Poetry

 

     The first poem I recall writing was when I was about 12 years old, called 'The Hospital'. I was criticized for this poem and didn't try it again for many years. I have been  inspired to write poetry by the lyrics of musicians, such as all the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Laura Nyro and many others. I am also fond of the poetry of Dylan Thomas, Arthur Rimbaud and the T.S. Eliot.

The Hospital

 

The ceiling is stable, or is it falling?

The gloves are white or are they black?

The lamp gives light or is it darkness?

The hall leads out or is it to death?

 

     I have been published several times and done readings at coffee shops and as entertainment for people in hospital.

     Being an avid reader of philosophy, religion and psychology, I have a proclivity for using the English language in an original and artistic way.  I have not spent much effort in disciplining myself in poetry, other than Haiku. Perhaps that is why I have not received or used opportunities for sharing my poetry as much as I'd like. Rather my initimate connection with words, and an overzealous imagination cause poems to flow out my naturally. I enjoy the freedom and plasticity inherent in weaving images and thoughts in poetry. Poetry is sometimes the finest was of communicating affection, beauty and wisdom.

 

 

 

Candy Kiss

 

 

The sprinkle of planets in sparkling space

Is a  powder I taste upon my lips

Softer than the flesh of wisdom

More powerful than a nuclear tip.

 

 

The burning stars and galloping galaxies

The desire of a Buddhist monk,

Inspired by a muttering of mouths,

A drop of wine and the saint is drunk.

 

 

Lip touches lip and scripture reels,

The symbol of the unity of void and touch,

A woman and a man in transient transit,

The kindness made matter means so much.

 

 

The lingering birth, the baby leaps

across the synapse of oral space.

A promise one can't help but keep

In webs of thought of virgin lace.

 

Memory is pulverized in time's pressure

A gold heart is vanity's bliss.

Thank you for an eternal message,

Conveyed in the convenant of a candy kiss.

 

 

Clams on Display

 

The fist squeezes the diamond breast,

And golden tears wash the room,

Windows of silver steam slam shut

In the breezy sunset.

 

In the haunted heavens sparrows fall,

Crashing like thunder on the forsaken street,

The pirates of poetry begging for

A few crumbs of wisdom.

 

Dancing corpses hide behind silence,

With leering mouths and leather tongues,

How can we forget gratitude for the tatters of paper,

That fill our mouths.

 

The tattooes of perverted vision,

On the screaming screens of Broadway,

Alcohol washes the brains of the damned musician

Whose trumpet shoots lemon wine.

 

 

A Piece of My Mind

August 98

 

The puzzle of science is forever in pieces.

 

And each piece is infinitely puzzling.

 

No-one has time for such puzzles except those who cannot control the wanderings

 

of the mind.

 

It is better not to have a mind than an unsolvable problem.

 

I looked into the mirror and the image said,

 

"Why do you have that puzzled look on your face?

 

    

 

Many Inner Roads

 

You have always been a dreamer. And you are still dreaming.

Smoke as much as you want, for death likes to hide.

Your secrets are vain.

Underneath your thought the mind knows not existence.

 

Share the money and the fast food.

It will be gone before you can catch your breath.

As far as sharing the essence of juice and foam, the innermost tree of fruit,

Sleep until some dull shock rocks the invisible body.

 

Rage and pity tear at your web of senses.

The connection to phantom voices is unavoidable.

Across the Indian ocean a mass of sexy cartoons threatens a world war.

It is eternal. It is in every heart.

This is the other reality of the sculpted dream.

 

If you look closely at the waves freely suffering as they shatter on the shore,

You might see something worth talking about.

You have a mouth and ears, so your voice creates an autoerotic illusion.

The Lord is sending the assembly of soldiers to the teeth of destruction.

 

One of these days your desire will be satisfied.

And then you will have the choice between woman and the extinct men.

Choose life and watch death in it's intriguing infinite disguise.

The examination is now finished and you have but one eternity to wait for some positive result.

 

May 2005

 

 

 

 

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The huge cat hears rain

John Lennon falls with the cloud.

Has left pools of tears.

 

3

 

The daily traffic

Funeral fit for a saint.

What a godless month!