Cagesong
Posted: Fri Mar 01, 2002 3:04 pm
<center>Cagesong</center>
<a name="top">Table of Contents</a>
<a href="#one"> Untitled </a>
<a href="#two"> Reality of Morning in Springfield Vermont </a>
<a href="#three"> Immediate Poem (Pretense and Politics) </a>
<a href="#four"> kiss </a>
<a href="#five"> On Poetry </a>
<a href="#six"> Night </a>
<a href="#seven"> Where I’ve been </a>
<a href="#eight"> Vanishing </a>
<a href="#nine"> Cognitive Disonance </a>
<a href="#ten"> Pursuit </a>
<a href="#eleven"> Old Poem, Sorry </a>
___________________________
<a name="#one"> Untitled </a>
snowfall white wash mush
land on landscape in about
4/4 time signature falls, a crow swoops
synchronous to music-radio myth genious
mush, in and out of time red cloth illusion
death manipulates my expert imganation-too precise Brian, too precise for me to be entirley practical, but the big picture is as the big picture is.
Not perfect
sometimes I forget to ask... what?
as well
as why?
What am I doing?
hitch-hiking about, destroying my safe reality with scary drugs
impulsive playground stage set bloom trees, brown bark peeling
underneath is naked earth
underneath lies this core of my spacious space
radio just sort of lays it on thick, a bit better, a bit,
sometimes a lot, when I go full swing
my power to manipulate like absract mathmatic covert-
lies in my ability not to let on too much
because deep down i’ve just been lying-dammit!
to imagine Jessica and Joel
in one car riding this washed up wave of oblivian
becoming rather boring
as I discover this innate intelligence is just
repeated tape recorder cycle, that like a jestor or broken record
brings me up and down
and overloads reactions, sometimes nervous to my thinking
about thinking, toying mental marxism-throw away just among physical anarchism
my worries, about blank-and seriousness, well
now that we are close to nuclear war, new clear vision
is needed, not specific
clarity of a blue lake in your eyes....
See, I am not a dog,
and don’t claim to be real easy to dig
Infact I am intentionally, intro-mystic inside,
and i’m not going to wear my heart on my sleave
don’t really try to be fully hip, to all they say...
they is well they....those ordinaries who save lives
they saved my life,
in the rock dry hard mountains of Maine
above the glowing mist black town, bright lights
factories overlooking river...smoke explosion..neon....like say...ghosts experession
not explaining, right away
I’ve been told, by educateds
I am depressed, wondering unable to focus, just sort of
stublimg unintentionally, trying to explemifly this
existential metaphor, let’s say commonplace Jack Kerouac and such, just
giving a vivid metaphor, laugh.....
that I am extreme in one hemisphere.
Ha! I am extreme!!
<a href="#top">Back to Index </a>
<a name="top">Table of Contents</a>
<a href="#one"> Untitled </a>
<a href="#two"> Reality of Morning in Springfield Vermont </a>
<a href="#three"> Immediate Poem (Pretense and Politics) </a>
<a href="#four"> kiss </a>
<a href="#five"> On Poetry </a>
<a href="#six"> Night </a>
<a href="#seven"> Where I’ve been </a>
<a href="#eight"> Vanishing </a>
<a href="#nine"> Cognitive Disonance </a>
<a href="#ten"> Pursuit </a>
<a href="#eleven"> Old Poem, Sorry </a>
___________________________
<a name="#one"> Untitled </a>
snowfall white wash mush
land on landscape in about
4/4 time signature falls, a crow swoops
synchronous to music-radio myth genious
mush, in and out of time red cloth illusion
death manipulates my expert imganation-too precise Brian, too precise for me to be entirley practical, but the big picture is as the big picture is.
Not perfect
sometimes I forget to ask... what?
as well
as why?
What am I doing?
hitch-hiking about, destroying my safe reality with scary drugs
impulsive playground stage set bloom trees, brown bark peeling
underneath is naked earth
underneath lies this core of my spacious space
radio just sort of lays it on thick, a bit better, a bit,
sometimes a lot, when I go full swing
my power to manipulate like absract mathmatic covert-
lies in my ability not to let on too much
because deep down i’ve just been lying-dammit!
to imagine Jessica and Joel
in one car riding this washed up wave of oblivian
becoming rather boring
as I discover this innate intelligence is just
repeated tape recorder cycle, that like a jestor or broken record
brings me up and down
and overloads reactions, sometimes nervous to my thinking
about thinking, toying mental marxism-throw away just among physical anarchism
my worries, about blank-and seriousness, well
now that we are close to nuclear war, new clear vision
is needed, not specific
clarity of a blue lake in your eyes....
See, I am not a dog,
and don’t claim to be real easy to dig
Infact I am intentionally, intro-mystic inside,
and i’m not going to wear my heart on my sleave
don’t really try to be fully hip, to all they say...
they is well they....those ordinaries who save lives
they saved my life,
in the rock dry hard mountains of Maine
above the glowing mist black town, bright lights
factories overlooking river...smoke explosion..neon....like say...ghosts experession
not explaining, right away
I’ve been told, by educateds
I am depressed, wondering unable to focus, just sort of
stublimg unintentionally, trying to explemifly this
existential metaphor, let’s say commonplace Jack Kerouac and such, just
giving a vivid metaphor, laugh.....
that I am extreme in one hemisphere.
Ha! I am extreme!!
<a href="#top">Back to Index </a>