askt me why. I said, "Oh, please! I want To be an artist great as her, my love." At this annoyed, they reprimanded thus: "But, greedy Bud, you ask to much of us!" IV. On the Redundancy of the Phrase "Unconditional Love" Love is by nature unconditional. Love with conditions is not love at all. Happy Valentine's Day, Miss Mee.
They’re weird, they’re grotesque, and I love ‘em, From Cadmus Jones down through to Boris; And so, when I start thinking of ‘em I hear moaning and groaning in chorus. You see, on this day made for lovers We’re going to make love in the free way By shrouding ourselves under the covers And having a five-plus-a-three-way. ~
* The “Halloweenies” are seven eponymous characters featured in a set of six humorous poems written by Scott Emmons. Anyone who has a fondness for light verse will find a lot to admire in the poems of Scott Emmons, which are characterized by their slick wit, good-natured humor, sparkling wordplay, and fluent technique. Scott’s website is http://thedailyrhyme.com and the “Halloweenies” can be found at http://www.thedailyrhyme.com/?cat=35
Up and down The cluttered town "For Sale" signs hang stale; Yet, everywhere Dirt-lots of bare And ripped up soil Scar and spoil What once was green So some obscene Plywood estates With aluminum gates Can wait with signs that say "For Sale". ~
The hollow eyes, the empty eyes, Like marbles made of lead: No recognition, no replies: Neither alive nor dead. They blend into the city blocks Like mantises in the leaves, The owners of the eyes of rocks All lost within their griefs. The staring eyes, eyes cast upon Some private pain or dread: The eyes of those both here and gone: The eyes of the alive and dead. ~
I've heard some birdsongs sung by chatty birds That were not songs at all but spoken words: Sentences, phrases,——punctuated one Or two word hollers,——greetings, goodbyes, swears,—— Conversational tones between two pairs Neighboring side by side in nests home-spun. I've often found (it isn't hard to find) That many creatures have a thoughtful mind And seem to speak a speech, from verb to noun. It makes me think that with a primate's hands Some other animal in the desert sands Could well have built a pyramid or town. And every time that I sit down to eat A dinner heavy with another's meat, I choose then to forget that when it walked—— Or freely flew——or swam the open sea—— This creature, not too differently from me, Among its friends and fellows may have talked. ~
*I don’t speak German, but I love German classical music (classical music in general, actually), and this German word (sprechgesang) describes a technique in which a performer recites a poem in time, observing notated pitches; hence the term (and title) “sprechgesang” which means “spoken singing”. Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veUJxETj7-c is my favorite example of this technique.
I. Love, read to me some old haiku, Love, whisper it in my ear; Lean in so close so close are you I feel the breath I hear. II. Would that I could create for you some work, Some sprawling masterpiece of grand design—— A fire borne of inspiration's spark, Burning inferno-like and yet divine. I cannot do it. Yet, let me say (lest you In error doubt your powers as a muse): To write my poems for you I learnt (it's true) All that I know of verse, from Donne to Seuss. And when you find some artist born to create You'll draw from them their greatest works of art: The waterer of flow'rs that bloom elate, You are, in what you inspire, the greatest part. The artist blest who holds you holds the key To what without you would not——could not——be. III. Love, underneath the greenwood tree, Love, meet me there and lie with me Until the night should turn to day And sunshine light us where we lay. Love, underneath the greenwood tree, Love, lie down there and lie with me Until the day should sink to night, The moon and stars returnèd bright. Love, underneath the greenwood tree, Love, lie down there and lie with me. Until the sun and moon collide, Please lie with me astride, beside. ~
Don't like it? Don't smoke it. I like it. I toke it. It hurts me? That's fine. All vices Have prices: Your vices and mine. ~
If you live in Pawtucket, That scuzzy scum bucket, It's one sorry state that you're in. It's best to say "Fuck it.." Accepting the yuck: It Is better than living in Lynn. ~ This poem is an example of killing three birds with one stone. You know the best way of killing three birds with one stone? Smashing three small birds with one big stone. I learned that from Peter Griffin. I've seen him in Pawtucket many many times.
I. Free-range I wouldn't eat an animal (Not even just to try it) That fed on food that wasn't food—— That ate a junk food diet. If ever Martian carnivores Come to this earth to eat They'll find me lean yet savory—— A clean and healthy meat. II. To Your Health Don't be an udder fool: Drink milk! ~
I am, and shall be ever, One who pursues her. I cannot help but chase her Though I but lose her. I will not cease to chase her Until I have her. And I will be running always, Chasing forever. ~
When I doo see a monkies pigmie face, And marke therein the thought which it doth owne, And reade a wits awarenesse in its gaze, Ne doo I doubt we are from one roote growne; For there is much in mine owne image showne Such as I witnesse in the beast-lyke man; And it doth neede one glauncing looke alone To see such features common of a clan. It doth indeede require no lengthy scan To knowe the rabbit cousin to the hare, And he that looketh on the monkies plan Should thus perceive an hairie man is there. And he that doth this certaine truth rebut Is blinde or seeth him with eyes both shut. ~
Live to Tell I have with volume spoken my affection, And sung in verses seeking you to move, And vainly sought to gain, by your election, Those several charms which you do daily prove. I have with little skill writ imitations Showing both want of wit and want of school: They cast a light upon my limitations, And show myself to be a jest'ring fool. Yet all these doings would I do again If Time tripped backward and did them repeal; For when I think on you I can't refrain From finding language so to outspeak my zeal. For you, embarrassments though I'll amass, I'll stand before the world a braying ass. ~
The surest path to happiness Is to want what you can get; So, if it's raining cats and dogs, Then want to get soaking wet. I once was in great misery: I'd never felt so crappy; So I decided to want the pain, And it made me just so happy! ~
If you desire some stimulation I'll brew you a cup of tea; And if you desire some relaxation I'll make it caffeine-free. But spiked or not,——black, green, or Grey,—— No matter how it's took,—— Tea's best enjoyed on a rainy day In a threesome with a book. ~
It is my greatest fear, I think, That my pen should run out of ink. ~
If you could go back and see me in school, You'd see I was a nerd before it was cool. ~
She lacks your splendor, her that's made of glass, And looks you each new morning in the face. Though lovelier by far for all she has Than all the others of her depthless race, She wears her naught but pretty, shapely grace, And suffers greatly by too close compare; For though, like you, she has the perfect place For her every perfect feature——every hair—— The beauty of your spirit isn't there: Your greatest beauty's the one that can't be lent. But still, I want her (like I want you) bare; And (please don't take offense) it makes me pant, And finds me bashf'lly blushing up in red, To think of us all sharing in one bed. ~