portland independent media center  
images audio video
newswire article

arts and culture

poetry

open unpublished poetry
10/13/02
1.
Parting is like metal dust
Pale rotting rust
Swept like footsteps
Rapping on concrete strings and keys
From beneath thunder crept
Volcanous clouds decry
Fleeting fledgling stillborn beneath
Golden whispers, promises, and joy.

2.
Recall silver rivers spreading
Rushing down the molten shores
Evenings driven through irredescent meadows
Autumn's laughter upon crimson mores

Gently chasing in the morning
Twilight's shadow gaze a warning
Stolen glances beyond redress
Emerald fields moistened with crystalline dew
Endless dawn of caress

Storm's fury burning
Heaving lurches into quiet
Parting lips violently yearning
Timeless abandon, warcraft and forget.
you are probably a wonderful painter 14.Oct.2002 03:37

butt for goadsake

STAY AWAY FROM WORDS unless you wanna learn to take 'm seriously (one cannot really be funny if the fun doesn't form in the way teeth put into fruit is)

thou shalt not take the word of dust in vein

firethere the sun and the halo cast onmen. (Finnegan's wake)

care to visit the dustiest site on earth????
Ps? I realize this will end up in the dustbin but I'm all for composting.


Poets corner? 14.Oct.2002 10:50

Heck mbthink@hotmail.com

Aknowledge the gravity
the delema that draws us
hot like tamales
smack

concrete to dicipline
look to commons
for visions of seers
people that live in a
box

state's like a hard rain
that comes from the ground
pervasive as pervasive
get

guerilla's make sounds
some mimic with joy
to gather thier nets
and cast
up

Dynamite is a grin
Hot as broken laws
oooh like ice cream
now

2jacks and dickinson 14.Oct.2002 13:42

migrating bird

One Jack Poem from the Book Of Blues

Even Joyce

Even he, Joyce,
had love-
Even blind poets


2eyed Jack poem from the Book of Blues

Emily Dickinson

Ere so sober Emily
Did New England sow
With brooms of activity
I'd the tree-rock spoken to.
But it only said to me
"This sleet's crack
You hear cracking my hide
Is the voice of olden poets
Not far from rocks of here
Did their olden eyes
On nature bestow blues
_" I said
"Ah Oh How So Sad."

I said-"And Graves?"
And I said "Darling
Supposing it should
To nature
Suddenly Occur
To make unending poets
Unendingly Blow"

Nature Said: "Mean,
I dont know what you
Mean"-
"Ah Nature, Ah Rock,"
I cried, "Nobody's Bone
Has so suffused been,
No burden of boredom
Greater
No love colder
No love life less
No grave nearer
Always
Than Ye Bard"

End Jack Kerouac Poems

Emily Dickinson speaks


1863

Such is the Force of Happiness
The Least- can lift a Ton
Assisted by its stimulus-

Who Misery-sustain-
No sinew can afford-
The Cargo of Themselves-
Too infinite for Consciousness
Slow capabilities.

quoth Emily 15.Oct.2002 17:13

everyoneinthisworldisdoingsomethingwithoutme

----------------------------------------------------------------
"a wish
that we might ramble away
as children
and forget these many years
and these sorrowing cares
and each become
a child again"

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{quote, poet Emily Dickinson}}}}}}}}}}}}}