Monthly Archives: October 2003

‘Frozen’

This was scribbled quickly into me journal, and I think I know who and what inspired it but I’ve obviously taken a metaphor and run with it. Another in a long line of non-literal expressions of extreme conditions. This explanation is more obtuse than the poem. I’ll shut up now.

‘Frozen’

I.
Emptiness moans, like a foghorn on the Hudson.
My apartment is bare, red, brick walls and a cheap Oriental carpet.
I’ve sat so long that spiders are spinning lines in my hair.
That dog is barking again.

II.
Smiling, happy fools and sunshine, all transience and falsehood.
The grass is always greener in someone else’s garden.
Traffic, bills, the boss’s daughter- marriage, celibacy, and beer.
Death becomes you.

III.
Silence settles, like a wet blanket over troubled skies.
A beetle darts across the dust enshrouded carpet.
Motion is a fantasy, change a sick illusion, and time is just a broken child,
Crying in the dark.

‘She Dreams’

No comment. Go away.

‘She Dreams’

She dreams of rape
again
this one graphic
disturbing
I beg her not to share
but she must
so I listen
and cry

Stark description of
bestial torment
family watching
humiliation
a violent comedy
laughter

She dreams of rape
again
this one like all
the rest
I offer her my
sympathy
and put her back
to bed

‘Blues In Your Glass’

Just another hard luck story from the lonely side of town. *smirk* Actually, this is me preaching against the demon-alcohol. Sort of.

‘Blues In Your Glass’

the bar is crowded with
laughter and sobs
cheap whiskey, flat beer
and hard-luck stories
but your table is different
your tales are true

blues on the jukebox
blues in your glass
stubbled face and
worn-out shoes
your last 50 bucks
burn holes in your pocket
and memory is best
when drowning

the waitress hates you
and all your wasted friends
she waits in the back
for as long as possible
and you just can’t drink
without her

blues on the jukebox
blues in your glass
dim yellow lights and
heavy black smoke
you could get out of here
but you won’t
your last 50 bucks
is already spent

‘On The Boardwalk’

Must be another night out walking, probably in Santa Monica but it could be anywhere. *shrug*

‘On The Boardwalk’

an ignorant street hustler
  tells stories that con
  the tourists
he spins plates and does simple tricks
people gawp at him and
  throw him money
    change
      dollars
  into his jar
and they smile and stupid walk away
  to see the next
    performer
here on the boardwalk

‘Inspiration Means Breathing’

This eclectic piece came together from three distinct parts and it just sort of flowed together to form this single message, which I quite like despite the scattered delivery. The title (and last line) came from an interview with Allen Ginsberg, wherein he was describing his approach to poetry.

‘Inspiration Means Breathing’

Calm, secure in the Void,
  a breeze in the trees stirs memory;
I could have been a pillar,
  propping up your temple roof.
Our life is just a memory,
  that happened long ago.
"Sunday," she says, "we’ll catch a film."
Lonely eyes, lonely face;
She’s depressed and sitting on the couch.
  "Why won’t you comfort me?"
I try, I try.
Wisdom is caution?
  No, the winner is he who goes too far.
Challenge me, and I will rise;
  Inspiration means breathing.