tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13015125171929020652024-03-08T08:34:50.867-10:00Joseph A. MillerUnwashed Poetry for the Unwashed MassesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-80806344628602067792016-04-04T11:08:00.001-10:002016-04-04T11:11:28.909-10:00It doesn't start with the<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zyklon-B.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Its
entrance into the world<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">is
quieter,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">and
of more obscure<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">provenance.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
is a whispered rumor,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">a
garbled retelling,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">a
fairy tale told in blood,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">a
story that ends in tears of rage and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">vengeance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
words of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">madness
are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">seared
into the budding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">neurons<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">like
a branding iron.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">They
are the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">rock-bottomed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">God
DAMNED<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Way.
It. Is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
the Way. It. Is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">says
that<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">every
hungry stomach,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">bloodied
soldier,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">stillborn
baby,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">withered
crop, and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">merciless
plague<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">arises
from THEIR evil magic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Filtered
through countless<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">wounded
minds <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">over
countless<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">wounded
centuries,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">the
skin of the Others<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">becomes
horrid and reptilian,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">their
rapacity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">bottomless,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">their
evil <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">unbounded,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">their
continued existence<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">unthinkable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
only when the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">rock-bottomed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">God
DAMNED<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Way.
It. Is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">finally
has its ultimate victory,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">only
at the end of the story,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">can
the good man <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">kiss
his sleeping two year-old,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">and
with a clear conscience <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">tell
himself that the bonfire of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">screaming
children<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">was
necessary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">to
protect her.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-41996761444329062502011-07-29T01:17:00.001-10:002011-07-29T01:20:38.022-10:00He is a sordid little god,unkempt,<br />
stinking,<br />
and unshaven,<br />
spitting and scratching as<br />
he shambles through streets ankle-deep in trash<br />
and dog shit,<br />
covered with scars<br />
of uncertain origin,<br />
and looking out at the world with yellowed crocodile eyes.<br />
He is the god of unanswered prayers<br />
and crumpled hopes, the god of<br />
"oh well"<br />
and "I'm sorry, we did all we could",<br />
the god of drawing the knife up the river<br />
(rather than across the stream),<br />
the god of "I can't make it stop"<br />
and "we're too late",<br />
a semi-toothless carnival worker/rodeo clown/pimp of a god,<br />
stubbing out lives<br />
like cigarette butts,<br />
and tearing dreams out of fools<br />
like a slaughterhouse worker<br />
gutting a pig carcass.<br />
He's not all shiny and pretty like the one<br />
that lives on Mt. Sinai,<br />
but he gives as well as he gets,<br />
and more often than not<br />
he kicks his cousin's ass without even breathing hard.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-82329969186607215962011-06-20T19:07:00.002-10:002011-06-20T19:14:35.196-10:00They waltzed in cold embrace,their forms slowly turning to ash<br />
as they mechanically twirled around<br />
the unseeing room, greyish-black<br />
<i>puffs</i><br />
falling from them<br />
like pieces of a dying glacier<br />
collapsing into the sea.<br />
Their silence held unspoken<br />
volumes,<br />
the ashen visages of the dancers<br />
remnants<br />
of warmer times,<br />
when what was hoped<br />
still outweighed<br />
what was known.<br />
Their bodies slowly<br />
broke apart<br />
with each unheard shift<br />
in rhythm,<br />
the scorch marks<br />
on the walls<br />
the only evidence<br />
now in view<br />
of vanished times<br />
and ancient lives.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-59344067857985129332011-02-23T01:46:00.002-10:002011-02-23T01:49:20.507-10:00The air itself was aliveand I looked with excited foreboding<br />
as the trees bowed in unexpected homage<br />
to the ancient master that was now<br />
aloft above them.<br />
The Presence glowed without light,<br />
was felt without sensation, and<br />
shouted without sound.<br />
It hovered in front of me,<br />
daring me to live,<br />
and insisting that I speak,<br />
with a command that was only mine<br />
to know.<br />
I stayed silent for seconds, minutes, years,<br />
centuries, eons,<br />
as all about me remained frozen<br />
in deathly joy.<br />
Then I broke the air itself, and said simply,<br />
"Show me."<br />
And I knew the unknowable.<br />
And I became numbers<br />
and dimension.<br />
And I saw non-being<br />
become being.<br />
And I lived in the maelstrom of<br />
stellar hellstorms,<br />
and stood exultant in the middle of<br />
the Sun,<br />
and swirled walls of<br />
galaxies with a casual gesture.<br />
And all that was,<br />
or had been,<br />
or would be<br />
thunder stormed by my transfixed sight<br />
faster than light speed<br />
and I lived all that had been lived<br />
in any world.<br />
And in that moment, and only<br />
for that moment,<br />
I was All.<br />
Trembling, shivering in the<br />
Antarctic Present,<br />
I then asked,<br />
"Why?"<br />
And every<br />
shrieking horror<br />
raped me, sneering as it did,<br />
and all the idiot suffering<br />
tore my face with<br />
razors,<br />
and every depth of pain<br />
became mine<br />
even as it was not mine.<br />
And in unhinged, lunatic rage, I roared<br />
at That Which Is<br />
<i>Fucking bastard!</i><br />
Inaudible weeping filled my ears,<br />
and unspoken words said,<br />
<i>There was no other way.</i><br />
And I felt it take my hand<br />
as if it had fallen to its knees<br />
to ask of me that which it had<br />
no right to ask.<br />
I said finally,<br />
"Will I remember?"<br />
The night sky said,<br />
<i>No</i>.<br />
But I was at peace,<br />
because I knew,<br />
somehow,<br />
as I was about to lose<br />
all that I had experienced,<br />
that such places as I had seen,<br />
are,<br />
and such times as I had witnessed,<br />
were,<br />
and<br />
that He and I<br />
were of the same body<br />
after all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-8159019299779362642011-01-15T18:34:00.027-10:002011-02-09T16:45:21.194-10:00The young one meanders on a journeyhe can see only in part,<br />
rising and falling in crazy-quilt fashion,<br />
restless to be more,<br />
if only he could know what more really was.<br />
He is a strong, thin reed of sinew,<br />
heart-breaking in his hopeless, aching desire<br />
to heal the ancient scars of an indifferent world.<br />
He burns with diamond-flash intensity,<br />
fierce young man's desire<br />
saturating his being.<br />
He bursts with fiery rhythms<br />
and raises his voice in songs<br />
that lift up his intense, wounded soul<br />
and wring it out like a dish rag.<br />
A gentle, naive love<br />
exultantly calls out<br />
from the core of his being,<br />
one that just wants to see<br />
simple kindness replace the<br />
blood-smeared brutality that leers at him, and one<br />
that will keep the creeping bitterness that is coiling<br />
around him at bay.<br />
He wants to be a hero,<br />
if only to reassure himself<br />
that he is at least as good as the others.<br />
The Old One looks from a safe distance as the young heart-man<br />
teeters on the cliff's edge, so strong, so unsure, so brave, and so mad,<br />
all at once.<br />
The tired, cynical old one has seen the last<br />
of his own boyish dreams<br />
boiled away by the heat of blind reality,<br />
and has begun to see<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">death's patiently waiting face taking shape. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In the young hero-in-aspiration he sees</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">all that was best in himself, long ago,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">before he opened his fingers and let it</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">trickle away.<br />
He delights in the young one's<br />
still-green, smiling exuberance,<br />
even though the smile masks<br />
darkened pathways of despair.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The Old One sees strength growing in counter-point</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">to his own body melting away, and a belief</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">in the possibility of change</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">where his has vanished.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The Old One throws ropes to the fledgling knight, </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">because it makes the Old One feel</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">that he still counts, and because he knows</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">that when the uncertain, beautiful young one</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">finally rises to be the equal of the vision he has<br />
for himself,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">the sight of it will remind him</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">that joy is not just for</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">children, and that life still has its<br />
occasional, battered triumphs.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-79256241311546091822010-10-28T00:19:00.001-10:002010-10-28T01:01:19.525-10:00If I had prayed with herin the garden while the others slept,<br />
or joined her on that storm-clouded hill<br />
as the one from Aramathea,<br />
immersed in the ocean trench of his grief,<br />
gently lowered the torn and bloodied corpse,<br />
or if I had risen up in the middle<br />
of the air as the joyous<br />
SHOUT<br />
echoed through skies witnessing<br />
the coming of the Kingdom,<br />
would she have<br />
seen past my formless heart,<br />
and kept me alive<br />
longer?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-44034882701097888292010-10-24T00:30:00.000-10:002010-10-24T00:30:26.813-10:00The grief must come in silence,so as not to arouse suspicion<br />
or call attention to<br />
your tiresome pathos<br />
and<br />
your faded drama queen sorrow.<br />
Bypassers must be kept in the dark,<br />
so there can be no audible sobs;<br />
that's for children<br />
and other people who are still<br />
unconcerned<br />
about<br />
their image.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-3929742610516290702010-10-06T20:59:00.003-10:002010-10-07T17:18:47.682-10:00I imagine a day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">when all of them are gathered</span></span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">in some place fragrant with</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">sweet flowers,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and everything is finally revealed,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">as we might show a child </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">the person holding the strings</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">on the marionette.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And many of them will nod knowingly,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">perhaps saying, "So THAT'S what that was",</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and others will bend their heads down and weep</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">softly, the grayish terrors finally falling from</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">their shoulders with a clattering racket.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And some will stare in shocked disbelief,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">as the world they drove themselves into</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">like a tent stake</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">crumbles beneath their feet. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And others</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">will laugh gleefully as they watch the</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">pained expressions of those</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">who were so sure that the marionette</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">was a real boy.</span></span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-44435017289941746222010-06-14T00:43:00.007-10:002010-06-14T01:45:09.920-10:00Even before it was visible<div>its brutal eagerness</div>made the unsuspecting earth shiver as<div>it cut through the ground's layers</div><div>like a thug carving open a mark.</div><div>It burst through the surface throwing</div><div>dense, thick wads of glutinous muck in all directions,</div><div>its metallic body spinning as it extended twenty</div><div>huge unfolding mechanical arms from its central drill.</div><div>A death camp sized searchlight emerged</div><div>from its top, rotating as if scanning</div><div>for escapees slated to be shoveled</div><div>directly into the oven.</div><div>A deep, iron-voiced roar emerged from its unseen throat,</div><div>and as it rotated its arms flung bricks of sharpened steel</div><div>with decapitating velocity.</div><div>Everyone else trembled in uncomprehending</div><div>terror,</div><div>clinging to the wounded ground in panting desperation,</div><div>but he stood upright and walked in wonderment</div><div>right toward it, the projectiles cracking</div><div>by his ears delightfully, the light sweeping over him</div><div>in movie-premiere glory, </div><div>the deafening roar his sit-com theme music.</div><div>He smiled as he wondered whether it would</div><div>first caress his head or snuggle in his midsection,</div><div>laughing at the delicious moment that was carried</div><div>on the freezing night air.</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-68754478150454308682010-04-19T15:53:00.004-10:002010-04-19T16:20:45.257-10:00They sit on their respective ice floes,tethered to each other<br />by a rope bridge grown tattered<br />and strained,<br />but still hoping to remain in<br />hearing<br />seeing<br />and<br />touching distance,<br />never wanting to drift apart,<br />and face<br />the unseeable currents<br />on their own.<br />They know that they will never live<br />on each other's tiny islands,<br />but they will keep the rope bridge mended,<div>even if the reason they do so</div><div>will forever remain hidden from their view.<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-64376228668003460172010-04-18T11:33:00.004-10:002010-04-18T14:09:11.559-10:00He is forced to staybecause an abrupt departure<div>would be considered impolite,</div><div>indecorous,</div><div>bad form,</div><div>even hurtful</div><div>(in private ways) </div><div>to some of the onlookers.</div><div>So he stays,</div><div>frozen in amber</div><div>like a prehistoric insect,</div><div>mutedly visible,</div><div>accessible only to</div><div>the roughest of tools,</div><div>and destined to be a museum exhibit</div><div>of passing interest only.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-58592906284420530612010-03-21T01:50:00.012-10:002010-03-21T02:55:21.316-10:00The enormous, laughing womanrolled into the room <div>like a jovial boulder of</div><div>blubbering flesh, emanating waves</div><div>of saccharine good cheer</div><div>more insistent than the Great Boston</div><div>Molasses Explosion.</div><div>She oozed over to the black and white figure</div><div>slumped over in the unpainted wooden chair,</div><div>and bellowed in a tornado-siren voice,</div><div>"What's wrong, honey? You look flatter</div><div>than a roadkill possum!"</div><div>Not bothering to look at her, </div><div>he replied, almost inaudibly,</div><div>"I can't make the fear stop."</div><div>The gelatinous mass of femininity</div><div>next to him burst out in a good-natured</div><div>thunderclap and shouted,</div><div>"Well ain't that the shit!"</div><div>She wrapped a quivering mass</div><div>of friendly arm around his shoulders,</div><div>squeezed him like a Moon Pie,</div><div>and then snapped his neck like a Popsicle stick.</div><div>"Hope that helps, sugar," she chuckled.</div><div>Turning like a small planet rotating on its axis,</div><div>she exclaimed, to no one in particular,</div><div>"Some folks you just can't talk to,"</div><div>and orbited back out the doorway.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-42874453324195027492010-03-11T01:26:00.006-10:002010-03-11T02:05:59.022-10:00He stalks his preyamong the knife-edged rocks<div>of the bludgeoned landscape,</div><div>the circling pterosaurs screeching ravenously,</div><div>the death-gray sky stretched over him</div><div>like a rack victim.</div><div>Eyes brimming with formaldehyde, he zeroes in,</div><div>and the shotgun once again coughs out</div><div>its bored mutilation.</div><div>Trudging without interest through</div><div>the liquified remains,</div><div>he ignores</div><div>the satisfied cries of the reptiles</div><div>as they feast and gorge,</div><div>and rams two more shells</div><div>into the infinite chamber.</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-85324902428496243142010-03-06T12:00:00.006-10:002010-03-06T22:55:59.573-10:00There will be nojoyous reunion tears,<div>and no one will take the newly arrived pilgrim's</div><div>trembling, expectant hand.</div><div>The beatific visions will dissolve as the</div><div>movie screen</div><div>fades to black one last</div><div>irrevocable time.</div><div>No scores will be settled,</div><div>no outrages will be assuaged,</div><div>and triumphant justice</div><div>will remain silent</div><div>and unexpressed.</div><div>No idiot tragedies will be undone,</div><div>no screaming obscenity of suffering will be reversed,</div><div>no lifeless child's body</div><div>will ever laugh again in sunlit fields,</div><div>no grief will be cradled in silken arms,</div><div>no Hollywood fantasies will be fulfilled,</div><div>and no union with the All,</div><div>the One,</div><div>the Ultimate, and</div><div>the Real</div><div>will be celebrated in</div><div>cascades of sense beyond</div><div>experience.</div><div>Their only consolation</div><div>will be that being consoled</div><div>will no longer matter,</div><div>and all that has been</div><div>will no longer be,</div><div>as they return to a time</div><div>when no time</div><div>existed.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-43294069709353794372010-02-02T23:53:00.008-10:002010-02-03T00:42:32.877-10:00The elderly guardians of the ancient gatewatch with wizened satisfaction<div>as the heart-shaped young acolytes</div><div>clean up its rust,</div><div>fix the hinges,</div><div>give it yet another</div><div>coat of paint,</div><div>and once again make</div><div>the effusive signs of greeting</div><div>seem fresh and</div><div>anticipatory.</div><div>Their kind has stood by this gate</div><div>night and day in every battering</div><div>tempest, through every howling</div><div>battle, in every</div><div>blistering drought,</div><div>and through every earth-ripping</div><div>upheaval.</div><div>They have watched over it </div><div>from the moment</div><div>the Persecutor's brain</div><div>was flattened by the</div><div>electrical storm that</div><div>transformed him into </div><div>the Fool,</div><div>the Slave,</div><div>and the Prisoner.</div><div>The gate stands ready to greet</div><div>the only One</div><div>who will ever pass through it, the one whose</div><div>arrival must surely be waiting</div><div>on the cusp of the </div><div>morning,</div><div>the one whose long-silenced voice</div><div>is even now</div><div>readying its</div><div>glorious proclamations.</div><div>Faded invitations pass</div><div>from elderly hands to callow ones,</div><div>and all gaze toward the</div><div>heavens once more,</div><div>waiting for signs</div><div>and miracles.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-83544624243798311522010-02-02T01:17:00.010-10:002010-02-02T01:51:18.781-10:00He wanders through the jagged landscapeof the 3-D asylum,<div>its inmates wrapped in shrouds</div><div>made from solemn, decaying manuscripts,</div><div>redolent of dried blood,</div><div>suffused with the color</div><div>of dead seas and prayer-filled</div><div>deserts, and</div><div>steeped in wrathful love.</div><div>They look at him</div><div>with pleading, piteous eyes,</div><div>hoping to save him from</div><div>the worst sufferings of their</div><div>fear-saturated </div><div>imaginations,</div><div>calling out to him</div><div>to join the cloud-destined</div><div>procession, urging him</div><div>onward toward the ladder set in</div><div>majestic isolation in the</div><div>heart of the windswept field,</div><div>its cobbled together rungs</div><div>boldly reaching toward eternity.</div><div>It is all he can do</div><div>to not simply</div><div>give in and clamber up</div><div>the steps and leap</div><div>off the top,</div><div>hoping to ascend to</div><div>unimaginable dreamworlds</div><div>of transcendent peace,</div><div>rather than finding out</div><div>just how unforgiving</div><div>sun-hardened clay</div><div>can really be.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-44666152805292347782010-02-02T01:04:00.004-10:002010-02-02T01:15:26.667-10:00The trees are resonatingto the sounds of the sweet voiced<div>little dinosaurs,</div><div>the most earnest of them calling</div><div><i>I am here</i></div><div><i>I am here</i></div><div><i>I am here</i></div><div>into the twilight of the caldera, </div><div>convincing the credulous apes </div><div>that the song is for</div><div>them,</div><div>that its delicate urgency</div><div>is for their benefit,</div><div>and that the airy songsters</div><div>have no darker purpose</div><div>but to convince the apes</div><div>that the world is meant</div><div>for apish ears alone.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-82494108714801340532009-08-26T20:45:00.013-10:002019-07-21T23:09:52.961-10:00The Barbarian's Vacation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
I.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
It swims toward him out of the<br />
<div>
mists of his idealized vision, its</div>
<div>
swelling reality massaging his</div>
<div>
tired heart as the view turns from beach to </div>
<div>
quilted countryside to coiled</div>
<div>
urban warrens in breath-giving</div>
<div>
succession.</div>
<div>
Its life washes over him</div>
<div>
as its densely drawn picture</div>
<div>
writing</div>
<div>
follows him everywhere,</div>
<div>
punctuated by the Roman letters</div>
<div>
placed there for illiterate</div>
<div>
<i>gaijin</i> like himself. He is </div>
<div>
<i>there</i>, after uncounted</div>
<div>
years of aspiration, exhilaratingly</div>
<div>
lost, swimming in their patient</div>
<div>
kindness as they guide him</div>
<div>
with quiet grace.</div>
<div>
He gapes through the rushing window</div>
<div>
at the impossibly dense</div>
<div>
concrete, steel, and brick</div>
<div>
forest, its towers filled</div>
<div>
with lives lived within</div>
<div>
a few hundred square feet,</div>
<div>
proceeding endlessly across</div>
<div>
the Kanto Plain as the megacity</div>
<div>
swallows him with indifferent ease.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
II. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He gawks at the <i>Blade Runner</i> nightscape,</div>
<div>
its inhabitants swirling around him</div>
<div>
in purposeful journeys toward</div>
<div>
home, or</div>
<div>
toward beer and <i>sake</i>, </div>
<div>
or toward rendezvous</div>
<div>
with quietly waiting lovers</div>
<div>
or toward laughing revelers </div>
<div>
snaking their way</div>
<div>
through the myriad watering holes.</div>
<div>
Buildings from fifty years in the future</div>
<div>
oversee the ordered tumult,</div>
<div>
either in quiet business repose,</div>
<div>
or blaring out eye-blazing neon messages</div>
<div>
into the humid night, lurid with the</div>
<div>
promise of excitement, sex, status,</div>
<div>
and the rewards</div>
<div>
of money spent in the lunging pursuit</div>
<div>
of elusive happiness.</div>
<div>
Could this really have been</div>
<div>
the place where on that</div>
<div>
burning night the heat flipped</div>
<div>
the bombers upside down</div>
<div>
and the blackened dead</div>
<div>
lay piled up in haystacks</div>
<div>
of shriveled arms and legs?</div>
<div>
No trace of the ravaging fire</div>
<div>
remained any more,</div>
<div>
as the Shinjuku District's engine</div>
<div>
revved higher and higher, the neatly trimmed</div>
<div>
business people and the spiky haired</div>
<div>
teenagers flowing in eddies of</div>
<div>
brightly lit consciousness</div>
<div>
all around him.</div>
<div>
No elders ventured into this night;</div>
<div>
it was no longer their world,</div>
<div>
and it was no longer interested</div>
<div>
in their gray memories.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
III.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dotted throughout </div>
<div>
its meticulously organized</div>
<div>
newness, he found</div>
<div>
cross-legged Buddhas,</div>
<div>
gracefully sloping roofs,</div>
<div>
pious monks,</div>
<div>
and orange torii gates.</div>
<div>
<i>Clap! Clap!</i> to wake up the gods</div>
<div>
so that they might hear our petitions.</div>
<div>
Wrap the delicately written prayer requests</div>
<div>
and toss them into the big incense burner,</div>
<div>
fragrant with tradition and hopes.</div>
<div>
Gautama is no longer a starved seeker</div>
<div>
after the Light.</div>
<div>
He is huge, green or bronze, luxuriant</div>
<div>
with prosperous fat, bowed toward,</div>
<div>
prayed to as he hoped never to be,</div>
<div>
idolized, frozen in poses of Bodhi-like</div>
<div>
contemplation, while surrounded </div>
<div>
by the gold</div>
<div>
and sumptuous decoration</div>
<div>
he scorned and fled from</div>
<div>
in life.</div>
<div>
The ancient native faith for this world</div>
<div>
(please bless our new Lexus),</div>
<div>
Siddhartha's doctrines for the next</div>
<div>
(please keep me from rebirth.)</div>
<div>
The sweet-faced, petite guide told him</div>
<div>
that a million worshipers</div>
<div>
packed the Meiji park on New Year's Day,</div>
<div>
all imploring the ancestral spirits for good luck</div>
<div>
in the unfolding year to come. </div>
<div>
He imagined them all leaving</div>
<div>
afterward on the immaculate trains and buses, </div>
<div>
perhaps to hit the 7-11</div>
<div>
or the neighborhood McDonald's,</div>
<div>
ears pressed to cell phones, and anxious eyes</div>
<div>
checking Blackberries, the world of the <i>kami</i></div>
<div>
now left behind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
IV.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It was as if they lived to be polite,</div>
<div>
generous, helpful, and tolerant</div>
<div>
of his bumbling, child-like attempts</div>
<div>
to communicate in the clipped,</div>
<div>
subtle music of their language.</div>
<div>
They were unsurprised by his tall,</div>
<div>
aging Scots-Irish appearance; they</div>
<div>
were old pros at this, after all.</div>
<div>
Sweet faced children on school trips</div>
<div>
sometimes joyously said "Hello!" to</div>
<div>
him as they passed, bravely using the strange</div>
<div>
word to talk to one of Them. </div>
<div>
In the lobby one little</div>
<div>
sprite tried out "Good morning!"</div>
<div>
He said, <i>Ohayo gozaimas'! </i>back to the</div>
<div>
bold young explorer, much to the boy's delight.</div>
<div>
And everywhere </div>
<div>
in every clean street</div>
<div>
and every safe night time</div>
<div>
and every right-on-the-dot train door opening</div>
<div>
their diligence and their</div>
<div>
quiet pride were in evidence.</div>
<div>
He wondered how it came to be</div>
<div>
that they had raised the ordinary</div>
<div>
up to the extraordinary,</div>
<div>
and whether the white-gloved</div>
<div>
men on the <i>Shinkansen</i> really knew</div>
<div>
how abashed they made him feel</div>
<div>
about the slacker tribe</div>
<div>
of which he was a typically</div>
<div>
disheveled member.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
V.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He could find the quiet parks</div>
<div>
and the elegant gilded temples</div>
<div>
of the guidebooks and postcards.</div>
<div>
He reveled in the lazy, spoiled deer</div>
<div>
nuzzling him in the park by the huge temple,</div>
<div>
and his eye was caught by the occasional</div>
<div>
old woman venturing forth in the kimono</div>
<div>
that a proper lady always went out in public in.</div>
<div>
He was awed in the presence of the ancient</div>
<div>
castles that had stood as bastions in blood-drenched</div>
<div>
landscapes of centuries past, and he found himself</div>
<div>
reverent during the quiet dignity and fussy etiquette </div>
<div>
of the tea ceremony.</div>
<div>
But he knew</div>
<div>
that the giant train stations</div>
<div>
and the fleets of little cars beetling their way</div>
<div>
through the perfectly maintained streets</div>
<div>
and the thundering factories</div>
<div>
and crowded docksides</div>
<div>
and the endless delivery trucks</div>
<div>
and the ubiquitous manga figures</div>
<div>
leering out at him</div>
<div>
and the crazy game shows</div>
<div>
and the garish Pachinko parlors</div>
<div>
and the school uniforms</div>
<div>
and the office lights still burning at 8 PM</div>
<div>
said more about their world than</div>
<div>
Fuji-san</div>
<div>
ever could.</div>
<div>
He was under no illusion</div>
<div>
that his brief incursion</div>
<div>
into their precision guided,</div>
<div>
buckwheat noodled world</div>
<div>
had revealed their nature to him.</div>
<div>
He was smart enough to know</div>
<div>
that the preserved villages were a past</div>
<div>
they kept alive more for him than</div>
<div>
for themselves. He would never</div>
<div>
know their Zen essence,</div>
<div>
their private anguish,</div>
<div>
their secret hopes,</div>
<div>
their unspoken desires.</div>
<div>
Beneath the silly t-shirts</div>
<div>
and conservative suits were souls</div>
<div>
that he would never see.</div>
<div>
He was not of their tribe;</div>
<div>
he was not of their tongue.</div>
<div>
He had merely dipped his foreign toes into</div>
<div>
their crowded world, seeing its surfaces</div>
<div>
only. </div>
<div>
He knew something of their story;</div>
<div>
he knew the meaning of the empty,</div>
<div>
furniture-devoid rooms where their shoguns</div>
<div>
had ruled with imperious command.</div>
<div>
He knew of the upheaval those like him</div>
<div>
had brought to this land.</div>
<div>
But he did not yet know <i>them</i>;</div>
<div>
and like a novice defeated by a </div>
<div>
puzzle box</div>
<div>
or a koan, he left</div>
<div>
wanting to once again</div>
<div>
immerse himself</div>
<div>
in the smiling mystery</div>
<div>
of the islands that obscured</div>
<div>
more than they revealed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-40773732548088183102009-03-11T01:50:00.006-10:002009-03-11T02:11:25.030-10:00The air is hot and silent<div>and the room is lit</div><div>by the yellowed light</div><div>of an ever deepening</div><div>afternoon.</div><div>I look at the leathery works</div><div>of dried musings before me,</div><div>the volumes</div><div>lined up like grizzled elders</div><div>on shelves bent under the weight</div><div>of doubt,</div><div>hardly daring to run my</div><div>clumsy, calloused hands</div><div>over them</div><div>lest they crumble into dust</div><div>under the artless weight</div><div>of my half-forgotten</div><div>question.</div><div>Do they contain</div><div>mysteries </div><div>and</div><div>revelations</div><div>and</div><div>Everests</div><div>of hidden glories,</div><div>or are they merely</div><div>more of the same</div><div>cocksure nonsense</div><div>that has led me in</div><div>paths grown deep</div><div>with the gouges</div><div>of my weathered</div><div>circular journey?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-16949308534044267752009-02-04T23:28:00.006-10:002009-02-04T23:49:55.598-10:00I never suspected(lost as I was on a grey,<br />cold shoreline)<br />that they were<br />(or would be)<br />and that they would<br />be<br />what I thought I'd <div>never have<br />and that they would<br />affirm<br />that which I didn't know I<br />was<br />and that they would<br />so easily<br />demand<br />my once frozen love,<br />my self-surprising care,<br />my night time fears for them,</div><div>and my almost abandoned</div><div>future,<br />and make me<br />happier<br />than any man has a right to be<br />to give them.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-9761161102303326272009-01-24T19:50:00.003-10:002009-01-24T20:01:45.778-10:00They hide out of sightin the mud-slicked hollows of<div>corrugated slums,</div><div>snatching from the</div><div>fattened, possessive world </div><div>whatever</div><div>can be clutched in hands </div><div>grown old by six.</div><div>They gather in the sewers</div><div>of night, clinging to</div><div>dank walls</div><div>while above them</div><div>the adult world rolls</div><div>through the city</div><div>like a blind</div><div>armored division,</div><div>scattering fearful leavings</div><div>in its tracks but</div><div>oblivious to the scurrying</div><div>little gullets</div><div>that pinch unnoticed pieces</div><div>from it</div><div>and hoard them in the</div><div>unseen vaults</div><div>of stillborn</div><div>days to come.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-79508013211694920992009-01-23T18:06:00.007-10:002009-01-23T22:00:14.989-10:00It soars upto the very foot of the<div>Awful and Glorious Throne</div><div>and turns away from</div><div>the sunbright Presence</div><div>to fly to Andromeda and inspect</div><div>the nether regions of its</div><div>innermost spiral, dancing</div><div>through fields of shattered</div><div>potsherds that were once</div><div>iron-bottomed worlds.</div><div>It descends into the maelstrom</div><div>of bare-nerved bloodlust,</div><div>cringing at the sight of</div><div>trembling innocents </div><div>crushed under the</div><div>banal weight of grinning</div><div>barbarism.</div><div>Shivering with dread, it</div><div>curls up in airy dreamlands</div><div>of mercy, cradling itself</div><div>in the arms of warm-breathed</div><div>mammals, until it jumps</div><div>into the breathless</div><div>depths of desire and</div><div>lovefierce touch,</div><div>careening along the way</div><div>to a (distant?) scene</div><div>of watching the garden one last</div><div>moment, eyes brimming</div><div>with the end of a thousand</div><div>unwritten stories.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-49155174562769690912009-01-18T01:49:00.004-10:002009-01-18T02:07:19.448-10:00It buildsinto a silent crescendo<div>at the end of all beginnings,</div><div>gathering all the chains</div><div>into its ethereal hands,</div><div>pushing at the boundary</div><div>of straining, protesting possibility</div><div>until all has been swept</div><div>into its savagely beautiful</div><div>singular embrace.</div><div>It will abolish every why,</div><div>evaporate every how,</div><div>and break down the last</div><div>barriers between here</div><div>and not-here,</div><div>now and</div><div>not-now,<br /></div><div>and I and Not-I.</div><div>The final Amen will ring out,</div><div>and it will vanish into itself,</div><div>waiting for the next</div><div>careless fluctuation</div><div>to let it roar out of the</div><div>Jack-in-the Box</div><div>once again.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-23931748776711363452009-01-08T00:52:00.005-10:002009-01-25T00:26:37.576-10:00I struggle to pull myselfinto that tiny little world<div>where delirious points of nothing</div><div>gleefully appear </div><div>in two places at once.</div><div>They spin maniacally</div><div>as I try to grab them,</div><div>and slip through</div><div>my hands</div><div>with mocking randomness,</div><div>daring me to follow them</div><div>as they roar silently</div><div>and bounce motionlessly</div><div>off the daynight</div><div>zig zagged valley walls</div><div>of their inside-out</div><div>little universe.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1301512517192902065.post-89755869085216915402009-01-03T01:21:00.005-10:002009-01-03T01:37:08.146-10:00"OK, kid, it's like this",the grizzled veteran said to the<div>bright-eyed neophyte</div><div>sitting in soft expectation</div><div>before him.</div><div>"You gotta dish it out hard and mean,</div><div>'cause if you don't,</div><div>they're gonna kick you where</div><div>it counts,</div><div>and you gotta get your foot in there</div><div>first.</div><div>They're gonna cut ya, see?</div><div>They're gonna try and take</div><div>your goddam head off and </div><div>laugh about it.</div><div>They don't give a rat's ass</div><div>what happens to you, so</div><div>you gotta cave their faces in</div><div>you gotta be strong</div><div>and not look back</div><div>and not think there was</div><div>any other way</div><div>you coulda dealt with</div><div>the sonsuvbitches."</div><div>With that, the young one</div><div>rose, went over</div><div>to the battle-scarred</div><div>warrior,</div><div>kissed him softly on the forehead,</div><div>and slashed the old guy's throat</div><div>from ear to ear.</div><div>And he could have sworn,</div><div>as he turned and walked out,</div><div>that he heard a strangled voice say,</div><div>"good boy".</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0