Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category
Points McGillicutty was a whiskey drinkin’ fool is what most of ’em would say.
Not that Points cared none or listened to any of that tomfoolery bushwhackin’ nonsense.
No wonder he drank the whiskey is what I always tells ’em, what would you do,
comin’ in from the golf course and struck dead by lightnin’ bolts then brought
back to life again by different lightnin’ bolts –– hell –– no wonder ol’ Points is a
whiskey drinkin’ fool is what I tells ’em, and they shakes they head and shuffles off,
probly to they own whiskey hidden in the closets in they basements cuz I bet you
a c-note most of ’em is hippocritz that way ~ shows to go ya ~ lightnin’ juice ~
hell yeah ~ everybody need a taste sometimes ~ ain’t no excuse but it’s truth.
world. or worlds. or world. or worlds.
bafflement couch. sunshine calling. me.
everything. everything calling me. at once.
when I want to do ten things at the same time,
I stand in the middle of the room, and don’t
know. just don’t know. I am made of water.
I am made of air. with a little bit of fire.
a fire that sets me on fire in the wind.
the ground. is. somewhere. I don’t know.
. . . the thing of it is . . . the thing-a-ma-jig was missing,
and the Chevy went all tremolo like a brand new hobo
bumming-a-dime from Marilyn Monroe. You know,
we were up there in Kokomo . . . stranded at Denny’s,
ordering infinite coffee, losing all track of time,
and getting second rounds of “Moons Over My Hammy”
when Junior remembered the chewing gum trick,
because he saw it in that movie, you know, and hallelujah!
I hate to ponder it, but if that hadn’t worked we’d a probably
gone crazy . . . or worse!
Occluded vision into the future
hovering on the horizon
the sea sharing rain with
the ocean evaporating back
into the cloud
the circle continues and expands
The past Occluded by
the future occluded
by the past yet to be
we are spinning
inside of smoky shadows
we are appearing
out of Amber crystals
we see the stars flimsily
as we repeat unrecorded time
as we expand
through yet another universe
we see time flimsily
we see stars drift flimsily through
through the cornea
to the neuron
through the shimmy and shake
of the blood-cell-neuro-transmitter
where are we
inside the lightning bolt?
the electrical attraction?
the firing of the neuron we call ourselves?
first particles. then fire. then life.
after many star explosions.
after planet slowly cools.
after oceans settle in.
with fire inside.
and spirit inside.
and soul inside.
looking back where it came from.
particles. then fire. then life.
. . . or else waiting again, inside the soundwave, to hatch another elephant of sleepless emotion.
it was all a bunch of hoopla and hornswoggle if you ask me, but something was cooking
between these ears, in my so called brain, home of my so called mind,
(my mind that seldom minds me, seldom goes where I tell it to go, often goes where
I tell it not to go, but my mind will stray, away away)––
and so, malarky or no malarky, my neurons were having a party, and it was loud-loud-loud,
until someone called the cops, and I took another sleeping pill, to still the lava flow of the
downloading memory-options, and life-re-writes, and future-visions of where-to-be other than
here-and-now scenarios, taking a powder-room break while thinking even louder, yawning with a
shiver or, uh, mental-quiver of existential what’s-it-to-ya, and why-I-oughtta paradigms. . .
ahem. . .
as I was saying… the elephant of sleepless emotion hatched inside the lava-neurons spilling into the ocean,
around three in the morning…. and the next thing I remember another year went by. bye. buy.
lookin’ for my soul, oh, vagabond-buddha /
oh, hiawatha, wanna be with-ya /
which way, sistah / just call me mistah
starshine-superfly / don’t know why I jive
just stayin’ alive another day / another way
another sylvester-saint in the daisy-chain-
gang / cool-hand-luke no cahoots “what
we have here is failure-to-communicate”
whack––with a cane––ouch––down the hill,
bake me a cake / and put in a pill don’t
leave it in the rain don’t talk me out of
my imaginary pain / my imaginary pleasure
lookin’ for a leisure-suit at goodwill to
freak out my grrlfrien’ then-go-to-the-mall & buy some
bling-bling / wanna make her sing / so many
things get lost in the shuffle.