GeorgeBraque's Billiard TableGeorge Braque’s Billiard Table.GeorgeBraque's Billiard Table
The pool table sits in front. It is the first thing you see from all angles. Bent sideways and back to give you just the right perspective to lure you in. How perfect.
There is a game going, an extra cue stick. Come and play under the ornate hanging lamps.
The décor keeps you wondering
what you are going to see next
And is it from their left or from their right? Let me tell you now lest you worry, The lines going every which way don’t really mean anything. This is the wall. This
is the c
-waiting to be inspired-What is it exactly, that I am supposed to see? When will I see things anew? Certainly not now Looking out at mundane ceilings. 3 bulbs and a creamy sky.-waiting to be inspired-
There\'s hardly poetry in the foreign lamp. The lace of my grandma\'s best. Flowers. Pretty and pink. (let me spit out the words) Surely nothing can flow from Open suitcases Dirty socks Worn down jeans Maybe tomorrow I will see a new day
of new things. Things you promised
Guitar PetalsGUITAR PETALSGuitar Petals
A generation of madness Pooled in jazz & naked individuality, Rebel pianists playing with street cars And sexuality, Columbia boys
Doing LSD and pot While they make statements about America and the inevitable corruption,
The exorbitant exhaustion sucking down their souls, Lungs filled with fuel for going,
Here we are again, Referring to San Fran as if we've always lived there Sitting in the back seat of our thoughts As we listen to violins, it's raining, Girls talking about how they only want a
Boy with a brain cell and how
All Her PrettyShe opens the door to let me in and asks me to excuse the mess. I've already forgotten about it, I've known her for years. Her hands are black with charcoal and her hair is lank against her face, having been unwashed for days. I know her aquatic eyes, as if she had been a mermaid in a past life and still longed to return to the water. She dumps her daughter into my arms and heads for the paint hidden in the corner, moving like a rat that's just found a way out of its cage. I attempt to console Emily, trying to heal her damaged heart. It's useless though, all she wants is her mother and a little security. There are piles of clothes everywhere,All Her Pretty
The Sight of FallThe woman behind the desk Hands me a form and tells me, It'll only be a while.The Sight of Fall
Check off all that apply Eating disorder, depression, pregnancy, restlessness We're all here under the same sun Where nothing's ever light and the jukebox Is always playing one of those cheesy sixties songs, While you write your soul off on the walls with blue chalk, [there's nothing like the feeling
Of being eraseable]
She tells me to sit down. She says depression Like it's Christmas instead of a four-letter word That says too little and mean
paralyzed by aestheticsMy magic is fading Eclipsed by a sunset of chinese lamps; I'm lost for words; The flow of imagery sputters out Like uneven ink from the fountain pen Blotting on your tax returnsparalyzed by aesthetics
What can i say
When everything smells like October And looks like drunken bonfires on the gravel? You spill your vodka and apple cider Onto crunchy amber leaves And the beauty of it makes you cry
Nothing comes to mind Except that it must have been autumn When god made the choice To put music in our souls. We are god's warriors, we poets Onward! On
Rewetting of a dry sponge
Amidst the regular rises and falls,
I hope life is going well for you.
Christ keep.
--
I'm in a "hi" mood tonight.
And besides, I haven't spoken to you in a long time anyway.
By the way, I've been thinking of posting some of my older poems just for kicks, and because maybe somebody will appreciate them (wouldn't that be amusing?). I haven't gotten around to it. Mostly because I don't care enough. Alas. Alas. Alas.
By the way, if you post anything new, I'll check it out. Or anything I haven't read that I might have missed, but you'd particularly want a comment on. I'd surely get to it...eventually.
Anyway, hope you are well. Later.
--
I can't do this all on my own.
--
I can't do this all on my own.
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bboy4life!
a l l e r y [link]
_p e a c e . . .
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