Posts Tagged ‘dylan thomas’

dthomas

I in my image who never sought scandal
Fried in a vision of celluloid mist
Bearded and beaded and broken like egg-shells
Newspaper lifelines that twist around friends

I in my image of speech bubble sentiment
Mired in the marrow and marred in the bone
Cracked and corrupted like a corpse’s maggot
Craving an instant of vegetable sleep

I in my image of gossip hewn character
Sliced to a stereotypical density
Daily confused by bent backed insanity
Near to a candle-shine movement of light

I in my image so soaking in solace
With cellophane junctures of alien anxiety
Woman soaked consciousness restrained by indifference
Never becoming yet destined to die

I in my image Hawaiian shirt swollen
Bent bud-brain reeling by gleaning the green
Poison attempts to fit into the in crowd
Caustic of consequence that mutters an end

plants

A spring of life drives flowers upward
Each sacred petal blooming energized to the moon
Chemically charged and vegetable driven
Toward the secret sentience of heaven

All abounding plant-flesh of the bush
Each solid stolid woody stem of flora
Enslaved to other life by love
Enriched by mineral power and fusing molecules

Photosynthesizing and effervescing with succulent sailor sap
Fragrancing air with fecund life-force
Tears of dew bless each leaf iridescent
Vegetation erupts in slow motion from earth with pure libidinous passion

Holy subtle quiet movement of expansion
Holy vegetable joy-frenzy of foliage
Holy soaring jarrah trees and microscopic fungus
Holy whole green world in sun’s sensual light

kerouac1
I have had better relationships with substances than people
It’s not that I didn’t want the relationships with people,
They were just few and isolated like fly spots in a clean house
While pot and alcohol were always there, as long as I had money
‘The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom’ says Blake
It’s all about the loosening of semantic associations
Getting lost in a web of words and forbidden texts,
Zapping from word to word on wings of fancy
With Rimbaud and Dylan Thomas on my shoulders
The vomit of self-disclosure can taste sweet
When blended through the madness of my mind
‘When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.’ says Hunter S Thompson
But when I look at my panoply of drunk, drug addled and crazy heroes
Bukowski, Burroughs, Kerouac, Thomas, Rimbaud, Cave, Plath
I dream of getting wasted with them and swapping poet tricks
Shooting smack with William Burroughs and Nick Cave
Sharing a pint with Dylan Thomas and Charles Bukowski
Trying to cheer up Sylvia Plath
One thing I know for sure
I don’t want to die puking up blood like Kerouac
I wonder if creation really has to take such a toll on the constitution
Self-destruction for art’s sake is a myth, a trope, an illusion, maya
But it’s fun

For Dylan Thomas

Posted: June 19, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

dylan
If I were emboldened by the velvet voice of the rutting fawn,
Who leaves the land-locked maidens in his wake,
And breaks the spring-time grasses without care,
I too would be excited by the rub of love,

And run outside to fellow-friend the girls.
So dazzled by their grace and pulchritude,
As wondrous are their bones to my desire,
I fenced the smoke and overcame my fear.

Within the groves that once were my home streets,
I with careless footsteps was restored,
As I spent myself among the wind-swept girls,
And fruitlessly meditated on the shattering of a maiden.

As all of noble nature cries out for sentiment,
And each trifling creature longs to stretch its line.
Each will populate the kindling earth,
To make an ending to perpetual time.