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Saturday, January 30, 2010

Fast Day 139 January 20 2010 {The Thief of Water}

Fezzan Oasis


She, not She

I smell a flower,
a mallow stem bleeding, perhaps,
then the queen's lace,
and finally lavander and rose,
and I step into Cairo's perfume shop
of eros and imagination
to think of her.

I see the geese,
a group of males in the wetlands,
then wonder where
the females spend intimacies,
so I go into the woods along
the river of woven reed baskets
and remember her.

I feel the virgin palm tree
bend beneath my over-eager grasp,
then wonder why
I am so angry, so perplexed...
so I go mad within the oasis
to drink naked from the spring
of her lips.

I see a mirage of flags
fly from imaginary forts within
the ancient lake:
suddenly my hair whips, running gazelle,
spit flying and panting mouth...
not pennants of war;
her wet dress...drying!

...I arrive at last,
out of breath and dirty as an eland -
where have you been?
she asks, eyeing my drooping fidelity;
Up and down, I gasp, up and down
Afric's paleo-lakes and streams!
they are no more!

she laughs -
like sparks from the Minotaur's flinty hooves -
takes me down a notch! -
phantom symposium of thirsty eyes!
How could the eternal lakes be gone?
And sacrament streams? Or extinct
my hart and hind?

naked gazelle -
go to the window, look about, and tell
me whatever you see!
Forgetting luxuriant nudity,
I strode - a dusty palm tree, a verdant
papyrus - I was numb catastrophe!
I saw the lakes... and then sat down, bare skin
on alabaster.

Her rain was love;
we replenished entire aquifers!
from my dust came clay
mixed with eros' several peculiar sweats;
Will one tumble th'Atlantean towers?
Or intercept and bind our Mother Nile?
No, she said.


------------------
notes:

Minotaur
the offspring of Minos' Queen Pasiphae and a Bull. Anyway...Minotaur is half human, half bull, lived in the Labyrinth, and Theseus killed him/it.
Daedalus designed the Labyrinth, if you're interested; his son Icarus was the first to die in a flying accident.

Afric's paleo-lakes...
anciently the Sahara was a verdant area, having dried up recently in geological time, destined to be green again in 15,000 years. "paleo" is a Greek prefix for "old".

phantom symposium
she says I have seen illusions, caused by thirst...phantom drinking parties ( in this case, drinking water) caused by thirsty eyes.

Some say that within the paleo-system of lakes and rivers, from the Chott el Jerid in Tunisia - in the North- down to the mega-lake of Chad...and even beyond, when the drainage of the Mighty Congo went eastwards, to the Rift Lakes of Victoria and Tanganyika...there was situated the city of Atlantis...and its destruction came with the Great Drying and plate tectonics within the Rift Valley.

The lady of this poem and I live in the magic time to come - or the time past, when the Sahara is green, and mankind is at peace. We interrelate with the present, and she cannot believe the drought that has overtaken her land in the past, which is our present.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Fast Day 139 January 29 2010 draft 1

Fezzan Oasis



The Thief of Water

I smell a flower,
a mallow stem bleeding, perhaps,
then the queen's lace,
and finally lavander and rose,
and I step into Cairo's perfume shop
of street, eros, and imagination
to think of her.

I taste water
dripping on my tongue; reading with my eyes
old hieroglyphs
that trace the course of vanished rivers
and tell the stories of the god-like lakes -
libraries of Alexandria:
scattered and gone...

I see the geese,
a group of males in the wetlands,
then wonder where
the females spend times of intimacies;
I fend into the reedy bottomland,
finding nothing but the track of drought...
then yearn for her.

I feel the virgin palm tree
bend beneath my over-eager grasp,
then wonder why
I am so angry, so perplexed...
so I go mad within the oasis
to prey, then drink nakedly from the spring
of her lips.

I see a mirage of flags
fly from imaginary forts within
the dry lake bed...
suddenly my hair whips, running gazelle,
dust clouds, spit flying,  and panting mouth...
not pennants of warlike bedouins, but
her wet dress...drying!

...I arrive at last,
out of breath and dirty as an eland -
where have you been?
she asks, eyeing my drooping fidelity;
Up and down, I gasp, up and down,
questing Afric's paleo-lakes and streams!
they are no more!

she laughs -
like sparks from the Minotaur's flinty hooves -
takes me down a notch! -
phantom symposium of thirsty eyes!
How could the eternal lakes be gone?
And sacrament streams? Or extinct
my hart and hind?

naked gazelle -
go to the window, look about, and tell
me whatso you see!
Forgetting luxuriant nudity,
I strode - all dusty, a  palm tree,  verdant
papyrus - I was numb catastrophe!
I saw the lakes! ... and then sat down, bare skin
on alabaster.

Her rain was love;
we replenished entire aquifers!
from my dust came clay
mixed with eros' sev'ral peculiar sweats;
Will one tumble th'Atlantean towers?
Or intercept and bind our Mother Nile?
...illusion!


------------------
notes:

Minotaur
the offspring of Minos' Queen Pasiphae and a Bull. Anyway...Minotaur is half human, half bull, lived in the Labyrinth, and Theseus killed him/it.
Daedalus designed the Labyrinth, if you're interested; his son Icarus was the first to die in a flying accident.

Afric's paleo-lakes...
anciently the Sahara was a verdant area, having dried up recently in geological time, destined to be green again in 15,000 years. "paleo" is a Greek prefix for "old".

phantom symposium
she says I have seen illusions, caused by thirst...phantom drinking parties ( in this case, drinking water) caused by thirsty eyes.

Some say that within the paleo-system of lakes and rivers, from the Chott el Jerid in Tunisia - in the North- down to the mega-lake of Chad...and even beyond, when the drainage of the Mighty Congo went eastwards, to the Rift Lakes of Victoria and Tanganyika...there was situated the city of Atlantis...and its destruction came with the Great Drying and plate tectonics within the Rift Valley.

The lady of this poem and I live in the magic time to come - or the time past, when the Sahara is green, and mankind is at peace. We interrelate with the present, and she cannot believe the drought that has overtaken her land in the past, which is our present.

stanza 1:  I sense a wondeful scent
stanza 2:  the waters of Africa are drying, and are ancient as hieroglyphs...gone like Alexandria's library
stanza 3:  animals are disappearing...yet I remember Her.
stanza 4:  within an oasis, my passion bursts out...
stanza 5:  a mirage of flags reminds me of Her, and I run, for the flag is her dress drying in the wind.
stanza 6:  I arrive and She asks me where I'd been...
stanza 7:  She tells me the disappearance of the waters is the mirage
stanza 8:  She tells me to look out the window and see for myself...
stanza 9:  Rain Storm!

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Welcome To Another Friend



I had this photo in my other blog showing the entrance to the "Mixing Bowl" of the interstates heading to the City. I realize it could also be symbolic, sort of ... well, any number of things.

Welcome, Daniel, to the group of us all.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Fast Day 138 January 22 2010 {The Opium of Afghanistan}



The Opium of Afghanistan

The opium of Afghanistan
is always on my mind;
sixty patients who conceal
man's intolerance to man
who will die, and who will deal.

A strategy of hegemon
planned within the Pentagram's
cubicular endless row,
sends a gift wrapped carton
bomb where we disguise our blow.

A poster of the ocean sunset,
a poster of new born pups;
missing pieces jigsaw puzzles
newspapers with coffee wet
on tables 'neath our muzzles.

Our karaoke souls sing:
O, floating to Madagascar
on a raft of vegetation;
lithium changes everything,
in the hospital of my nation.

I believe in a higher power..!
To see my god I wish!
TV! Cable snaps to view!
One thousand channels from but a Dish!

( the cable screams...!
like the cirucmcised sons of Heth.)
circumcision...magic edit...
morphman video magic edit
crack download
true launch drivecrypt
zetamail and nitroboot
max crax
transcender device
system
key
crack
visual chairman
and the red book of
mr. skins.
the cities of the plain in Midian...
and Narcisse in Cairo's cemeteries
where white skinned children play...
with roadware techno bombs,
bullshit crack,
according to our plan
the power of the pentagram...
and the hard drive is a leather
disk-like codpiece storage unit...
...I have run out of precious words!
...chain-smoked them all! scattered at our feet...
like leaves to fill and papers to roll
and my mind a bic lighter to ignite...
the robot drones of fate draw nigh!

------
notes

meditation on the untold story of where Afghanistan's opium is going, mental hospitals, and TV.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Welcome

Welcome to a new fellow over in the friendly gallery section,  Brian Rick.
Keep in mind these poems come off the assembly line at a rate of one per week, so they can be quite unfinished and crude...OK. Crude. Not unkempt, however.

Welcome.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Fast Day 137 January 14 {Walk Like an Egyptian}


Nut, the sky goddess, and Geb, the god of the earth
from the tomb of Heru em Horeb


Walk Like an Egyptian

Like Egypt's gods of earth and heaven,
the sky sits on my face today...
while I sit on the concrete stoop out front
and buzz to the sun going
around the girdle of her hips.
like sixty!

Like the music of a pantheon,
I plunge into a mystery
where the nude girl plays acoustic guitar,
and ties me to the bed with
the smoky rings of incense from
Kashmeer.

We go in, and climb the booming,
throbbing bass of footprints worn deep:
crevasses in the glacial wooden stairs;
like kneelers from a bankrupt church;
wish I was again outside,
dreaming.

I'll fly away in the morning,
when the patchwork quilt, sewn by hand
from the liquid smells of love's acrobat
stifles me with succubal heat:
I'll fly and leave my jeans behind,
like TV.

-----
note:
I originally had an unfinished poem scheduled up by mistake; I removed it and put this in.

added 01/26/2010
someone asked that I clarify a bit of imagery: stanza 3, when "we go in", we are climbing old, old wooden stairs which have deep impressions in them left by thousands of footfalls over the years...deep as cravasses in slowly moving glaciers...glaciers which now recede and disappear.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Fast Day 136 January 6 2009 {LemonAid}


LemonAid

I saw a lemon in a store;
the saffron sadness of a lemon!
to be the end of crabbed metaphor
about eternal optimism:

when I'm given lemons, why...
I make lemonade!
same drink children sell a summer's
day for a mere 5 cents plain a glass!

first, pluck from eden citrus tree
second, close-pack to transport,
from maternal Murcia that bore thee
to a grocery's endless cabinets.

then to form a pyramid
of cheerleaders who yell - Oh,
gimme an L! gimme an E!
and sell for a cool 99 a pound!

within a glad bag of point-9 mil
are buried those old lemon skins!
sever, cut, and grind yet still
we plunder them for zest!

-------
notes

inspired by a grocer's vast pyramids of fruit, wonderful and cheery...yet I knew what would happen once we got them home.