Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

Warmer ‘neath the Bridge


Warmer neath the Bridge

saint crackhead
stood outside the store
he never asked for much
he helped old ladies with the door
and had cold bread for lunch

he lived in sartorial squalor
underneath my bridge, my view
of privileged chains held tight in place
among us lost
us Few

(sorry, I’ve had to order my 2nd keyboard
for this laptop, i am a sight typer, and even
that ain’t so hot, and half my key faces are gone.)

He warmed His Place with but a Candle
his needs were only Few
He held his Station of the Cross
a Cross that few could handle

and YOU

walk by Him

Every Day

Did you Ever?

turn your Eyes his Way
or stop to consider
The Weightiness of his Stay

a dollar tossed into His Cup
With a look of high Disdain

Your Saint and Savior
saved your Soul

’tis you Who Bear The Shame

I knew such a man, name of TC, in Columbus
Ohio in the 1990s.  My friend Rod says he
stands outside the same grocery, although
the name of the grocery chain has been
changed.

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23rd Psalm, Gospel of the FSM


The Flying Spaghetti Monster is my Shepherd
I shall not want pasta
He maketh me chow down
in Italian Resauraunts
He filleth my gullet
He leadeth me into the paths of Righteous Penne for His name’s sake
He leadeth me by Italian Restaurants
Yea, though I walk through the Alley of Chinese Food
I will fear no Kung Pao, for Sauce art with me
Thy Noodly Appendages comfort me
Thou preparest a table before me within the presence of Linguine
Thou anointest my Dish with Olive oil
My spaghetti fork runneth over
Surely breadsticks and Chianti shall follow me all the days of my Life
and I will dwell in the house of the Italian Buffet forever

The Precipice


Precipice

Precipice (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I
A T (G) P XVII

Being of

Sound
Mind
Body

do bequeef my wordy goods to:

The Ethers
This lonely keyboard
This maddening planet I call Home

and when I finish

word will Stand

OR

Fall

on its own Dead

deed Ed to All
who have passed through my:

Thoughts
Experiences
Fancies

and those left Behind
in the recesses of my memory

for it is

ONE

stream and

Eddies may (or may not)
recall a certain (thing)

POSSESSION

you

Desired
Loved
Required

and so it goes
a Precipice of
Hope or Failure

and Often
a Mix of Both

12.21.20..13

Jesus and Friend, Down on Front Street


I picked up Jesus on the corner
of Xrosswood Drive and Main
he had no dime to take of His own Sacrament
to rejoin the Flocking
spent on broken glass and and stockings
stuffed with yestern pain

coasting to the Depot
He showed me His wounds once again
pictures of his Children in another State
with Nothing on their P(i)lates

wheels and wheels of fortune mists
and portends, omens, twists and opportunities missed
a Mystery to be wearing Flesh
the Way of Gentle Fists

“Mother is worried about me.”
He confided as I parallel parked on Front Street
“I’ll only be a Minute, you can’t come in.”

with Great difficulty, hobbled by the Weight of Worlds’ Forgotten
Hero hobbling to a side door Sacrament
on Front Street

I think of leaving
Him, fleeing at the site
a fleeting Glimpse of where I’ve been
and seem to Moth around

days of yours and mine,
“Here… take this…”
“Are you sure you want two?”

wheels and wheels of wasted twists
Realities cast aside for Aethers’ Fists, the Gentle Fists,
the numbing wrists and opportunities’ mists

and Jesus wept
as we broke an Orange Pill in half in Sacrament
of helpless Bliss

Come Tomorrow, Try Again


Sun Pillar

Sun Pillar (Photo credit: tomhe)

Notes and vocal tracks for a song I am working on for a friend’s band in Georgia.
There style is jam band and I had started writing this several weeks ago and words
began dropping into my head as I was driving to see Ray & Co. in Huckabuck.

The music for the chorus/verse I had written several weeks ago dropped in yesterday
and today I tweaked it a little bit and then lyrics started to drop into the music
with stories of the band members finding verses in the song.  Shortly after that,
I started putting together a possible bridge or alternate chorus for the song.

SoundCloud of my vocal notes —>  <click here>

Chorus/Verse

So-ometimes good ain’t good eno-ough
So-ometimes should’s just should have been
So-ometimes love ain’t ordinary
Co-ome tomorrow, try again

Sean vocal verse:

I got a Jes I want to marry
Ti-imes are hard, you understand
We fuss and fight, it causes troubles
Co-ome tomorrow, (I’ll) take your hand

Jeff vocal verse:

I got a Jes, we got two children
We’re workin’ (or tryin’) hard to make a home
I work all day, it causes troubles (or sorrows)
Co-ome tomorrow, ain’t gonna roam

Alt Chorus/Possible Bridge:

Co-ome tomorrow, Sun is shinin’
Co-ome tomorrow, I’m goin’ home
Co-ome tomorrow, Sun keep shinin’
Co-ome tomorrow, ain’t gonna roam

New Alt Chorus/Possible Alt Bridge (not recorded)

Co-ome tomorrow, Sun is shinin’
C0-ome tomorrow, you’ll understand
Co-ome tomorrow, Sun keep shinin’
Co-ome tomorrow, (I’ll) take your hand

Fulminate of Mercury (in retrograde)


Mercury And Spot

Mercury And Spot (Photo credit: makelessnoise)

Mercury in Retrograde just before I go on a Surprise Honeymoon.  Voter apathy
among sheeple with an appetite for clicking reward buttons.  Wach auf, Leute, wach auf!

Le Monde ne cesset pas, le monde de mon, n’est-ce pas?

A mighty big “IF” you are awake:

Forecastle:

Fulminate of Mercury

a flourish
a rise
a pause

celebratory gum fire on a cold, cold November Day
the sheeple ever sleepeth

the Steeple too steep to climb
Alms budsmen sprinkle lawns with seeds of Hope

a yawn
a whimper
a few lonely howls left

by the waking dread

Spare Some Change


Drunk PIrate

Drunk PIrate (Photo credit: OpenThreads)

 

 

 

This is a poem I wrote at the height of the Occupy Wall Street movement in 2011.

 

To listen to my first reading on SoundCloud—->  <click here>

 

 

 

spare some change

wish i had a drink right now…

seems like a good spot,
30,000 people crowded into a small square,
they got tents and heaters and oh God! all that food.

i get my plastic cup and sign out of my shopping cart
(i di’n’t steal it, a friend gave it to me, yeah)

it’s cold out here and i wish i had a drink right now…

“can you spare some change?” i say to the empty suit
trying so hard not to look my way,
you never know, once one of these empty suits
dropped a twenty in my cup.

i remember back before i lived under the overpass,
a long time ago, or so it seems,
on some goddamned desert, tanks burning in the sun,
we took a grenade and i shit my pants.

i’d shit my pants right now for a drink…

lots of signs being carried round this place,
will anybody see mine?
a bottle of wine is only $3.68 with tax
and i have a $1.42
but the Lord will provide.

that long-haired man has a five in his hand,
don’t look him in the eye,
don’t look him in the eye.

he doesn’t see me and walks past.

a couple quarters from some sweet young thing!
i didn’t even see her,
don’t look her in the eye,
don’t look her in the eye.

“thank you!” i mumble.

i’ll just push my cart to where the food is,
maybe somebody will see my sign,

God, i need a drink…

some young dude leaves a sandwich at my feet,
i knew it, the Lord does provide.

in high school, i was voted class optimist,
it serves me well right now, just about right now.

some odd change and a couple ones from a kind soul.

“buy yourself something to eat” they say.

don’t look them in the eye,
don’t look them in the eye.

“thanks!” (“don’t tell me how to spend my money!” i think to myself)

there’s a liquor store near the overpass,
i can go back home to my warm spot with my bottle
(if the cops haven’t taken down my boxes)
things don’t change much under the overpass.

i push my little world on up the street.
the Lord will provide, it’s a good day to be alive.

Agnew T. Pickens
URR 11.15.20..11

 

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