Hell P. since you speak confuse speak and I can't read
minds or add between the lines, I have no idea what your
predicament at present might be or has been or will be
or should, would, could and all the rest be, so I will just
dedicate this poem to you P. It has been published and
my editors won't like it but for you and your surreal
messages I think it fits quite well today. tom
I Have Long Departed (1999)
you'll never crucify me now,
or scourge my body red,
for I have long departed life
to live among the dead
there is no gravestone marker laid,
no earth disturbed above,
I live within and in-between
the hatred and the love
I walk the dusty ditches
of New Mexico alone,
a thousand shades of red I see
that bleed from ancient stone
she walked me west of Eden where
the buses ran on time;
they say the bus is never late
if you provide the dime
I gaze back at the garden gate -
the gate and garden - gone!
I turn to her as if she might
tell me what must be wrong
her thread-bare bones stand silent white
then vanish in the sand
and mixed among the mica grains
gold rings from her left hand
the west wind blows with rage so wild
it cuts and strips my skin.
I sit down under cactus shade
to contemplate my sin
as turbid air disturbs my fate
the desert disappears
as I rise into morning sky
my face now traced with tears
but fear is dissipated soon,
it drowns along with dread
for I have long departed life
to live among the dead
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/14/2009 06:57AM by easyeverett.
Another good read, Tom, do you live near the desert?
Les
I am a true Irishman Les and that old yellow orb,
the sun, loves to mix and match my genetic ectodermis
DNA enough that basal cell carcinoma's can pop up anytime.
Fortunately they don't metasticize but I've got some good
scars. The scene in the poem reflects the NE Corner going
west to the Four Corners in New Mexico. There is a highway
up there that I take my MR-2 down at least once a year. It
is the most naturally spiritual place I have encounted in
this country.Taos used to be when I made drug runs down that
a-way many years ago, like '63, when psycilicibin or magic mushrooms
were the big brain eater of the day and I loved to have my
brain eaten. LOL. Thanks for the interest Les, I appreciate
it. I live in the center of Iowa. West Des Moines to be exact
but I still get a craving for the road and all the ghosts of
the road long since retired to streets paved in gold. LOL
Thanks. tom
Thanks for the info. Tom, one of my favorite places is Flagstaff, thought you might have been in that area.
Les
Awwwwww
Tom,
Your energetic rhyme and expression, combined with economy of form, make this poem effective. It's enigmatic, but there's no harm in leaving the reader to infer the background circumstances imaginatively. The main thing is that the poetic persona is portrayed as having complete awareness of whatever has gone on/is going on, and you give enough detail to make that convincing.
How long it will keep Mr P quietly occupied remains to be seen. He is a bit like one of those trick candles that relights after you think you have blown it out.
Ian
"Facilis descensus Averni"
Not a bad match. I find it infinitely amusing that I am mostly commonly labeled, by those deficient in sanity, as one of their religion's minor deities. Merlin, Archimedes, scientist, mathematician, or was it magician, demi-god? So yes, trick candle. A simple manipulation of chemistry, far beyond the minds of blue catalogers.
"Don't take the good fruit, that's for company"
God - Eden - Way B.C