# Poetry



## Luminosity

Ok this isnt my OWN poetry ( I only WISH it was lol ) .... some of my poetry is on my personal site , under 'Musings' if ya wanted to peek at it.... 
THIS , however , is something that made my heart warm and squishy-like when I heard it for the first time .....some of you may be familiar with it .....

*He wishes for the cloths of heaven *

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

	-- William Butler Yeats

I think , with a few poetic souls that appear to be on this site , that we need a lil thread for poetry .... sooooo guys & girls .... if you have any poetry of your own you wanna share with us ..  ....feel free to post it here .. :sillysmi:


----------



## Sharkbait

One of my favorites, by Blake...


*The Garden of Love*
___________________________________________
I went to the Garden of Love
and saw what I ne'er had seen
A chapel was built in the midst
where I used to play on the green

But the gates of this chapel were shut
and 'Thou shalt not' writ o'er the door
So I turned the Garden of Love
that so many sweet flowers bore

And I saw it was filled with graves
and tombstones where flowers should be
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds
and binding with briars my joys and desires.


----------



## Luminosity

I really like that one Sharkman...  :love:


----------



## terri

Must we post only pure poetry?   Or is poetry set to music, like...song lyrics, okay?


----------



## Tammy

Thanks Luminosity    


*The Game*

We had a squirrel once. 

She would take a peanut from our hands 
to hide it in a pile of peanuts. 

It was a simple game 
- and we loved her for it. 

Father played the game too, 
but he played it differently. 
It took years for us to see that something was missing. 
We waded through piles of men; 
he was hiding somewhere else. 





This is one of my favorites:

*Troubled Woman*

She stands
In the quiet darkness,
This troubled woman
Bowed by
Weariness and pain
Like an 
Autumn flower
In the frozen rain,
Like a
Wind-blown autumn flower
That never lifts its head
Again.

~

by Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

from [ame=http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/stores/detail/-/books/0679764089/glance/103-6045775-8307862/poemonline/103-6045775-8307862]_The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes_[/ame]
by Langston Hughes, edited by Arnold Rampersad and David Roessel






> Must we post only pure poetry? Or is poetry set to music, like...song lyrics, okay


... I'm not sure what Luminosity had in mind, but I'd love to see your lyrics.


----------



## motcon

i'm a concretist, but the romanticism is there.....

you just have to think.

and feel.

______________________________________

autumn leaves


once in a while
i want bad coffee
semi-sweet
burnt mocha 
dotted with curdled expired cream
          once in a while
to remind me of those days
before the 
albino fawn
spotted chocolate
in sugar rain
                                           -WFC
_____________________________________


----------



## carlita

*sigh*  ^^^this is why i miss him so much.   :cry:  :sad anim:


----------



## Luminosity

terri said:
			
		

> Must we post only pure poetry?   Or is poetry set to music, like...song lyrics, okay?



Ya betcha Terri ( meanin yes lol ) ! Any sorta passage , be it poetry , song lyrics , limericks ( for the leprechauns amongst us  ) etc ...

That squirrel poem took a turn I wasnt expecting ... its like the squirrel is more of a family member .... was THERE for the family in a way... when the father wasnt. Thats my angle on it , someone else could see a different perspective but thats the sign of good poetry . Second one is good too.
Lol the bad coffee one is great, Motcon !  :sillysmi:


----------



## Karalee

Its a bit rhymish... but short n sweet

You remind me of a single white rose
That gently waves in the breeze as it grows
You blossom and grow for all to see
A single white rose, so happy and free

-Unknown


----------



## motcon

carlita said:
			
		

> *sigh*  ^^^this is why i miss him so much.   :cry:  :sad anim:



just whistle, dahlin'.


----------



## Osmer_Toby

one of my all time favorites (both the poem and the poet):

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

                                                             e e cummings


----------



## captain-spanky

here's a couple...

_here it is, another week, another boring day 
where's the sun and all the fun, i wanna go and play 

I'm stuck inside, trapped in work, sitting on the forum 
i wanna be out, without a doubt, away from all this boredom 

At the beach, down at the pod, i wanna real long cruise 
5000 revs the tacho says that'll kill the blues 

an open road, a bitchin' dub and sun is all i need 
c'mon boss, i wanna day off, don't make me beg and plead 

if she said yeah, i'd be gone and out, I'm a driver thru and thru 
I'm like the others, i'm just a dubber, this is what i do! 

I sit in fields, i grill some snags, i go to lots of shows 
i listen to punk 'n' get real drunk and take some crap photos 

watch the racing, buy some cr*p, a weekend with nowt to do 
'cept chillout with friends on a day with no end.... i can't wait. Can you?_

and an ode to my cat.
_my cat is sat
on the mat
and i've just stood
where he just shat._


----------



## carlita

*The Day Lady Died*
FRANK OHARA

It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I dont know the people who will feed me

I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in Ghana are doing these days

I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)
doesnt even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or
Brendan Behans new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I dont, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness

and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it

and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing

*************************************************************
that's always been one of my favorites.  it helps that i love billie holiday i guess.    that last stanza though... gets me every time.  gives me chills and a bit of a lump in my throat.


----------



## manda

He wishes for the cloths of heaven
 is one of my alltime favourite poems, Lumi, with Yeats being one of my favourite poets.

I adore...this could have been written about me.
*
Mad Girl's Love Song*

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

_--Sylvia Plath_


----------



## captain-spanky

i like the one about the cat


----------



## Luminosity

manda said:
			
		

> He wishes for the cloths of heaven
> is one of my alltime favourite poems, Lumi, with Yeats being one of my favourite poets.



It is indeed beautiful  :sillysmi:  ....its inspired me to read more Yeats just from that one poem....

I really like that mad girl one too !   



			
				Carlita said:
			
		

> it helps that i love billie holiday i guess



Billie !!!  :love:


----------



## voodoocat

Moved this over to the creative corner to get things going.


----------



## terri

Coolie!!!!!     

I'm glad this is here.....   you people rock!   


Mad Girl's Love Song is almost too painful to read....bu I love it.   :love:


----------



## MDowdey

ok, i dont share these with just anyone, so you must know i love you all

be gentle with me...


*A Piece On The Loss Of A Friend*

My love.
Where I place my heavy heart
Where the echoes of my laughter can be heard
Where my tears fall on your new white shirt.

If I had but one more day to whisper the words
To you, I would scream at the top of my lungs
Please dont take her, you have no right
But he doesnt listen, and youre already gone.

I place the roses, I weep the tears.
My hands cant feel anything, yet I fear.
Life alone and without salvation,
How I wish to be gone from this place.

I have changed for the worse, 
But the shell remains the same.
I cant bring myself to, 
Yell out your name.

Matthew


----------



## Osmer_Toby

wow.  the real matt dowdy has definitely stood up.  you have bared your soul here, dude.  takes a lot of courage...

as i said once before, my friend, yours is a beautiful soul;  the poem speaks very softly, but very distinctly, to your emotions.  many people will connect with your words- i did.

awesome piece, man.


----------



## MDowdey

thanks dude. it was originally part of a larger set of lyrics..go figure...


md


----------



## oriecat

This one was sent to me many moons ago, from a guy I met online:

_Something_

1.
Somebody skulking in the yard
stumbles against a stone, it stutters
across the dark boards of the night
and we know.  We know
he's there.  We kiss

anyway.  This
is not a pleasant story.

2.
And time loops like a woodbine
up into the branches
of new seasons, and two towns away
a man who can no longer bear his life
takes it, in the thick woods.

The police know.
And we now -- since no one tramples again
the grass outside our window --
he is our lonely brother,
our audience,
our vine-wrapped spirit of the forest who
grinned all night.

3.
Now you are dead too, and I, no longer young,
know what a kiss is worth.  Time
has made his pitch, the slow
speech that goes on and on, 
reasonable and bloodless.  Yet over
the bed of each of us moonlight
throws down her long hair until

one must have something.
Anything.  This
or that, or something else:
the dark wound
of watching.

~Mary Oliver


----------



## Luminosity

Yehawww ! I just realized a Creative Corner has been made *does the happy jig * ! :cheer:
VERY cool   :thumbsup:
On another note , Matt ...that poem bought tears to my eyes.
Thank you for sharing it.


----------



## Luminosity

What is she thinking about up there
Thinkin she's gonna steal the stars                                          
 Speaking a language
we might once have heard
in the warmth of sensuous moments.                                                           
Why is she so high up 
Waiting for the sun 
to kill the little monuments
Do they dance..
those lights in the midnight blue
The air is sad                                                                                   
                      souls drifting..                                          
                             mingling 
                                   as she dances..
on her riverbed of tears
She knows all too well...
that one can never possess
anything beautiful for an eternity
Not even the night.


----------



## Mitica100

I heard this Apache Wedding Prayer recently:

                Now you will feel no rain,
		For each of you will be shelter to the other.
	Now you will feel no cold,
		For each of you will be warmth to the other.
	Now there is no more loneliness,
		For each of you will be companion to the other.
	Now you are two bodies,
		But there is only one life before you.
	Go now to your dwelling place
		To enter into the days of your togetherness
	And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

I felt it was beautiful!...


----------



## Luminosity

It IS beautiful ! 
Loves it when I'm at weddings and someone reads out a passage like the one you just posted ,Mitica. 
To me ....It feels warmer , more personal and special then your standard " love , honour and obey ' type of deal....


----------



## manda

That is beautiful Matthew.
So honest and heart felt.
PLease share more.


----------



## terri

So far, I've gotten choked up every time I've come here.   

This is awful.  

This is lovely.    :love:


----------



## photobug

Great stuff guys, but it's gettin' a little maudlin in here. So, here's something I slapped together some time ago in the midst of a forum tif on another board.

my skin is thin
a Po M
by Bimjo
****************
my skin is thin
it keeps me in
but it don't 
keep others out

why this is
I cannot wiz
wish I could
no doubt

stick and stone
they make me groan
and turn all
technicolor'd

but a poor turned word
like a shot in the herd
stampedes my ego
uncover'd

I sniff, I cry
I just wanna die
well....  ummm
maybe later

life is short
make me snort
laughing truly
is greater

my skin is thin
it keeps me in
but it don't 
keep others out....


----------



## drlynn

Wow, so much talent on this board.  So many word-crafters around, makes the rest of us afraid to make a sentence.  

Bravo, everyone! Let's see more.

I'd post, but all my best works are limericks.


----------



## Linscott

Overheard in Portland Oregon 11 May, 2003  "Quit your cryin,
         act like a man."
    =======================================================================



    So he acted like a Man,

    for the rest of his life he


             acting.

                       like.

                                 a man.



    Taught his kids,
    with a razor strop

    his wife,
    with the back of a hand.


    Never understood
    why

               he lost
                        his children

                                  wife,

        called
                    a gutter home

                             a wino friend.


    Never understood    
    Never understood


             acting.

                       like.

                                 a man.


----------



## Tammy

Still

It's been twenty-two years and still 
he warms to my touch,
to the sight of my flesh,
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp        and I to his;

but, in those still moments:
when I am alone, in a line,
or on the verge of sleep
it is you;
&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp        it is always you.


----------



## Alyssajns24

This forum is like heaven to me... Photography and poetry all in one place???Its just too good to be true!!! LOL

Joshua

The crowd gathers
While the little boy lay
In the middle of The street, 
as he cries for mommy!
No one can move
As he takes his last 
Breath,
And everyone stares 
Blankly at death!

They all turn away
When the boy is taken.
Everyone scared, and
Everyone shaken.

They all wanted to help,
But all they could do
Was stand in fear.
Not a one of them
could even get near.

His mother couldn't 
Understand everyones craze
As she stand there,
Screaming in rage.

Then it hits her!
No one wanted to help 
someone with AIDS.

Copyright 2004 Danielle Danford


----------



## Scott WRG Editor

*Obliteration*
Written in 1994 

_
My dreams were destroyed, 
All hope was shattered, 
The pieces arrayed around me, 
As if they ever mattered. 

My mind rallies, 
It's sense badely bruised, 
Reassembling its pieces, 
They appear hardly used. 

But now they are gone, 
Destroyed once more, 
I stand in confusion, 
My soul's corpse on the floor. 

There's a figure in the distance, 
Hatred fills every pore, 
A river between us, 
A mirror on the opposite shore. 
_------------------------------------------ 
As you can see a, 1994 was not a good year.


----------



## DarkEyes

Here's my first try:
(Sorry if it seem's a little pessimistic)

*Helpless*

What is life worth
With the world at war
Fighting, killing, dying
Too many people crying.

With a lust for Power
Nations try to Conquer
Lust, Obsession, Greed
Growing like an Immortal weed.

Through all of this
No sign of god
Fear, Hunger, Desperation
Without any hope of salvation.

*© 2004 Terence Doust*


----------



## DarkEyes

Anyone :?: 

Its not that bad is it? :scratch:


----------



## photogoddess

I woke with your kiss lingering on my lips. But was it just a dream? Sleep come take me again until your lips touch mine. Longing so sweet Longing so sad. Leaving an emptiness that I just cant describe. A sadness so complete.

I understand all of the things in my life. Everything except you. 
The empty void is alike an ache that gets tighter and stronger everyday. 
One minute you care, the next. I cant tell. Why cant you just tell me? 
Is it because you really dont care? Or is it because of the void inside of you?


----------



## Karalee

From the pitts of my teen years.

_I sit and wait
Anticipate
What is yet to come?
And all along my heart -
It lays in the same place as it always has been
The only thing with courtesy
The only one with charm
And when I'm twisted with impatience
My heart - it just stays calm
Central to my needs
Its serene and Content ways
Overwhelms and overrieds
Picks me up, places me down, lost inside a daze
_


----------



## Floyd

Stillness 

Part One  To Those Who Think and Move 


Here it is. 
Here is your life, 
The Technicolor swirl. 
Youre standing in it, youre moving with it, 
At least youre trying to, as it moves around you; 
Its moving faster than you and its like an acid trip. 
No Marijuana, 
No Artane-induced psychosis, 
No MDMA, 
No Amphetamine, 
No peyote, 
No amyl nitrite; just the ketamine simulation of reality. 
No matrix here, nothing to be seen nor told 
which you cant already fathom; 
Providing you have the wits. 
This motor-****er has been slowed down, 
This motherfucker doesnt know where to look. 
So he looks to himself helping discover something beautiful. 
Instead he discovers himself. 
Have you found yourself? 
Have you found Jesus? 
No, and Im not looking! 
Moloch to the sky, 
Moloch to the end, 
Let it burn. 
Moloch, not the literal, 
Moloch of the feeling; 
Feelings to the contextual; 
Context is the ride, 
And the ride is life. 
Life, 
Cant we liven it up? 
I want, 
To break it up, 
To smash it into pieces, 
Not to analyse. 
Not to rebuild. 
Not for vengeance. 
Not for you. 
Not for the remedial. 
Not for catharticism. 
Not for the sake of destruction, 
nor the fires of Moloch. 
Not for my darling Ginsberg. 
For the sake of feeling itself, 
Living. 
Give me convenience or give me death, scream the capitalists; 
Kill the poor, echo the poor, mocking the rich with their taunt. 
Life, its not effervescent, 
Its not bubbling, 
Its not moving. 
Its contained, 
Contained to a mind, 
Contained from others who wouldnt understand, 
Contained to a body, 
Contained to a house, 
Contained to a vessel, 
Contained to a planet, 
Stained in my mind. 
Stained in my mouth. 
The foul word, as classed by whom? 
Here it is. 
Here is the language, 
The soft **** you cling tightly to in your hand, 
In your mouth and at your keyboard. 
At your party. 
Were not moving but the tracks are getting longer, 
The journey getting farther, 
No movement since the last, 
No recollection for the past, 
No thought for the future. 
This is life, 
This is immediacy, 
Accomplishing for the immediate, 
Then death. 
Drink all the oil you want; 
It only poisons. 
This man has no thought, 
cept masturbatory self-congratulations. 
This man is bleeding oil, 
Hes nearly empty inside. 
This man is immortality and nothing, he is life and contradiction. 
Hes summation and beginning, 
So he dejects introspection, wanting to know other than himself, 
He looks outside, 
And sees himself, 
Bulldozing mountains of himself into shallow graves, 
Screaming blood and fury at himself for not being a humanist, 
Thumping his fist for the cause, till it bleeds and the cause is dead. 
He sees himself die, 
Killing himself. 
Have you found him yet? 
Have you recognized his face? 
No you havent; when will you recognize yourself? 
Will you see yourself in the light of day? 
No, because youre not looking. 
Bollocks, beams the cry 
Bollocks, scream the men. This is not enough; give me more than I deserve. 
Shovelling coal, they try to make the train move. 
Bollocks to the station, 
Bollocks to the blade, Im stepping off, 
Bollocks to the journey, Ive had enough. 
Bollocks to your mission, youre not going forward, 
Just swirling ever earthward. 
Earthward youre sinking down. 
Happy now? 
Progression is your aim, 
Possession is your crown, 
Sloppy **** your metal. 
Greed what brings you down, 
Happy in your downfall! 
Justice to the few, 
Power to the rightful, 
Insight to the peaceful, 
Blessings to the conservationist, 
Gag to the conversationist, 
Silence to the pointless. 
All I hear is silence, 
So Im stepping off the platform; 
My intention not to move after the action, 
Ipso facto my intention to be stationary. 
Let the train sink, 
Im concrete. 
Inactive not pro-active. 
Doing nothing does nothing reads the proverb; 
Exactly, I think; 
Let the stupid wipe themselves out, 
As they ride life and die early. 
Restrained to their minds, 
Restrained to repetition, 
Restrained to mortality. 
Ideas and words live on, but only for a second if theyre even spoken. 
Restrained by their bodies. 
Restrained by their group, 
Restrained in their might, 
Restrained by their busted fists. 
My hands intact I use them to my own accord, 
And satisfy myself and others; 
I break only the inconsequential and only out of accident or favour. 
I dont care for progression, 
But acceptance; 
Of not self, 
Of not external, 
Of not fabricated, 
Of not another, 
But acceptance of futility, 
Expectances of stupidity, 
and to shun the poorly taught ideas. 
I embrace the act of thinking, not the act of acting. 
I want not contentment, 
I want not complacency, 
I want not, 
But to die after life; 
Not immortality, 
Not the chase for frivolity, 
Not forever life, 
Not forever remembrance. 
I ask nothing, 
Not even that which I am given. 
I remain grateful for observation, 
And my second of life, 
My opportunity to stand aside and be persecuted. 
Your opportunity, 
To see, 
To hear, 
To be a non-participant, 
A conscientious objector. 
This is life and its your gift, 
This is life. Its for observation not destruction, 
Dont destroy the garden, its your gift. 
Moloch to the stupid, 
Thought to the slow, 
Stillness to the speeding, 
Contemplation to the active, 
Companionship to the lonely, 
Blindness to those whove seen too much and want to see no more. 
This is life; 
Dont try to push it forward. 
Accept. 


Part Two  To The Inactive 

You. 
You were young, 
You heard the communists speak, 
And you listened. 
You were young, 
You watched fathers bleed and learnt. 
You were young, 
You watched your boats leak, 
And learnt how to swim. 
You were young, 
You watched others fight and learnt to run. 
You were young, 
You were victimized for your sensitivity and learnt to read not brawl. 
You were young, 
And facilitated a personal preparation for a fight to come. 
You were young, 
When you made mistakes and learnt of another road. 
You watched the food disappear quickly and learnt to ration, 
Careful not careless you watched from the sidelines. 
Quiet, 
You became withdrawn. 
Private, 
you became alone. 
Alone, 
You wished to run with the crowd to sweat and laugh, 
Then you watched them fall from exhaustion. 
You were young, 
and you had energy, 
And used it to learn with vigour, 
To run alone. 
You were young, 
So you taught yourself to train. 
You were young, 
When you **** in your pants then learnt the toilet. 
You were young, 
When you learnt to live with humiliation. 
Young, 
when you took the first step. 
Young, 
You started to glow. 
Young you were needy, 
Needy to absorb. 
Young, 
You swung back and forth snatching up breath, 
Breath, 
Back and forth. 
Idea, 
Back and forth, 
In and out breath, 
In and out idea. 
Young, 
you learnt to listen. 
Young, 
You learnt to walk instead of run. 
Young, 
you were young when you learnt, 
do you remember? 

Part Three  For the Old and Inactive, by choice and not by 


You, 
You were old. 
You were old, 
When you learnt to stand instead of walk. 
You were old, 
when realization and truth came. 
You were old, 
when you learnt to not be bitter. 
You were old, 
When you watched your family die. 
You were old, 
When you watched your friends die. 
You were old, 
As you watched yourself die. 
You were old, 
when you learnt to forget. 
You were old, 
when you learnt not to learn, 
but absorb. 
Absorb, 
Accept 
Absorb, 
Back and forth, 
Accept back and forth. 
Breath, 
In. 
Absorb, 
In. 
Accept, 
In. 
Forget, 
Out. 
Hate, 
Out. 
Compassion, 
Ration. 
Old, 
You started to grow. 
Internal, 
You started to grow. 
Old, 
You stood still. 
Old, 
You held your breath. 
Movement, 
You stopped trying to push. 
Old, 
You started to expand. 
Old, 
You started to understand. 
Young, 
You shot from the hip. 
Old, 
You bit your lip. 
Old, 
Push for ability gave way to onset of reality. 
Young, 
You hated the tide, but moved with it. 
Old, 
You climbed out of the salt. 
Old, 
You went bald and accepted the Auld. 
Immobile in your youth, 
You failed to realize your gifts, 
Confined to thought, 
Locked in reflection. 
Unstable in yourself, 
You dreamt of balance, 
Confined to pattern, 
Locked in repetition. 
Through lack of choice, 
You saw with clarity, 
Sooner than others. 
With time you became grateful, 
That you couldnt 
Run the race. 
That you couldnt 
Taste the oil, 
Nor drink the toxin. 
Learning propaganda, 
Confined to wheelchairs, 
Locked in thought, 
You learnt to dissect 
And analyze. 
Young when you saw the truth, 
Auld when you forgot it. 
Auld when you forgot cultures and barriers. 
Young, 
You rejected your name. 
Auld, you forgot your name, 
Auld, you became peaceful, 
Dead, you become pieces. 
You treasured the gift. 
I treasure the gift. 
Here it is, 
This is life, 
And it wants you to expand. 
Dont push forward, 
I wont. 
Because theres no point to the end. 
The spear is blunt, 
Were incapable of a lift, 
Only capable of falling with force. 
Unless you stand still. 
Moloch to movement, 
Bollocks to Ginsberg and his peers, 
Moloch to the past, 
Bollocks to the movement, 
Moloch to the word, 
Im shutting up. 


Footnote to Stillness 


Inflicted, directed, reflected, insurrected and bow-legged. 
The thought can be weak, but the effect strong. 
Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! 
You happy little grot! 
Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! 
Let the lot rot. 
We love the rot! 
After all the thought and consideration; 
And countless mind revelations, 
Weve earned the rot. 
Let it rot, 
Let the maggots eat the decaying deity; 
Festering, feasting, 
Decomposition of flesh material! 
Maternal, meticulous, loving, gushing with movement! 
The ground takes us back. 
Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! 
The words were hot, the thought new, 
Now its all rot. 
Say goodbye to that you knew, 
Goodbye to the few who knew you. 
Time comes to a turn and the pessimists putrid prediction, 
Moves steadily in your direction. 
Inflicted, directed, reflected, insurrected and bow-legged. 
We come to a fall, 
a fall from thought and worry. 
Gratefully mortality yields, 
and frees you of thought. 
Grateful! Grateful! Grateful! 
Grateful! Grateful! Grateful! 
For the rot, grateful! 
For the moment, grateful! 
For the white-hot notion, grateful! 
The decay and emancipation of a thought, grateful! 
The casket, grateful! 
The ground, grateful! 
The body, null and void! 
The worms, grateful! 
The Earth, grateful for the process! 
Natural order, punched but grateful! 
Resurrected, resented, cross-infected, 
Intravenously fed it. 
The body can reject the system, 
The social order, 
Opposed to the natural decisive direction. 
Not something one is born into. 
But an offered, like death, 
A choice is always given, to a selection. 
Resurrected, thought always find shape, 
Best when in the form of grace, 
Not a vice-like embrace. 
No pushing, 
No violence, nothing consequential, 
No resentment, 
No lack of reflection. 
You can take the path that believes in the casket, 
To live for enjoyment, 
and for observation. 
Grateful! Grateful! Grateful! Grateful! 
Rot! Rot! Rot! Rot! 
The old masters rot! 
The apprentices rot! 
The buildings rot! 
Their gold will rot, 
And so will you; 
So be happy gentle grot. 
Bow-legged and shy, 
Pimply and pubescent you saw the rot, 
and gave-way, wisely. 
Haggard and decrepit, 
Festering without movement, 
Warmth and home was found in the rot. 
The soil, 
The body, 
All rot.


----------

