Monday, February 01, 2010

ADVANCING ON SATORI

Been waiting all night 
to hear your poetry, I said 
You’re that beat generation 
spewin that heat and light
Pure energy, that scene 
You were on the bus or off it 
I should’ve been there 
with ya’ all back then 

You were hardly born then, you answered 
probably just born in tha sixties 
No, I said, I could’a been there 
I was born in ‘50 
I shoulda’ been there 
But somehow I never went anywhere 

I admit it tho, 
I wanted to Be On The Road. 
And one day I almost took 
The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test 
But on that day, I was absent from life. 

I should’a been there 
But somehow I never went anywhere 
I cud tell you sometime, ya said 
why you never went anywhere 

You, with your omnipotent self 
How would you know anyway? 
I wondered, Did ya really know 
why I never left home? 
It was a prison 
     built of fear 
         loneliness 
             emptiness and despair 

I never had a life 
A child’s needs unmet 
never given what I longed for 

I couldn’t have what wasn’t there 
Fuck it, I’ll say it, it was 
     abuse, neglect 
     comes in so many forms 
        eats away your self esteem 
Made me weak, 
     slow, scared to go 
Robbed me of my faith, 
     my soul, my glow 

My inner harmony, 
     my sanctity 
     my sanity
I was a prisoner of fear, 
     a prisoner of war. 

I met you, read your sixties words 
your suffuse charm 
emanating from your Hobo soul 

I wanted to possess your poetry 
    your style 
         the 60’s and the 70’s 
         poetry of hope 
         An air of romance 
         a taste of escape 

A breath of fresh air 
     from a smog-filled street 
     the smoke and stink 
     rising slowly like gases 
     from the filthy pavement 
I was a prisoner of war 

Your words bring back the time ... 
Words like book, crib, jibe 
a stone’s throw away 
the sun low-fives the trees 

God damn! Your words excite me 
    Sex talk, like poontang, tallywhacker. 
    Wow man, I never heard it, 
But it’s cool, I understand it. 

Your blatantly primitive lust 
your licentious eyes
devouring me 

Staring at my sagging breasts 
cruising over my body 
    smoothly, 
as though it were highway 59 
Resting on my nipples 
    tingling 
like a jellied door buzzer 
my fallen butt and 
orange peel thighs 

Only served to fuel your lust 
my allure waved strong 
snagged by your naked desire, 
    your lust 

as you gorged on my scent 
teasing my libido 
A test in trust 

Your tongue flicked against your upper lip 
What’re ya’ havin’ babe, ya’ said 
No thanks, refused the drink 
Been waitin all night to hear your poem 

a moment abundant with heat 
stifling humidity 
complaints about intensity 
panties clinging damply 

Unbearable, prolonged 
I want to hear the poem 
my date languishing in time Y
our glass passed to my hand 
Contact, your eyes implored 
    lust and soul 

Give me sixties or give me death 
symbols of peace, 
Baby you’ve got heart, 
Go with the flow 
no looking back 
no sorrows or regrets 
resolute to recreate 
a life renewed
reincarnate 
more chances to fulfill the goal 
Don’t hesitate 
Go on! Get on the road 
Don’t worry if the bus is full 

Symmetry of faith 
advancing on satori 
will get you there 
    explore, 
search for more 
no more prisoners of war 

First published in 1995 in Grist on Line one of the first online poetry mags that came into being. At that time several people accused me of being a "post modernist" and I had no idea what that was so or more importantly who it included. I immediately began reading post modernists to understand what I was being accused of.  I couldn't format this right for blogger but on the linked version above, the formatting is correct. This poem is a throwback to the sixties generation

3 comments:

  1. Hi ,

    We are the world's first multi lingual poetry portal .Our endeavor is to promote poetry reading /writing in various languages.

    You are an awesome writer.Really loved your poems. Do login and post as you may be depriving a lot of people the opportunity to appreciate your artistry with words.


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  2. "Accused" of post modernism, there are worse things to be associated with I should assume. Beautifully well written, and a reminder of what self exploration is really about.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I agree, beautifully written. You add deep insights into your poetry.

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