| Joshua Griffin Poetry 2 |
| Swiss Poem Account Collection |
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| O sacrilege O sacrilege, my name is yours-- over frozen tundras through blankets' heat I call you mine I call you "home" HERE I stand, amidst scheme and swine eyeing disdain arrays of pilgrimage and scandal- O sacrilege, my FATE belongs to you. Through Capsized destiny on rocky waters, on tidal wave ripples of deceit I walk to you-- sing your song of praise with bending knee vigil sacrifice with out-stretched arms of embrace-- pulling wire flush against flesh screaming idolatry here & there. Worship my veins-- deep within.... FEEL my nervous heart POUNDING against your skin on this alter of nothing, this place of lies. |
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| Dulouz Dream Pentup beat-up jalopy-- red car cruise at night, howling through the wind over gravelbump roads on some, on some deserted highway street rev of engine, yell of human-- gutteral groans, animalistic spasms, echoing to the stars and back to us, jack, back back to us, rip roaring timedimension-- a tear in proverbial window, blocking here and there-- here here everywhere to look nothing to see BLACKNESS surrounds, headlights lamping lights a map (overhead shot, tire squeal, peal out) Going there, "some where" we say, he say, hear you say "over there" just....there, spatting this fixation, this Dulouz dream of mine-- my time Fly by...time flys by-- hours are minutes and words are jumble, mumbles in the twisttongue night |
| Allen Ginsberg (dream 1) glassy beard, in the parlance of our times, splayed out, in covered blanketed chair and wild-eye smirky smile saying, "Yes, Yes, I know I know" to the standing straggler just beyond the door, in the room, a solitary window, sun rays prisming in on the bulb dangling from waterstained ceiling-- "Come Come" with brilliant movement arm arch, "Sit Sit" and sit I did, down next to Him. Dog bark from alley way-- across the way, mangy mutt sings his song, barks his mood and waits for masters return... There, center room (camera pan right tight close up lips) mouth in motion, reciting verse from volumes and brandy snifter in tow, dangling belt loop thumb curl-- hand in pocket; Drink a drink of freshmint, cool whipped topping refreshing cool drinky drink-- drink drunk...gone wasted in slides down the gullet. Singer mother, divorcee-- leaning out the window in some dreamtrance, deep stare towards Earth, t'wards the garbage, black, bags down below-- blow wind blow through her hair, as we, Allen and I, laugh and stare. September 2001 |
| Composure Oh Life, oh sinful wretch of time, waste my time and force a smile as I traverse these pathways without regret. Take my wit, take my humor, in your hand ball it up and toss it, spilt salt, over a left shoulder shrug tonight. Oh Me, where can I go, and where will I be? when the earth halts it's spin? when the grass grows brown rather than green? When the monsters turn their snarls to me, how shall I be seen? Shall I be seen as the brute sitting here? or as an equal to them with spitfire breath and razor claws that rip the fabric clean? On This street my own two feet deceive my eyes and my own two ears hear nothing there-- nothing save push and shove of sandal soles. My touch touches nothing, touches air, touches out reaches out for life. My nose sniffs sulfur fumes rising from below, spread out among the trees and blowing in the wind fumigating the world in dusty death-- I walk alone on this pathway, dotted with yellow, specked with red, splattered with experience-- Where do I call home when home is far behind, in my mind I DO LEAVE! In my own mind my thoughts do betray, my feelings leave me hungry and burning, sick to the stomach, with wanton craving. Oh promiscuous demons, Oh vile creature living within, SHOW yourself! and take it all away. Leave behind your dragging tail trail, carry away the cadavers of youth, carry away the innocence of life! Who am I but a brute among soulless spirits? I but wonder here; passing through this window of space. Who am I but a crazy-eyed maniac of words and thoughts as I run out of town, of fuel, of money, of desire. Oh God, look down upon an unbelieving churl and forgive this verse and take it away, take these words, take these liberties TAKE THEM AWAY. Look upon my soul with pointed finger staring down, scold my mockery, scold my sin-- stay locked inside, stay cold within; care not for me, care not care not for I am done, I am spent through. Here, as I lay my swollen eyes upon this pillow, covered in blankets, covered in sweat, my taste leaves, my sight cannot see, My brain cannot think! where to begin. |
| Poem Account Poets joshua griffin wylde Barry Fitton Craig Moore panta rhei Paul Kren Orphicgoblin Jota judih |
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