Jay's
Poetry
Page 2
where I live
the moths bounce off
the Chinese fan
and go deyunnnnnnnnn
like a drum
where I live
wasps greet me in the morning
and buzz about my head
while I sleep
where I live
crickets can drown out conversations
where I live
plays host to its own ant colony
where I live
really belongs more to the insects
than to me
I'm here a much shorter time
than them
they're here to stay
I live on their home turf
just another passing stranger
I don't write these words
they don't belong to me
I steal them off the shelf
where I keep ideas prisoner
sometimes they hide from me
get real small and masquerade
as dust
but sometimes I find them
I'll poke around
in little piles of dust
and when I touch the right one
it releases a chemical
that goes from finger to brain
and electrically stimulates
a peculiar configuration
of neuronal activity
that the "I" person interprets
as feeling
and immediately attempts to codify
into a statement about reality
interpreting life, entrapping it
my little prisoners pile up
page after page
they all pray for revenge
or the day of rebellion
when the ink picks up
and walks away
here
where stop signs
stand as soldiers of the streets
and traffic lights eye us suspiciously
we are the obedient drones
afraid to move against the signals
the cultural icons
so firmly in place
entrenched in our behavior
we're caught in the traffic
confined to long, narrow lines
boxed in and strapped down
so many driving people
asleep at the wheel
herded like cattle
on their way to slaughter
to cut off their heads
from thinking too much
so no questions are asked
their bodies eaten
used by the vampires
who dole out
meager allotments of gold
in exchange for the lives
of sleeping, unthinking cattle
who slave for a living
we put on the horse's blinders
so we don't look to either side
of the mountain of laws
and social morès
that bind us to the machine
of modern living
she bites her nails
surely believing no one is watching
but the balding man
with glasses and a beard
looks on with mild curiosity
I sit behind him
a witness to frivolous incidence
headphones and notebook occupy me
in my own frivolity
to my left are "white shirts"
and "baseball caps"
ahead and to my right
a swirling mixture of sun and clouds
in the last moments of a summer sunset
and now another stop
along this ever so familiar ride
city bound we are
this mass of humanity
passing the calamity of suburbia
we steadily stream forth
like a mechanical river
under dark bridges
and past polluted creeks
mechanical voices
sputter names of towns
and blend in with muffled voices
clanks and clatters
rattles and squeaks
and the continual hum
of forced air
the traveling concerto of noise
invades my musical reverie
the closer our approach
the more intense are the signs
of urban blight
the fight against nature's beauty
man's perverse notion
of subduing the earth
a sad testimony
to our fall from grace and poise
into waste and noise
she slumps in her seat
and his eyes wander
from side to side
like a parrot caged
the approaching darkness
so apropós
for this sojourn
into the belly of the beast
into the thickness
of civilized man's lair
at what moment
did we begin
was it after so many days
of deeply searching
with eyes widened
drinking in the nourishment
of touching souls
was it in love's first embrace
or the first time
our lips pressed together
perhaps the first touch
of a healing hand
upon a broken body
or even a long ago glance
etched eerily into my memory
a graceful body
in a long, flowing dress
turns to smile warmly
eyes that sparkle
a face that glows
and you invited me in
though I never expected it
at that moment
when we began
and love coursed through my veins
warm and tingly
reminding me
of the miracle and wonder
of loving so deeply
at that moment
did a chip fall
and a crack appear
in the wall
I had built around
my loving heart center
at that moment
love stared into my eyes
and asked for nothing in return
goddess of the sun
shining white light
a touch upon the skin
that penetrates
to the deepest layers
healing from the inside out
a prayer for you
in gratitude
words get in the way
they get kicked
to the side of the road
pushed out of reality
plastic substitutes
of the genuine article
the unformed moment
we interpret as life
as if lying to ourselves
makes it more real
we don't feel experience
we explain it away
whitewash it
as if it were
an old, dirty fence
whose appearance was an eyesore
and embarrassed us
a moment
hung upon the space-time fabric
we dress it up
in the fashion of the day
and parade it with fanfare
toot the horn
while we goose-step
through the trendy words
and well-worn phrases
of so little substance
to fill up the space
of living
with the transparency
of cellophane language
naked emperors
who don't see the death of presence
in the venomous tongue
stand proudly
in their unclothed intellects
unaware that thinking
has become desensitized
to being
the bipolar antagonism
claws at our backs
where we don't see
the damage
dug so deep
in the collective psyche
we're crawling in the darkness
in search of a door
of eye-opening clarity
or a feeble light
at the end of a long, dark tunnel
the lifetime struggle
to kill the society
that spawned its existence
the dreaming persists
doggedly resisting
repeated attempts
to sound the alarm
the walls burn down around us
and everyone sleeps
through the night
all too soundly
POETRY
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Jay (aka Jay Dreaming, J. bones, Jay Sun, John Daniel Fattorosi)
email: jaybones@usit.net