Archive for the ‘ Poetry ’ Category

News Flash Snadragon Central December 1, 20.12


Another fantastic day in Ohio.  Got the ad cards from the printer’ for my book, “Space Christals,” and Terry Teri Luoise Kelly’s book of poetry, “Dead With Your Legs Spread on an Unmade Bed” (yeah, she writes catchier titles than I do).  Barnes & Nobles was across the parking lot and took a few of my book cards but Teri’s book wasn’t in their system so they said they couldn’t take hers. (Her boo…

k is out on Lulu.com, guess B&N doesn’t deal with them) Stopped at Video Visions in Mansfield, porn and head shop, thought some of the heads in town might be into something other than porn. Stopped at Main Street books and my two lonely copies are still sitting on the bottom shelf eight months later.  Oh well.  They took both of our cards, guy there was very nice. Suzy is right next door in the smoke shop and is my mom’s best friend.  She was sitting their in her empty cigar shop, not even a lottery customer in the store.  We chatted for a few minutes and she told me to try the coffee shop across the street, that it was pretty hip.  Left a reader’s copy there and some more of our cards. That was without leaving town so I decided to blow off driving to Columbus to look up some places to hit in the big city.  Headed to Downertown to see my adopt-a-pops outside Huckabuck.  Yeah, my pop’s almost five years older than me and is the most honest criminal you’ll ever meet, in his words. Pedro was already incoherent when I got there, and my pops and a couple of the “neighborhood nuts” were all trying to talk to him.  Hadn’t seen him like that in quite a while.  I guess he hit a rought patch or something.  Me and Bob, one of the NN (“neighborhood nuts”), decided to take Pedro home and make sure he got in the door safely,  he had his bottle of Kessler’s and his hat and he made it home alright. Holy crap this status is getting too long…  Well when you’ve had another perfect day like I’ve had, you tend to remember a lot of details about it. 
 
Bub was still there when I got back to my pops so it wasn’t really crowded with the four of us in the two room shack my pops owns outright, except for the Queen’s Taxes.  Bub is another NN.  I break out my li’l sack of sativa sitting on the catpiss stained couch pops sleeps on.  Bob is the second-most sober of the four of us but he can’t roll for shit.  Pops is too busy so I toss the sack to Bub and ask him to roll.
 
He grabs my li’l wee sack as well as the weed and dumps out half of it, about enough for four of pops’ prisoner joints and I’m “Like hey man! That’s half the bag!”
 
Bub just grins and says, “Hey man! I was in prison too long, I don’t know how much to dump out.”  He drops a couple buds back in the sack and starts breaking it up.  Bub is one of my favorite NN when he doesn’t get redneck drunk.  Pops is ready to roll the weed cause Bub can’t roll for shit either and rolls up two prisoner joints for the four of us.
 
I’m hoping it will mellow them out a little bit cause they are all telling neighborhood stories and Bob keeps interrupting pops.  Pops likes to yell at Bob and sometimes Bob’ll get his feelings hurt and go back to his camper across the street.  But not today, these characters were three sheets when I got there at four o’clock.
 
Back before I put aside my practice of Plaid Magic, Bob had told me that Linda had gotten a whole box of old letters from the middle 1900’s and had asked me if I still collected stamps and stuff.  He had a few with him.  I told him they were of little value to me and probably not worth much but if he could find an old Valentine from the 30’s or 40’s I might be interested because I was casting a lovespell for my sister and could use it in the spell.  He comes back five minutes later with a Valentine from like 1942 and I gave him two bucks.  Man he was a happy camper.
 
Anyway after we smoked the first joint,  Bob remebered that episode and we started reminiscing about the neighborhood adventures and people who had moved out or moved on.  There’s more that happened today, but tjis writer is getting sleepy and is signing off…  Have a blessed day

The Blue Gate, Life and a somewhat random facebook status.


My dream is to make a living wage doing something I love to do for as long
as it gives me joy. I don’t desire riches, in fact I fear them. Fame is a
fleeting friend. But waking up every day knowing that come what may, I will
be grateful for whatever comes my way…

I have what I require in the way of food, shelter, medicine and basic
transportation. (Praise Gumbytron for the use of my sister’s old minivan
which is still running) But concert tickets once a summer would be nice.
Yeah I’d like more, but at least once a summer. Oh yeah and a way to get
there. Thanks Manvir for Furthur last summer, the bus trip there and back
was quite a journey.

Where was I. Oh yeah, it started with a simple question in my noggin.
Am I crazy because I believe it is the right of every human being to be
treated as such when they are actively engaged in doing something that she
loves, that also benefits those around her, should she not expect that for
her efforts on behalf of humanity that she be entitled to a living wage?

Oh fool’s talk! Let’s talk Manchester United, Marc, how is their season going?
(aside to a Facebook friend)

Concert tickets for New Year’s, eh, we may not see New Year’s, I’ll probably
be down at Lake Hope for the Mayan Solstice. The Blue Gate that Knight Chris
and Knight Derek opened in the woods there will be open for three days.

Gumbytron has instructed me that I must remain at the gate but I can’t leave
until everyone is done passing through those 72 hours (give or take a few
nanoseconds) The system will never elminate the human element. That is why
it is called an element. So we must rely on technicians in Snadragon (in a
near parallel universe to operate the controls, for which they are handsomely
compensated, I  might add) during the aperture of the Blue Gate.

OK, perhaps the beginning of my earlier phrasing “Am I crazy…” maybe a moot
point after the revelation of my Mayan Solstice plans. But I have a big
problem on my hands. You see, I don’t know where the Blue Gate is exactly
as I was having back trouble and couldn’t make the hike from the campsite in
2001 and listened to Bluegrass Music for three hours while Knight Chris and
Knight Derek went on the quest that I had sent them on to open the Blue Gate
to Snadragon. And Knight Chris and Knight Derek have jobs and families and
responsibilities now and may not be able to make it to help me find the way
back to the Blue Gate.

But, I will go nonetheless. See how much it costs to rent a cabin. Gumbytron
instructed me to stay near the gate for three days but by Pokemon I don’t
have to freeze my nuts off doing it. Probably can’t afford a three night stay,
though. Be happy if I could afford one night but hey rates may be cheap.
Don’t own a tent. Maybe I could borrow Knight Chris’s. Don’t believe that
Knight Derek has a tent. Or sleep in the minivan and turn on the heat every
couple hours.

The things we do for faith in our own dreams…

Listen to this reading of my new poem:

a happy idiot

 

my book Space Christals is available on Amazon

a happy idiot


Image

i have my survey map,
my lamp and shovel

there is no trail
but the landmarks are clear
it can’t be much farther

the sun sits
at just the right angle
for my little endeavor

my heart beats faster
as i hear the rush of Griswold Creek

i drop my gear
and take a drink of water
from my canteen
wipe my brow

miles from the road
but this is the spot
the survey says so

gather up the gear and head off
toward the banks of the creek
and in three minutes

i am standing on a small bluff
overlooking a turn in the bed
and put down my gear

looking around and
humming  “not fade away”

time to get started

i find a clear spot
five feet from the bank
and spread the map out on the ground

looks like plenty of digging
on this side of the creek
and the sun
oh, the sun!

along the banks
that’s where the treasure lies

i dig one hole into the bank
three feet deep
and water begins to pool
in the muddy bottom

nothing

methodically
i dig like this
until the sun begins to hang low

the light isn’t right
but i’ve waited too long
i’m not stopping now

and the full moon
is already cresting the treeline

try the other bank beneath the moonlight?
or head home and hope for another day

i am the happy idiot by the creek
digging for rainbows in the banks

11.30.20..12

How do I smoke thee, let me count the ways


November 30th 2012

how do i smoke thee?

how do I smoke thee?
let me count the ways
i roll thee in parchment and spark you up
within lung’s reach and the feeling’s out of sight
I smoke thee freely, never passing to the right
i love thee purely in the night
I love thee with a passion that i put to use
in my head, and with my trusty torch
I smoke thee with a love i never seem to lose
with all lost saints – i love thee with my breaths
all Smiles and laughs- and if God choose
I’ll smoke thee til my day of Death

This rather rough poem is my latest with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.I also off you an audio reading of my poem:

children of the GMO

Mothing else for this evez but gratefulness for another Blessed day!

May Gumbytron Bless You and Yours

Agnew

 

children of the GMO


Image

children of the GMO

while there are yet gods
walking the earth among us
can we taste the preservative kiss
as we walk the fields of GMO

eating the flesh of humans
directly from their bones
and dance beneath penumbral moons
while switchblades play in the sandpits

let us exhaust ourselves on each other’s shores
’til dawn bids us to sleep in lullaby bunkers
and dream in the centrifuge of audacity
the audacity against creation that we’ve become

come drink
from fetid stinking springs
that now smell like rosewater
let us dance in pools of toxicity
and fester with the best of them

there will be no time allotted
for regrets, of things undone

there will be no tears allotted
for the blotting of the Sun

we will melt together in the primordial oozes
stratified
and dumb
returned to sender
never to be opened

No filter needed


no filter needed
tap that main line
and let your mind melt to pieces on the floor

phasing out
it’s not extinction
just nature’s way of telling you to move along

neurotramsitters will tell you this
endorphins
god chemicals

look at the dandelion
a weed, yes?
golden crowns across the lawns proclaiming:

I AM

and damn your broad-spectrum herbicides
we got airborne seed

weeds
what does a dandelion think
when it sends its ‘chutes into the air?
little promises

phasing out
acceptance

words like these cast like seeds
to be blown in the wind
in hope

in hope

11.26.20..12

http://soundcloud.com/agnew-t-pickens/no-filtter-needed

‘Consume Mass Quantities”


“Consume mass quantities”

you’ll never fill that gaping hole
inside your soul
with stuff
no matter how hard you try

if you can buy someone’s love
with shiny things,
what will happen to that love
when the luster fades?

more shiny things?
that lie in piles unappreciated?
because you have given too much stuff?
because you raised expectations once again?

where does it end?
buying things you don’t need
with money you don’t have
to prove you are a good consumer

you should have that written on your epitaph:
“here lies a good consumer.”

i’m not saying you shouldn’t give,
but give your most precious gifts to those you love,

build some memories that don’t involve wrapping paper…

give those the Lord has entrusted to your care
the lessons they will need to face the future

give them the tools to think for themselves
and not the pap fed to us by the commercial media

life is not about the stuff you accumulate
and Mother Earth is already stretched to her limits
swiping that card one more time adds to her misery
and adds to your misery in the long run

but this is the way things are, you may say,
if i don’t buy that technobauble for my child
she won’t fit in, she’ll feel inferior

is this what you wamt your children to believe?
that what you have defines who and what you are?

you may believe your value lies in these things
but do you really want to pass
that diseased philosophy
to your children too?

greed is good
more greed is more good
can’t get enough greed

all that stuff you find so precious
can be wiped out in a single instant,
a fire, a tornado,
what will you have left of yourself
if you place your value outside yourself?

here are some lessons that will last a lifetime:

restraint, you don’t have to charge over the precipice
with all the other lemmings

value, for the blessings we receive each day
just in drawing another breath

love, for those around you
and not all those things falling out of your closets

the greatest gifts we have are the times we get to spend together
on this short ride through the galaxy
don’t let shiny things get in the way of those great gifts.

11.26.20..12

Troubles with Amazon


Image

 

Tuesday, November 19, 20..12

My book “Space Christals” was published on December 21, 2011 and I still can not be found on Amazon’s search engine even though I published it with their service CreateSpace. 

When I go to type my title in,  the search takes you to listings containing “space” and “crystals” and has no direct way to find my book.  I conteacted them about this problem and they said they would get back to me and that they would be working on it. 

It worked briefly when I would type in my title, it would still say “space crystals” in the search but offer an options for “space crystals books” and take me to my book.  Now that doesn’t even work so I guess ‘ll have to call again.

Anyway, since there is no link, you can find it here:

Space Christals

I’d like to poste a reading of one of my poems, an irregular Jesus, which is from this book.

an irregular Jesus

an irregular Jesus
who likes to take vacations in the asylum
walks into Ace hardware for some glass cleaner
and gets lost

he finds himself in line with a bottle of pneumonia
when the lady in front of him has her credit declined
and walks away empty handed

he yallers, “Hey! i got a GOLD tooth.”
but she disapppears

he forgets his first miracle for a moment
and the pain in his chest nearly drops him to the floor

he laughs and waves at the security camera
remembering to wander
to the corner to clean a few windows for the Man

an irregular Jesus

Thank you for reading,

Agnew

 

Monday Morning Mutterings…


Image

 

Monday, November 19, 20.12

Somewhere near Snadragon!

May Gumbytron bless you who are reading this.  Another week has passed and I have not resumed my task on level 4 Matrix panel version 2.  As you may recall,  I had a major problem with version 1 when I installed a “superiority” complex in a chaos region of the map.  I’m gonna lay off the superiority complexes for a while.  Vers. 2 has a “pizza” mandala octagon in the center of the prime matrix.  Vegetarian.

http://soundcloud.com/agnew-t-pickens/monday-mourning-musing

My fears are all sleeping on beds of nails.   I’ll play loud music in the echo chamber and let it reverberate through their nightmares.  added to that is this:

no sleep, clogged neurons
and neurotransmitters going haywire
too early to start drinking
tv news drones on about politics
scandals as if

nothing else happens around me
i look out the window
nothing has changed
not even the weather

toxicity levels rise so slowly in this atmosphere
that one day it’ll all just sputter out
i’ll just sputter out

sputter out or tune out
a slow fade to paradise…
turn up the volume
don’t worry, the neighbors won’t hear it
they’re watching tv

11.19.20..18

at my level of debauchery
i was seriously thinking about cracking a bottle of wine
it’s not even nine
speaking of debauchery
Agnew reports that on the Hamster planet of Snadragon,
on Mondays,
no one was killed by space junk
an orgy ensued
only there were no paparazzi
no one died and no one fried

Sunday compressed


the hamster was not made for Sunday
ImageSunday was made for the hamster

wake up with dreams of Snadragon
fading in the noonday sun
foggy memories that haunt the waking hours

do a quick check of all systems:
body, check
vision, check
imagination, check
serenity, check

drink a glass of water
stretch, stretch, s-t-r-e-t-c-h
fart

another day, another Sunday…
another gift from Gumbytron

so many hamsters worshipping their football
sit and worship briefly
bless the forward pass

take the hrududu to marionkind
on a sunny afternoon
hamster paws serenely holding the wheel
there’s always a wheel somewhere with hamsters

a familiar road
under November skies
the King’s taxes well spent

mad Mike is out on his bike
and Father Time is assembled in his usual spot
flipping his remote between football and murdering shows

let’s go to Pittsburgh!

and do what?

you’re right

Max
the perpetrator
the crumbhunter
the shiteater
his hind legs aren’t always cooperating these days
and the fur on his back is sparse

he’s begun to expect a Slim Jim
so we walk to the store down the street

time for the smoky communion
pauses in the thread of conversation
considering the thoughtsicles
that crust up in the imagination

floating back to the galleon
to take my place among the galley hamsters
push button-get reward
our only motivation
push button-get ignored
our state of stasis

no response from the ethers
no pushbutton validation
string a few syllables together for no one
in particular

the point of making a point in pointlessness

sit beside the traffic
smoking a cigarette
as the breath clouds up the night
content with something
content with something

11.18.20..12