Art Music Poetry #97

Kicevo Opus 1686 or soIMG_3884

Kicevo, 2010.

Experiment on printed paper.

I rarely comment on the music I put up here.  This one deserves a little explanation.  It turns out I have fallen in love and I hope I do fall in love again.  And I did fall in love a few times and had it not returned, you know what I mean?  So the next time someone falls in love with me, it better be the one I love from afar, the one who already loves me, the one who will never let me go.

What can I do about geography?  Circumstances do not ALWAYS make things work out.  But, not for the same reasons Mr. Waits settles for more drink and not falling in love, and then he falls for the woman who is no longer in the room, at the end, rang a bell with me here today.

Combine that song with this one, the first on Closing TIme, the one the Eagles brought forward for him, and you have a chance to feel really lonely about the loves that are so far away.  Don’t do that, just go give a hug to that one who matters, if you’re lucky enough to be with the EXACT RIGHT ONE.

“Excuse me

are you from New York?

I thought I saw you

there in May

or June.” “No Shanghai

but I visited

Manhattan in June, maybe

you did see me there.”

This is how

the opening lines

are played in

his head, but chess is

simple compared to

size, culture

generation gap.

He’s up, the ruse is

a refill at Foster’s in

Chapel Hill two days

after a

home loss too…

But dude boy

is not about to lose this

one, no; cup

in hand he weaves through

tables, stops, pelvis

eye level

as she peers over laptop.

“Yes,” she says,

“Excuse me, are you

from New York?”

“No, but…”

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Art Music Poetry #95

This one is in Cypress owned by Ferridun, the singer.

This one is in Cypress owned by Ferridun, the singer.

Blatant fouls
distract virtuous
life. Even autumn
colors can’t pull us
together.

The penalty for
not thinking
is another round
of corruption, worldwide wage
slavery.

A girl in
an engineer’s cap
wraps an afghan on
her grandmother, gets
I-Pad news.

Hip swerving golfer
prances through
a coffee shop with
fully clothed three hybrid: a
sponsor’s gift.

Lifestyles, so
incongruent, mingle while
Wall Street adds
A hundred to the
Dow: record profits

magnify
obvious bias bestowed,
via GATT,
to owners of the
means of production.

Art Music Poetry #96

Kicevo Colony, Opus 1688, 48 x 48 inches

Kicevo Colony, Opus 1688, 48 x 36 inches

Jesus is a Liberal

Jesus Christ would not be proud
To see religion in this state. (Virginia that is.)
TV evangelists preach a canon of intolerance.
Jesus never expected people to hate in his name.

Building amusement parks in homage to God
Makes as much sense as waging war for Christ.
A god who attracts such diverse attentions
Is not a nice god or even a holy god.

He must be the god of money, or,
The god of land acquisition, or, perhaps
Even the god of death. Now that should
Set bells ringing in your bible-belt ears.

The god of death destroys life and love,
The god of death is worshipped in Lynchburg.

This Poem first appeared in “the Muse,” Edited by Ilya Kaminsky, 1997, Rochester, NY

Barry Chapter One Part 2

#1992

#1992

So I caught a ride down Elmwood Avenue from John’s office (appropriately 118 steps from Canon’s, John’s favorite watering hole, a place that also served a divine Welsh rarebit and steaks).  The couple who picked me up was young.

“Where you headed young man?” he askd as the car made it through intersections heading east-south-east past the “State Hospital” which is a catch-all for the mentally ill, eternally homeless or basket cases, known as “lifers.”

Art Music Poetry #94

Cartoon face from fourth grade reviited

Cartoon face from fourth grade revisited

To Be Human

 

is to fall in love over and over,

to never give up on any of them,

to cry for the inhumanity, and try to

overcome all that surrounds us by creating

a closeness with those in proximity, both

geographical and philosophical.  It is to

carry those loves in our heart, flooding our

minds no matter how gone they are.  And

to put others’ needs first, understand their

flaws, work on our own so we can be

better helpers.  It is to take it all in and

follow our dreams no matter how preposterous;

to pull apart another brown paper bag and

to write it all out, no matter how choppy.

So take my hand and make it all better

before I repeat the painful parts until

I can no longer act.  To struggle past

obstructions and obligations, self imposed and

expected; to wallow in joy, build strength and

change what we can for the better. To live, to give.

Art Music Poetry #93

Spiritual Scuffle above Macedonia,2010,Kicevo Artist Colony

Spiritual Scuffle above Macedonia,2010,Kicevo Artist Colony

Bright eyes dig up a question from generations ago:

You want to know why the wind blew us

Together, how our sons will grow, when we will

Meet again, where will we be as one again?

Training gives you the desire to examine cause and

Effect.  Experiences about as wide apart as possible

Come at us, yet we harmonize, learn each other’s secrets,

Give what we know the other will love, provide

Sanctuary in a world spinning out of control for so

Many.  This I offer to distinguish myself from regular

Men, be they handsome or young: a complete heart

With continued support, undying gratitude, massage

Therapy, attempts at cooking, quite a way with words.

I expect you to smile when we chat, remain a solid

Force, a muse for my art, the reason I will always

Yearn for more, forever the target of happy life,

Memories (plans?) and a fresh heart, made whole

By the time we spent sincerely swirled, sufficiently

Molded to continually receive jolts of good news,

Connected forever by this love, complex, alive, strong.

Barry, Chapter One, Part One

Made in 1998

Made in 1998

“Sunflower as Tree”

Barry, Chapter One, Part One

I, Barry, took three rides and a long walk to make it from Rochester to Canandaigua.  I was told by my cousin’s husband, a noted child psychologist and researcher who developed the tests needed to diagnose mental disorders in blind, deaf or both adolescents, to just leave his office and go to where I wanted to be.  It’s hard to believe he didn’t realize how distressed I was, but I felt a type of freedom I never would have allowed myself at the time.