3 poems i like that i did not write
POEM numero Un----o:
this one is dedicated to the only female i know that likes Cool Hand Luke who's finally coming to visit the Looney Binne
the insane always loved
me
and the subnormal.
all through grammar school
junior high
high school
junior college
the unwanted would attach
themselves to
me.
guys with one arm
guys with twitches
guys with speech defects
guys with while film
over one eye,
cowards
misanthropes
killers
peep-freaks
and thieves.
and all through the
factories and on the
bum
I always drew the
unwanted. they found me
right off and attached
themselves. they
still do.
in this neighborhood now
there's one who's
found me.
he pushes around
a shopping cart
filled with trash:
broken canes, shoelaces
empty potato chip bags,
milk cartons, newspapers, penholders...
"'hey, buddy, how ya doin'?"
I stop and we talk a
while.
then I say goodbye
but he still follows
me
past the beer
parlours and the
love parlours...
"keep me informed,
I want to know what's
going on."
he's my new one.
I've never seen him
talk to anybody
else.
the cart rattles
along a little bit
behind me
then something
falls out.
he stops to pick
it up.
as he does I
walk through the
front door of the
green hotel on the
corner
pass down through
the hall
come out the back
door and
there's a cat
shitting there in
absolute delight.
he grins
at
me.
[Charles Bukowski from Love is a Dog from Hell- i think it works for PIG, Michael Stalker, the Midget Spaniard Quartet {rose- greece} THE HEAD, E.H, Copy Machine Guy, JACK the Ripper [el blondino]...etc.]
Poem numero Du----o:
dedicated to everyone who hopes to buy a life while holiday shopping
No one lives his life.
Disguised since childhood,
haphazardly assembled
from voices and fears and little pleasures,
we come of age as masks.
Our true face never speaks.
Somewhere there must be storehouses
where all these lives are laid away
like suits of armor or old carriages
or clothes hanging limply on the walls.
Maybe all paths lead there,
to the repository of unlived things.
Poem numero Treis---eeo:
this one is dedicated to every student of: life, university, high school, elementary, the written word, the spoken word, The Word, and wordlessness. a celebration to the non alphabetical state.
I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what awaits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving
If this is arrogant, G-d, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back
the way it is with children.
Then in these swelling and ebbing current,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels,
into the open sea.
this one is dedicated to the only female i know that likes Cool Hand Luke who's finally coming to visit the Looney Binne
the insane always loved
me
and the subnormal.
all through grammar school
junior high
high school
junior college
the unwanted would attach
themselves to
me.
guys with one arm
guys with twitches
guys with speech defects
guys with while film
over one eye,
cowards
misanthropes
killers
peep-freaks
and thieves.
and all through the
factories and on the
bum
I always drew the
unwanted. they found me
right off and attached
themselves. they
still do.
in this neighborhood now
there's one who's
found me.
he pushes around
a shopping cart
filled with trash:
broken canes, shoelaces
empty potato chip bags,
milk cartons, newspapers, penholders...
"'hey, buddy, how ya doin'?"
I stop and we talk a
while.
then I say goodbye
but he still follows
me
past the beer
parlours and the
love parlours...
"keep me informed,
I want to know what's
going on."
he's my new one.
I've never seen him
talk to anybody
else.
the cart rattles
along a little bit
behind me
then something
falls out.
he stops to pick
it up.
as he does I
walk through the
front door of the
green hotel on the
corner
pass down through
the hall
come out the back
door and
there's a cat
shitting there in
absolute delight.
he grins
at
me.
[Charles Bukowski from Love is a Dog from Hell- i think it works for PIG, Michael Stalker, the Midget Spaniard Quartet {rose- greece} THE HEAD, E.H, Copy Machine Guy, JACK the Ripper [el blondino]...etc.]
Poem numero Du----o:
dedicated to everyone who hopes to buy a life while holiday shopping
No one lives his life.
Disguised since childhood,
haphazardly assembled
from voices and fears and little pleasures,
we come of age as masks.
Our true face never speaks.
Somewhere there must be storehouses
where all these lives are laid away
like suits of armor or old carriages
or clothes hanging limply on the walls.
Maybe all paths lead there,
to the repository of unlived things.
Poem numero Treis---eeo:
this one is dedicated to every student of: life, university, high school, elementary, the written word, the spoken word, The Word, and wordlessness. a celebration to the non alphabetical state.
I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what awaits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving
If this is arrogant, G-d, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back
the way it is with children.
Then in these swelling and ebbing current,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels,
into the open sea.
posted by HindiK at 11:52 PM
7 Comments:
oh lover. that was awesome. thanks for the ded.
anytime hon,
absolutely anytime.
countin,
and prayin,
and wishin,
and hopin,
[however that damn song goes- see Natasha for details]
till Sunday then...
"Maybe all paths lead there,
to the repository of unlived things."
i think i've been there once on a stopover between never never land and the underworld.
{communication is a myth of the modern age. call, regardless.}
avik... avik
how many times do i have to tell you its Chanukah not Christmas.
but holiday greeetings nonetheless.
namastaei.
Beautiful poems....being that "the insane always loved you" I fear a bit......."guys with one arm, twitches. speech defects...killers, thieves" I do hope your "PICKINGS" are a whole lot better then that?????
i do hope your pickings are better THAN that
not then-
your sentence is comparative.
and you sound an awful lot like my mother...
uuhhh come to think of it
this could very possibly be my mother, who was just using my computer....
ma?? are you posting anonymously on my blog again??
;)
busted.
Hindi Dear
you'll be pleased to know that you can in fact Purchase a Life.
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