Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Milquetoast Poet Blues

Here I am

Lotophage:..
Thistle-eater

Masquerading

As a Man of
Letters
While

The Planet
Burns

And
All of the glorious
Stardogs

Have all become
Roadkill

What good are my
Lovesongs

when
The pyroclastic flow
of
Hate now

Reigns supreme?

What the fuck am I
anymore
But
a
rubber-souled
Milquetoast
poet?

____________

*5/23/17

Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Frühes Lied / Early Song

Frühes Lied  --  Clemens Brentano

Fahre fort mit Dornenschlägen,
Weiße Rose, meinem Herzen,
Dem verbrannten, quillt ein Segen,
Aus den Tränen aus den Schmerzen.

Breche ganz mein altes Leben,
Ich muß dir, die so erschienen
Einen bessern Bruder geben
Gott und dir in ihm zu dienen.

Alles muß von dir ich nehmen
Kann dir nichts, ach gar nichts geben,
Denn du mußt den Drachen zähmen,
Um dem Herrn den Schatz zu heben.

Sieh, ich beug' mich dir zu Füßen,
Du Erbarmen, weine nieder,
Lehre mich, wie du zu büßen,
Tränenquell der frommen Lieder.

All mein Letzen und Verletzen,
All mein Lügen, Trachten, Scheinen,
Darauf sollst den Fuß du setzen
Und so im Triumph erscheinen.

Alles, was du still gelitten,
Deine Not, dein fromm Entsagen,
Hat auch mir das Herz durchschnitten,
Doch du, du hast es getragen.

Alles was du je getragen,
Sieh, das hab' ich all verschuldet,
Meine Schuld hat dich geschlagen,
Und du hast so fromm geduldet.

Und nun trägst du dies versunkne,
Das dich marterte, dies Herz,
O du Gottesmitleidtrunkne,
An dem deinen, himmelwärts!

____________


Early Song (translated by Wolfgang Heinle & William Bitters)


Cease your thorn-beating, O White Rose--
Into my burning heart
Springs forth a benediction:
Born from tears, from pain.

My old life was broken away
As you appeared to me--
I must be a better brother
So, through him, I may serve God and you.

All I can do is take from you--
Nothing, truly nothing, I have is worthy of you--
For you must tame the dragon
To claim the treasure for the Lord.

See how I bow down to your feet!
With mercy, you shed tears upon me 
And teach me to suffer like you--
You are the source of tears in all hymns...

All of my hurts and injuries
All my lying, scheming, pretending--
Your foot must trample upon these,
So you may issue forth in triumph.

All of your silent suffering,
All your hardships, your renunciations
Have sliced through my heart--
Though you, you have endured!

All the misery you have borne--
See, all of this is my fault:
My guilt has bludgeoned you,
Yet you have endured!

And now you carry the ruined
Crucified Sacred Heart--
And you drink from the Lord's compassion
Upon your holy ascension!

____________

*5/3/17

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

In wine-sore late-early hours

In wine-sore
late-early hours

With rose bouquets
as headphones--

Red to my right
White to my left,

I hold on
To thorn-wand songs so hard

Tho' they tear into
The flesh of my palms,,,

Don't talk to me about honeylove
I cannot row across the blueblack lake

To the shores of the longpoint

I cannot croon sexysongs

Nor softshoe shuffle

In waltztime

Until you sing a desperate kiss
Into my mouth

And fill my lungs with

Violent hearthammered
Hopefulness.

____________

*4/25/17

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Poem Forty-Five

Another day of indifferent snow

And I'm pushing the plough of time

Through frozen fields


Another day of anxiety

And I'm upon my knees again

With a skullfull of snarling wolves


Another day of hopeless attrition

And I'm drinking down the dregs

Of another stonecold cup of bitter coffee...

____________

2/2/17

Monday, January 30, 2017

The Old House

Lately, I have been following my
memories
Like bare footprints in mud
marching back
to my boyhood bedroom
in the
Old House

(Which is no more...)

The dated wallpaper and
carpet
The guitar-scars 'pon the ceiling

The air thick with art-pencil graphite
and nascent dreams

My old man violently reminding me
on a regular basis
That I am useless and stupid

And the radio seductively reminding me
on a regular basis
That I am alive and hopelessly artfucked

For reasons beyond comprehension
It's always late Autumn
and after midnight
In those memories...

Cold
and
Dark
and
Forever
Blissfully
Electric...

___________

*1/30/17

Mother of Exiles

Oh,
Sad petty
Little men--
You
Graceless
Dreamless
Sons of  Destruction...

She has seen the likes of you
Too many
Times to
Count.

You are not the first,
Nor will you be the
Last
To assault
Her virtue..

But clearly
You have not bothered to
Learn the lessons
Taught to
Your
Progenitors--

A mother will sacrifice
All
to
Protect
Her children--
Tooth and nail
Blood and bone:

You may try to degrade
And humiliate her--

You may try to abuse
Abase, and
Dehumanize
Her daughters & sons

But she will pull
Each and every star
From the
Heavens
And stuff each
And every one
Down your
Throats
Until you choke
To death
On
Your own
Immolating cruelty.

____________

* 1/30/17

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Pas De Deux

I have dreamt of you
in waltz-time
   laughing piano arpeggios
Your eyes
the threat of
thundersnow
Dancing
in faerietale Red Shoes
   kicking blood
and dust up
into
my face
And
I in soulstruck awe
   Diving headlong
into the pas de deux
Matching and mirroring
You

I have dreamt of you
An exhalation
away from a kiss
   Smiling
At once
cautionary and inviting
   Biting my lower lip
I spin, turn, glide
Blinded by starlight
   Drunk on impossibilities
And you
Pirouetting
  upon tear-slick floorboards
Bathed in grace and freedom

Lullaby-soft
  You throw me
One last wild wondrous
Knowing look
   And then vanish--
As I awaken with
a breathless
broken
Heart.

__________

*1/5/17