June 2nd, 2013

inquisitive

the new poem

i wrote in my paper journal this morning, so i'm pretty tapped out. but i wrote a new poem this morning and it is different than anything i have ever written and i am in love with it.


blue sky

i am sitting
basking in the sun
my jeans are faded
my shirt worn and stained
i stare at the walls
surrounding me
they fill me with
comfort
security in this
weird desert city
full of mewling tourists
with fistfuls of
money
and dream of
being the one
to beat the house
oh the tales
they will tell
of free drinks
loose women
mad taxi drivers
and sun
always the sun
even at night
the city glows
so they don't
have to see their
shadows
and i sit in the sun
feeling so removed
i can't hear the traffic
here
i can hear the birds
and the bells
on the necks
of the cats
distant thunder
of jets landing
to expel more tourists
of jets taking off
to take them
home again
the ants drag
half a dead lizard
across the patio
and i admire their
strength

i'm going to start submitting my work to poetry websites again. all the poems i had published by online publications are gone now, the links dead. time to get more out there.
2013, cyd, new

BAPTISM FOR THE DEAD #mormon #atheist #LDS #WRONG

"Perhaps the most striking feature inside a Mormon temple is the large baptismal font, large enough to accommodate several people standing waist-deep in water. The font rests on the backs of twelve life-size sculpted oxen in a special room. It is here that baptisms for the dead are performed. The proxies are usually a group of teen-age Mormons who have traveled from their homes in a group for a temple excursion. Dressed in white, they line up to enter the waters one by one to be immersed by the officiators with the short baptismal prayer: "Having authority given me of Jesus Christ, I baptize you for and in behalf of N. N., who is dead, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." The name of the dead person is read from a list to the officiator just before the immersion. One proxy may be baptized quickly in succession for ten or fifteen dead people. After the baptisms, two other officiators confirm the newly baptized dead persons as members of the Mormon church and confer upon them the gift of the Holy Ghost, by placing their hands upon the head of each proxy, with a similar short pronouncement. Hundreds of such baptisms and confirmations can be performed in a few hours. It is an efficient, production-line operation." -- http://packham.n4m.org
2013, cyd, new

Bobo is not Bobo, is Major

last night we decided that Bobo was a stupid name for a cat. it isn't butch enough. so i suggested "Korben". i tried it out on the cat, and didn't like it a bit. moving on . . . two syllables, not a human name, okay. after a few tries, i came up with "Major". he answered to it. a name was found.

i actually had doc read the poem i posted earlier. you must understand, doc does not read my poetry. he does not listen to it or watch my videos. there is no reason behind it. he just doesn't. but i was so proud of this poem, i had to have him read it. and guess what? he liked it! said it was very different from my usual stuff. encouraged me to keep writing like that. asked me if i thought all the Bukowski had had an effect on my work. wondered if i had tried to write it. no, i told him, i didn't try to write it, it just came. there was no forcing it or thinking of the next line. each word just popped into my head, ready to take its place among others. that's the way it should be.

know what else you can download? classical music. i read that CB listened to classical music, and i wondered if that would satisfy my craving for music without the words to distract me. so i'm downloading a sample of Mozarts's greatest hits. if that goes well, i'll go for some Beethoven.

oh, wow. doc brought me home a gallon of orange juice and i just poured myself a big icy glass of it. mmm. i haven't had orange juice since the infamous vodka night (you remember, the one where i drank half a bottle of vodka with a pill chaser and had my own personal version of fight club . . .). it tastes much better without the vodka. i just can't hold my drink.

i'm done writing. i'm going to go surf some poetry sites and see if i can't get some work in there somewhere.

have a great evening!