The Place I Will Be When I Die
(02-07-99)

The creek
Ran down to the Olentangy
I suppose
Miles away

The trees were young
In the bed
I can see the shiny bark

The sun filtered through
But the little creek
Ran between cool treed hillsides

The hill on one side
Rose right from the creek side
Up to where the dead abandoned sheep
Moved back into the earth

The hill on the other
Rose slow
To just as high
Then a fence
Soy beans, corn or wheat or resting

I built dams
I needed a pool

The air
Of nakedness
Before erections
Before that sort of shame

I could run
Jiggle my hips
And breasts
In a dance that was only mine

I needed a pool

I needed to ask the water
To wait
For me
To have a place
To be

Play
Languorously in the pool

The water was cold
On my bare skin
Clear

Enough to
Pretend the shifting of shapes

Enough to
Become who I was
Not who I appeared to be
Supposed to be

When the end
Comes to me

You don’t have to do a thing

I will be there
The creek
Running to the Olentangy

My place to
Move back into the earth

Shifting shape again

Ideology Time

Were we lost at the beginning
With our lawyers courts and parties?

Washington saw it come
Lincoln suffered for it
The Roosevelts mastered it

Today’s ideas die
Un-nurtured by discussion
Suffocated by side picking

Invention’s technologies rules this day
Fed by lawyer’s patents

Bulled by giant green votes
Held by corporate mega-persons
With world sized megaphones

Company owned government
Populated with “three fifth”- persons
Voiceless voter-consumers
Slaved to speaking skulls

Moral courage to hear both sides
Nay three or four or multitudinous
Now nothing but old theory for old times

There is no time for speaking ideas
There is no time for hearing ideas
There is no time for reading ideas
We pass our time

Watching
Mouths wag polemics

Then watching
Mouths wag advertisements

Then we die

Video by David Crigger

Wars For The Numb
(01-21-91)

War is entertainment
We watch fake wars when there is no real war
When the real war starts we are riveted
Hypnotized…. “The real thing”

We send our children to die
To fill our emptiness with their bodies
To fill our empty TV evenings
To keep our newscasters heroic

We start a new war every twenty years
In case we run out of war stories
We must not run out of war stories
We must keep the numbness quiet

Oh War please entertain us
Keep us numb, we pray
If you abandon us
Our pain will be upon us

We must be entertained
We have a right to be entertained
Or the real war
Will rage un-numbed within us



#4•3

Our friendship is young
You open stuck windows

Your beauty threatens

But the air strengthens me
You are so kind

Rocking to the ancient
Wrinkled blues
Raspy slide jackknife

Closer
But yessss it's dangerous

DON'T STOP

Long deep black
But not black as it is long
Hair

Tangling pleasure
With unknowable shadow
Lurking patience

Long deep black years ago
There lived a monster boy
Who knew what hurt
Yessss and tears
For knowing
That the only answer
Is waiting and doing

Rocking to the ancient
Music of vibrating souls
Selves in contact tentative
As the days are both
Short and long

Time
Changing even the deepest
Wells

 

 


 

Wars For The Numb
(01-21-91)
War is entertainment
We watch fake wars when there is no real war
When the real war starts we are riveted
Hypnotized…. “The real thing”We send our children to die
To fill our emptiness with their bodies
To fill our empty TV evenings
To keep our newscasters heroicWe start a new war every twenty years
In case we run out of war stories
We must not run out of war stories
We must keep the numbness quietOh War please entertain us
Keep us numb, we pray
If you abandon us
Our pain will be upon usWe must be entertained
We have a right to be entertained
Or the real war
Will rage un-numbed within us

 

 

© 2013 POET'S MOUTH Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha