Search This Blog

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Fast Day 117 August 29 2009 {Happy Anniversary}

Happy Anniversary

do not tarry long in your lofty house,
trust in the fleetness of your love:
glory in your splendor of union,
hold high your heads - exult!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Fast Day 116 August 22 2009 {Tough Guy Poetry}

Tough Guy Poetry

I didn't get to sleep,
reading Ferlinghetti
and Bukowski, feeling that my love
was like two-buck chuck:
a dog from hell
that pissed upon the silks!

Silks! especially the moiré!
or watered silks and wall hangings...
watered! - or damask for grander things...
before the common and mundane
availibility of cotton
spelled silken doom...and washable chintz!

I forgot the dog
and dreamed of Brighton Pavilion,
ladies in silk, French and Egyptian;
the smell of silk against
skin that salivates an odor
of erotic chinoiserie!

My mind is not Frisco Bay,
nor the poet's urban garrett;
it's absinthe in my body's pockets,
the sphinx's head and clawed feet
like mahogany and rosewood
for the Prince Regent !


trying to write like Bukowski - or Ferlinghetti -
I end up dreaming of Regency furniture...
silks, carved sphinxes, tables with lions' feet.

"absinthe in my body's pockets" may be
a sweat from love's exertion...maybe not.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Fast Day 115 August 14 2009 {Da}


My grandfather came from his grave
sweat dripping from his hairy chest
taking great gulps of air as if
the air was Guiness on tap;
he stood in the rain and smiled
at me a smile so fair
and faery of enchantment - light
from amethyst eyes
and onyx finger joints
I gave
to him
my grandsire.

So it was ye who came a-singing
like a great powerful piper, Orpheus
and Cuchulain - give me but another
toke of whiskey's air
and find me one of Erin's fair
daughters - red headed with delirium
with green eyes
and ruby red finger nails
that I
will love
again, grandson!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Fast Day 114 August 8 2009 {Kick-Ass Mary}

Kick-Ass Mary

How great the pain that pierced your heart,
Mother, when they raised Him on the cross;
ceaseless furrows of your tears record the
tsunami of your loss!
Hammer and spear, thorns and scourge,
all life from your soul did purge?

"My pain blinded everything else, I could not stand;
I admit that in my pain I cried a few
tears and screamed in my deep despair... softened
by the mound of stones I threw!
from Roman heads came blood, their cries attest:
'Get that Jew bitch! That Jewish terrorist!' "

the Virgin Mary is usually depicted as silently suffering during the passion of Jesus. However, she fought for her kids like a soldier, and drew the blood of killers. She still fights for us.
(as I explain in a comment, I tired of Mary being portrayed as Our Lady of Perpetual Victimization.)