Poems

The Poet

The boy who lost his mother gnarled like a bear—
tough bear he

But away from the bestial
he had softness in his eyes—
they laughed even when he and his words were sharp
and sometimes ambiguous

He showed the plumpness of his belly to his closest friends
and grunted like a pig and poet
laughing behind his scars
with eagerness to taste color from afar

He took from the sunglow like an artist hunched at his easel
and painted everyone—
even the ones who had no power to imagine

He painted deaf-mutes with love that ran down his breast
ripping chords from the constellations
and opening creation’s ingenious blindness
to music that volleyed beyond his art that transcended ages
and volleys still
in us all

Photo Credit:
 John Lennon

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My Tangerine Days, Poems

Tense Silence (Alone Revisited)

Tense silence in my bedroom but not in my head
Heavenly hymns hum from fingers strumming
Sweet music from songs in mind

Trembling chords of delightful tension certainly make this moment more attractive

I find a new discovery and add it to old ones
But no one sees the babe I’ve become
I have no shivers for you to see
Yet everyone shivers out there within a city in the cold
In a watching darkness that shivers in the night
Where bursts of alley sounds skitter deep in the gutters
Behind old men taking flight with paper bag angels
Far below shivers heaving warm on musicians erupting volcanically in my head
Amidst tense silence in my bedroom where all the doors and windows are closed

Stories, This Blue Pen

Devil Music

Dana skipped out on going to the heavy-metal rock concert. Her mother’s church had her believing that the concert would exhort the crowd to rape and murder. Rock and roll music had always been the catalyst of evil; she’d been told this repeatedly over the years by her mother. Even the innocent-looking Beatles of the early 1960s were spawned from Satanic cults entwined in international drug trade. They—those dapper lads from Liverpool—were the beginning of a larger scheme, immersed in drugs and controlled by mob-connected promoters to eliminate Judeo-Christian civilization.

Dana’s grandmother Evelyn, or Evie to her friends, had been there in jazz clubs in England and West Germany, in the seediest part of the cities, amongst prostitution and drug use. Evie—barely a teenager—worked as a stripper behind red-lit windows where the sex was plenty… and easy to purchase. She knew The Beatles in Hamburg, knew their music, took their pills and drank their best alcohol. She followed them to London where prostitution was not as easy. She dated a musician, Axel Ziegler—a Teddy Boy and ex-Nazi Party member who gave her drugs and the clap and introduced her to witchcraft and Satanism.

Axel wasn’t rich but he managed several dance clubs and had money. He knew The Rolling Stones and liked their brash appearance. The Stones, as they were called, were “disgraceful, long-haired lummoxes” as opposed in comparison to the well-groomed Beatles. But both groups were part of a Satanic movement set to destroy the very fabric of a stable society and its divine institutions. By 1966, John Lennon had claimed The Beatles “more popular than Jesus now.” He said, “Christianity will go, it will vanish and shrink. I needn’t argue about that. I’m right and will be proved right.” By December 1967, Evie wondered in her diary if it was true. The following Sunday she took her seven-year-old daughter Rebekka to the neighborhood Catholic church for Christmas mass. Her friends and Axel attended the Process Church, a satanic cult that Axel called “Acid In The Grass.” The name came from Stones member Bill Wyman’s song, “In Another Land” from the recently released album, Their Satanic Majesties Request. That night, Axel had a pipped out drug trip. It began with whiskey at the local pub before he turned to LSD with some friends. He went home high with his friends and they crashed in his parlor around one o’clock. Alone, he injected his body with heroin. He died around 4 a.m.

During the following year Evie and Rebekka lived with a dee-jay/musician named Aldrid Little. Aldrid had befriended Axel in Hamburg and became a partner member of dance clubs in Hamburg and London. When Aldrid was at Hamburg and Evie wasn’t stoned on pot, the calling of Christ weighed heavily upon her mind. In her diary, she wondered why Jesus would want an English whore—one who practiced witchcraft—in his flock? She wrote on her birthday that she was ashamed of her appearance naked in an issue of The Process Magazine for the church against God; having orgies with devoted disciple, Kenneth Anger, a follower of Aleister Crowley: the proclaimed founding father of modern Satanism; and participating in a Black Mass. But getting high and having sex, it seems, buried those self-hatreds. For a while.

By the early 1970s, the world outside of Evie’s bedroom was still a mess. The Beatles had disbanded, “Kenny” as she called Anger, was filming shorts about Satanic rituals, and one of his actors and homosexual lover, Bobby Beausoleil, was serving a life sentence in prison along with Charles Manson for a series of murders that included model/actress Sharon Tate. The police were cracking down on drug users and had arrested Aldrid twice in 1973 for possession of marijuana. In 1974, fifteen-year-old Rebekka ran away from home. Evie frantically searched for her only child for five months. During that time she vowed to become a devout Chritian if Rebekka was found alive. She was, though pregnant. She would lose the baby in a miscarriage. Evie kept her promise to God. She left Aldrid and England and moved Rebekka to Chicago. The following year, Rebekka also found salvation.

Years later, Rebekka married a minister and had a daughter of her own. “I don’t want you going to that rock concert,” Rebekka told Dana.

Dana did not argue. She went to her bedroom and listened to music on her iPod. The music was Christian Rock. The praises were to God, but the music came from Satan. She swallowed the ecstasy tablet kept hidden with the others behind her bed’s headboard. Then she masturbated to the poster of Disciple. When she came she took another tablet. Then another. Each time, she stared longingly into the eyes of Kevin Young. She would wait for him in Heaven.

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Poems, This Blue Pen

Tense Silence (Alone Again)

Tense silence in my bedroom but not in my bed
Heavenly hymns hum from fingers strumming
Pressing down hot on me
Playing music’s sweet songs in my head

Trembling lines of delightful tension certainly make this moment more attractive

I find a new discovery and add it to old ones
But no one sees the babe I’ve become
No one comes inside my room but me
I have no shivers for you to see
Yet everyone shivers out there within a city in the cold
In a watching darkness that shivers in the night
Where bursts of alley sounds skitter deep in the gutters
Behind old men taking flight with paper bag angels
Far below my shivers that heave warm on musicians erupting volcanically in my head
Amidst tense silence in my bedroom where all the doors and windows are closed

Save