Like stick shifts, hubcaps and service station bells; Esso, Union '76, Pure...
I see them from a boy's keen-eyed viewpoint.
I study their look and speaking voice; worn out hands and worn in faces.
The junkyard visits with my Father where Greasy Gene stood larger than life, wearing Red Man stained bib overalls, one giant hand holding a wad of money and another taking money from younger guys like my Father; buying brake drums or sealed beams or thin strips of chromed moldings.
A T rex named Rex sitting silently, obediently and knowingly by his side.
"Don't ever call Mr. Cheek Greasy Gene to his face" my Father would say. "Why" I asked. "It's disrespectful', he replied. I puzzled. "And don't mess with Rex".
When you're a little boy a magnificent German Shepherd taller than you is quite the heart locker. Maybe even if you're not a little boy.
No shepherd like a good. shepherd...
I'm there now, on the way home, clunking along in my Father's 1948 Dodge pickup. Flat head. Wooden bed.
The feel of that bench seat, The smells and the sounds...
My Father double-clutching and grind-shifting gears.
"Why", I ask. "What would happen if you didn't shift gears"?
"Then your engine would blow up" he replied, "and you won't be able to get anywhere."
My Pop had his way to express things. They passed along with him. Right through me...
In all the selves and all the dreams In all the lightning moments The reaching upward falling out A latent shard there foments
The hollow plow the fallow how the greenless barren furrow a dread forked maze with empty gaze The fragrant earthen burrow
Along a linen line the mists and in the glaring sun amidst the listing vessels burning gift a swollen stinking sinking rift Sew seed where the sounds are kissed...
I'd do that in a major scale, though, not minor!
(If you like to talk about it, feel free to PM me.)
I'll have to edit for clarity lol. I think I hear the bass line...
In all the selves and all the dreams In all the lightning moments The reaching upward falling out A latent shard there foments
The hollow plow the fallow how the greenless barren furrow a dread forked maze with empty gaze The fragrant earthen burrow
Along a linen line the mists and in the glaring sun amidst the listing vessels burning gift a swollen stinking sinking rift Sew seed where the sounds are kissed...
Come sit down beside me I said to myself, And altho it didn't make sense, I held my own hand As a small sign of trust And together I sat on the fence Michael Leunig ,The Cartoonist and Poet
Come sit down beside me I said to myself, And altho it didn't make sense, I held my own hand As a small sign of trust And together I sat on the fence Michael Leunig ,The Cartoonist and Poet
In pain, there is poetry in parallels and paradigms it's there in cubes and quantums it projects like a throne and with a groan, beckoning- 'to sit and sift your kingdom come' in the will and one in not undone to satisfy color and tone and crumbling spire only to build it higher a poem of fire razed in darkness risen in light...
Lovely.
Why thank you. I guess its part of something much larger but I was in a moment after that Longfellow poem in the other thread.
In pain, there is poetry in parallels and paradigms it's there in cubes and quantums it projects like a throne and with a groan, beckoning- 'to sit and sift your kingdom come' in the will and one in not undone to satisfy color and tone and crumbling spire only to build it higher a poem of fire razed in darkness risen in light...
In pain, there is poetry in parallels and paradigms it's there in cubes and quantums it projects like a throne and with a groan, beckoning- 'to sit and sift your kingdom come' in the will and one in not undone to satisfy color and tone and crumbling spire only to build it higher a poem of fire razed in darkness risen in light...
An eye for a tooth A lie for a truth You keep on living In the Superman booth Banging your head Against the wall Until all enemies Crumble and fall Only to rise again The very next day No matter how loud You scream and pray With both knees bended On the cold hard floor Knocking and knocking On the opened door
Not a solemn note was there as we closed our lessons Bleak through the pitch, and incredibly high a noted satisfaction with mystery Earning yearning learning burning blairing uncaring for listless silence like drool on a school desk
Calloused faith encumbered His magic gone awry He dreamed his cycles numbered And mansions in the sky But for all the weathered clamor And withered weary prose He wore a lightening stammer And thunder with a rose Then waves arise and buoys stirred Enigmatic in the dark The depths and breadths immeasured The torrent winds embarked Abreast to constellations cure With sextant heart aligned The land afar the water pure The times of time relined Then rendered all asunder Magma, mist and man The finished feral plunder fill The breach to understand
Calloused faith encumbered His magic gone awry He dreamed his cycles numbered And mansions in the sky But for all the weathered clamor And withered weary prose He wore a lightening stammer And thunder with a rose Then waves arise and buoys stirred Enigmatic in the dark The depths and breadths immeasured The torrent winds embarked Abreast to constellations cure With sextant heart aligned The land afar the water pure The times of time relined Then rendered all asunder Magma, mist and man The finished feral plunder fill The breach to understand
