Monthly Archives: September 2012
Kandinsky and The Russian House
Internet Nostalgia and Time (and Time Again)
Internet Nostalgia and Time (and Time Again).
Never safe and always raising a point Noah S Kaplowitz
Vending Machine: Poetry For Change Vol 2
A free download anthology with me in it from Poets Haven so go on download and make a donation to a food bank in your area. http://www.poetshaven.com/bookcontents.php?section=18&page=3
http://www.poetshaven.com/bookcontents.php?section=18&page=3
Waiting In Line
frosted lens one secret eye,
it’s time almost gone,
other vibrant blue watery,
she waited to be served
packaged meals enough for
a few days,
tremors with age
cellular collapse,
life’s abrupt stoop to spine,
coat drawn snug,
cold reaches more easily
through mottled paper,
her turn,
trolley a support to feet
more unsteady than an infant,
red leather handbag
leather fashion for forty years
cracked and glazed,
pleased to talk to the assistant
juddering conversation,
sprawled out topics of conversation
no linear trail,
topics of weather,
her husband passed twenty years,
lack of pension,
always broke,
children dispersed seed unconnected
and when she was younger
flew planes in the Pacific
a job few knew of,
no government medal,
yet she offered her life
as she did now to survival,
gnarled arthritic hands
struggled with notes and coins
tomorrow a fragile
premise
20th Century Cento
you must be the change you wish to see in the world,
for those who think your light is too bright,
feeling good as lovers can, you know,
i’ll be clickin by your house about two forty five,
that’s why i had to get my khaki’s pressed,
by the hot sun emptied, blistered and dried,
to the man who only has a hammer,
everything he encounters begins to look like a nail,
there are no facts only interpretations,
two forty five came and passed to four fifty two,
he did not stop by
heard it from a friend who, heard it from another,
but it was only rumor and suggestion,
flowers for the day,
to make amends,
no need to hammer there is only peace
and in embrace khaki’s grass stained,
love found splendor and forgiveness in truth.
dramatis personae
Line One- Gandhi
Line Two -Cat Forsley a great Canadian singer and musician
Line Three- Panic At The Disco !
Line Four-Tom Waits
Line Five -Frank Zappa
Line Six -Rudyard Kipling
Line Seven and Eight – Abraham Maslow
Line Nine -Me
Line Ten -REO Speedwagon
Line Eleven to Sixteen – is all Me
Gadfly Bitter
three fucking sides,
all contained by Maslow,
cornered that abstraction of my mind,
my motivation
was self actualization,
rather than messy physiological,
i had no need for pain
searing transmutable feeling,
textured and phrased in life,
physiological was her
to be excreted from my mind
before that word of babies
and the pushing of a pram,
her ideal not mine,
she saw life in colors,
emotional spectrum that concluded
fear, willpower and hope,
i had reacted to none of these
probably made each more defined
in the lethargy of my words,
battle lines layered down
indivisible by touch,
peace a searing brand
upon my buttocks,
it would winter away,
lilac time was coming,
there in my own identity,
things would not burn
or boil into steam,
forget her now
left to that sound inertia.
http://newworldcreativeunion.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/nwcu-wednesday-wake-up-call-wwuc-260912_26.html
Subtraction From
in the obstinate realm
of flightless thought,
a man may lay down
finding all muscles non compliant,
he had a chance
that possibility to extract
a thought chick from the nest,
without down stark uninteresting
pallid pink nothing
with voracious appetite,
cast away
all limits remain,
lust , love and desire
three traps set for him
all ensnaring,
have caught him
escape an alternative
only accomplished with thought,
yet he could not think,
each entice
her whisper,
a touch upon bare flesh,
the merest smile,
beguiled, her medusa words
turn flesh to stone,
marble for her own touch
contoured to her own wanting
it was her savor,
not his
a phallic model of molecular degeneration,
reduced to base instincts and constructs,
he was for her
and her alone