father see’s a mothers red tears
embrace and hold
together as one
a son’s anger,
quick flash phosphorous
explosive and regrettable
yet change occurs
a fathers eyes,
become so different
lens of caution
draws over cornea
digging hands in pockets
remaining apart
unsure of the person
he helped create,
yesterday would not be
recovered,
it was hauled
into the dark subconscious
stored in a file
tentative regeneration
but there would be
a difference now
apes have insight as seen
under the soft winds of tenerife,
man as another ape
also has insight to convey and
express through brain chemistry,
we share flexible hands
that in wisconsin built ceramic wares
that ape with flexible parts
would use to dispose and hide
bodily waste
not wiped with leaves and buried,
food and the toilet
an inexhaustible amount of
links between,
we feed we shit we betray
the toilet the ape the man
intrigue of mind
not understanding what is real
correlation of brain and development
would introspection
come into play,
ceramic beauty and form
cupping arse to excrete,
apes missed out on porcelain desire
white shining cold,
yet who has developed
we watch we learn we betray
emotions significant part,
bare red ringed arse
bare flushed mating arse
under kohler one and kohler two
we have become that unshakeable
being of flesh fur behavior
dynamics of a wild innocence
that sees things so differently
as we see of each other
anthropometrics of form and mind
everything classified
as in information,
encrypted distorted betrayed
told only by the apes that lead
the higher beings
naked suited alone
you food preacher,
man of spatula skills
appear on lcd tv
and tell us of our food
our lifestyle,
congested lungs and stomach
and inability to feed ourselves,
the benefit louche
and disposable low income,
our world has no michelin stars
siting over
wild tarragon and mussels
instead kebabs or chip shop,
waste of money to some
but we need to live as well
already ghettoized
by paparazzi
obese and slovenly,
try finding money for electric
meter
or 52 inch tv,
we are human remember
lives of our own
and those to be born,
stigmata
of minimum wage
and rent overpriced,
come into our world
if you must
but do not preach or condemn
you can never understand
Jamie Oliver
31p Cornflakes
iron blanket drawn
over graveyards shoulder,
time grizzles in the wind,
on haunches leaving flowers
new ones that repair the vase
to a certain brightness,
tattooed hand
pores darkened by labor
fingers stained by cigarette,
a tear would not fall
enough had shown at the time,
those fingers took a kiss
pressed it to headstone
no inhibition
despite the rumors that had become
a fiction contorted on nights breath,
driven within hours
in a landscape changing
mesh of community falling
into disrepair,
his longing had seen violence
memory carried weapons
and he could only think of
retribution,
slate wiped of all marks
that defined a normal history,
he still had a key
that room there own,
now cleansed and let to someone
else,
he visited sometimes
walking amongst others possessions
picturing his own
and her blood
scarring the walls
he fled those vicissitudes
and hid in the parables
that spread like marmalade
over his life,
as an intrinsic alchemist
transforming the jewels
that drew light into her eyes
nymphlike was not always,
she kissed his lyre
and lingered on the notes
crouched mouth to mouth
the dust of longness
passed between them
hands often released
and time again became frail
his tremors sounded as trumpets
with impossible sobbing
a deep reconciliation
a finger of saffron stained
the tongue
and wafted in embrace
yet he could no more
and neither she
amazed at speech carnivals
that wound words over
rolling track
pirouetting horses dance
to an inconvenient truth,
he listened to the stars
and read long passages
delirious now that it was
divisible,
tomorrow became perpetual
sinuous flow
word of the day your favorite word i got carried away again so i hope it works as i have not been functioning so well recently , all the best
The media we look to them for our news , incisive articles and the best our arts have to offer, well NO it is changing and two things fueled this piece one the Chicago Sun Times says it is doing away with book reviews http://goodereader.com/blog/electronic-readers/do-we-really-need-book-reviews/ and on the BBC Morning show recently they interviewed the rapper Dizzee Rascal and one question he was asked referred to the intrusion of journalists in his life, his response was that they have to as they are part of the entertainment culture since when have journalists been entertainers is media falling into one big trap of celebrity and gossip , it will no longer have relevance already i see celebrity pregnancies reported before news articles they have slipped down the chain , international news dwindles i guess our social networks are now filling the gap, people journalism blogs and dedicated sites , i have to admit i do enjoy picking up a newspaper but by the time you have eradicated adverts, celebrity and gossip what is left and on tv analyze what you see, it is slipping us by. Another response to Dizzee would be seeing journalists on Survivor and other reality tv , journalists are not entertainers or celebrities they report our society as it is ,they give us the information we maybe cannot find orselves.
One scenario a country with a troubled government , the population will know more of Jessica Simpsons pregnancy and the latest nipple slip than who is governing and this is dangerous we still need to be informed knowledge is an asset not a luxury let some sensibility return
light a match to see the day,
clouds have darkened us now
pages from an idle press
avoid the subject of our lives
tender kiss an infants hand
and look into its eyes,
beyond the womb
we are still occupants
figuring out where we stand,
they tell us in a filtered way
we listen, then realise
the answer will be no
bread mops up gravy
but is no good for pain
TV shows give us reality
but that is idle noise,
we have seen as clouds
stripped back
the ugly beast created
by greed and negligence,
now raise your hands
and raise your voice
the light is upon us
Boris Strugatsky 1933-2012
i was sad to hear Boris Strugatsky had died, joining Arkady who died in 1991 , both now physically lost yet their minds and words live on.
For me Roadside Picnic which became Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker was a landmark especially as i saw it as a double bill with Solaris , watching for me was an expansion of the mind i did not fear or contract from subject and length, so much of the analogy that our world has been visited is true to the extent of our ruination of this world and the traps we set both physical and psychological that have been the rise and fall of our civilizations and also so much was said of culture and politics.
Red Schuhart is a great character as the Stalker or scout wandering the zones finding pieces to sell illegally that aliens may of left behind we also have the horrors of children growing deformed and the dead rising i could go on but say get the book watch the film and immerse yourself in the genius of the Strugatsky’s.
watch Stalker http://archive.org/details/Stalker_891
and to read Roadside Picnic
http://www.scribd.com/doc/93724979/Arkady-and-Boris-Strugatsky-Roadside-Picnic
Terry S Amstutz
dead flaked walls,
i breathed there
my fear saw the grey plaster
with gun at my side,
ears distilled sounds
a gunshot,
sirens and screaming,
my unmended nature
by sociological discourse,
returned fire,
i hit someone,
who.. i did not know,
body temperature raised
clammy trickle down my back,
this was my trap
one exit only,
sometimes i wish i listened
but chose not to,
shouts down the hallway
torches and light,
light attached to guns,
robbery no excuse
to evade poverty,
now i was fallen
and unreachable,
lifting gun hand
i knew what to do
@dVersePoets with Terry S Amstutz
velvetmedia 