the very heart of the crusade of pain
can't be another hitler
in those dark shades
that bleed away all the color
reduce these visions to black and white
I post-modern man all wary
staying away from drawing lines in the sand
or declaring anything permanent
for any length of time
refusing
to be a judge
in a court
of impossible standards
I oblivous stoic going thru my mundane day
MONKED AWAY from the masses
telling no one what I do
learning to listen
fishing for words
unknowingly illumating pages of my most sacred text
winning a little
finally
some days
in the bitter bloody war with ennui
no longer suspecting
there is more than is dreamt of in our philosophy
i am walking quietly along the waterline at the beach
behind out of nowhere
where there is no one
A SUCKER PUNCH !!!
BAM!!
RIGHT TEMPLE!!
STAGGERING
ain't
NOTHING
i can do
but
CLOSE MY EYES
accept the swoon
GO WITH THE FALL
i just seem to know
i CAN'T LOOK at MY ATTACKER
without dying
the creature's standing in the center
of an awesome crash
of lightening bolts
thousands
zig-zagging crazily down
out of the blue sky
striking
the beach and exploding
inside the firestorm of lightening strikes
I sense a master traveler
looking out at me
A BEING FROM CREATION
a horrifying creature
of SAVAGE GRACE
KNOW
the rough beast's*
time has come round
at last at last
there was no slouch
this creature stood tall and proud
my body became as dead to those around me
my thoughts blown wondrously throughout time and space
My name disappears from my head
I sense
the creature
does this
to tell me
it too
is seeking a name
i sensed
i would
have died
had it wanted
from then on my Pain seemed carefully measured
as if the creature
were only hurting me enough to drive me
mad enough
for the undreamt mission
gone baby gone for days
lost from body and soul
a corpse never so alive
they great they called THE COSMIC STING a seizure
keep me strapped down and drugged out
takes days and days to fully identify the obviously fictional
in my charged and cautious and exuberant
dream of dreaming
crawling back up into myself
I find I am filled with sensations of the sacred
dreaming of cosmic order
I worry my cravings for peace
are the residuals of a bout with mad
something the new med.'s
will push out of my head in a few weeks
maybe some mentat* chain will break and I'll write
my happy sappy
got over the depression
post-treatment tract
fret what if I am going to crash
and wake up baffled
by how I was ever
stupid and deluded enough
to put my faith
back in this system
hope
is the last thing we expect
to find in a voting booth
we've been burned before
we're all scarred up
shot up and jailed and abused and wasted
and you name it baby
still
I sense
inside us
a mighty roar
that will make them shit themselves and run
call me crazy whatever
I have been preparing
for this moment
all of my life*
yr words
will never hurt me again
I'm ready
to fight you
stick for stick
stone for stone
or
just
forgive
you
with a kiss
on the cheek
and a
welcome to the show
*phil collins
*again, the sacred Dune, which I read over and over, all of them... though I have never had the time or scratch to buy the latest ones... sadly enough.
* this has to be the most quoted poem in the world. I love this poet, and he was out there. I named my dear now lost kitty bums Mr. Yeats after him. I want the time to read his elaborate theory of the universe, which Dr. Lindsay, the class clown extrodainaire/the liberal sceptic saintished one/ somewhat awe inspiringly told the class, "Well if you read it, it does seem to make sense." He seemed startled by his own words and moved on quickly.
Mostly He was so funny. I have notes. At UT I learned that no matter where a good student is, they will learn and the teachers will appear. Dr. lindsay liked to make it out like he lived in mortal fear of actually once and for all boring a student to death. Ho. English prof.'s... my dog, what better buds!!!