on trying to write poetry.

it is so very hard.

 

 

 

   What surrounds me is far more

   profane than beautiful. Mostly

   the scall disorder of unshaven

   authority.

   I am far too old for rebellion,

   so I pass my beam of radiation

   over whatever wastage comes

   at me quickly.

   Now,

   If I posessed that right hook

   that Forman used to scatter

   Norton's senses, perhaps I

   could manage. Even commandos

   gesture to the suns golden

   gardens; the hegira of bullshit

   that even nyphs and dragons,

   history shows, stands guard to.

 

 

   I won't dishonor, with leaked truth,

   Black ghosts with referred eponyms

   of freedom, diplomacy or

   acts of kindness.Or for that

   matter, any sound that

   belays our faith.

   Not an anarchistic Coletrane,

   or endive grown in semidarkness,

   or a six foot seven Albert King,

   sidestepping Belial and belching

   the blues in cheap shoes,

   Indianola hair and a five

   thousand dollar super-v

   guitar.

   Or the soon to be vaporized

   young girls, immane in their

   blue skirts, herkey-jerkey

   shoulders, giant frills and

   imaginary problems,

   without immodesty under

   the rush of light.

 

 

   After hearing, reading and

   smelling so much, I have

   seen the shiller of moonlight.

 

 

   Dear prosateur with winged feet:

   You who have rinsed off the

   dirty stones of propense;

   Yes you, who have hosed-down

   the rostrum for the

   clear speak of the living.

   Please.

   Poets don't create fantasy,

   they make love in it.

Reviews

[ghost writer]

This was made to be spoken out loud! Your last two lines encompass the pain of writing poetry..as if the world has to brought to life in these words..bravo (clapping)

[...]

. oh ... wow ... what a piece ... gut wrenching ... and yet so poetic and resilient ... poets are unbelievable ... truly unbelievable ...

[Emily B]

those last two lines stopped me cold, they were so perfect and tall that I just couldn't get back to the immediate business of typing in the little box immediately. But I caught my breath and here I am amazed at what poets can do.