B_Marclar's Xanga

Notes on a Squirrel

Wed, 14 May 2008 21:17:25 GMT

strange squirrel
fuzzy brown rascal
hyped up on caffeine
or whatever squirrels drink
that gives them the energy

to race up a tree
       back down to the earth
dig thirty holes in my yard

(where did you hide that nut?)

       now back up the tree
fat body on the high wire
bird feeder your goal
        only to fall short

and dart off into the woods

Hymn of Life

Sun, 11 May 2008 13:48:52 GMT

rejoice! for life is
glorious and grand
like a smashed disco ball
        exploding
shards of glittering joy
all over the dance floor

don't let the inconsequential
drag
       you
             down

rather,
shout out loud
praising the miraculous
hearts beating as one in
the chests of lovers
giggle outrageously at
the azure, emerald, scarlet sunrise

we are the blessed children
       of possibility

we are the generous poor
throwing our weight in pennies
into Salvation Army buckets
in the wonderful cold

we are the stupendously magnificent
Cheshire cats with crescent moon grins
at all the wonderful little things
        just waiting
to be discovered in the world

how can life
get us down
when we're surrounded
by all this beauty
       floating
in the air like music?

Anticipation/Disappointment

Wed, 07 May 2008 20:42:45 GMT

anticipation
i can feel the rough hours
scraping off the clock

i can hear the thundering
grains of sand
time so vast, it seems infinite
but it can't be
because it's running out

my mind races reluctantly
like a marathon runner
who's heart is about to burst, but he can't slow down
with the end so near

will you be there
to catch me when i collapse?

the hourglass is draining
my muscles are screaming
my eyes are straining

but

i don't see you there

I quote Kill Bill: "This is me at my most masochistic."

The Hope, The Fire, The Voice

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 19:49:31 GMT

I am
the last hope of mankind
clinging desperately
to a sliver of morality
that I'm not fit to grasp

I am
the self-consuming fire
that lights dark paths
my belly burns
with charcoal hunger
for destruction,
          not destruction
but change
which often amounts
to the same thing

I am
the voice at the edge
of the abyss
crying, "Marco...
            Marco...
            Marco..."
to guide lost souls

Old Man

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 12:53:46 GMT

Hey there,
Old grandfather man
living by the train tracks.

What moves those old bones today?

Crazy eyed,
    wild shouts,
       arms a'waving frantically
       like a seizure.

"You got yo gun, boy?
Gov'ment gone come take 'em
so you best hide it well.
Gone keep track of dem bullets,
so they know who done the killin'.
Yessir, there gone be blood a'plenty."

Crazy old prophet man,
spit flying from furious rants,
bullet eyes striking down
    all sinners in sight.

They say
you're an alcoholic,
but I know
your mind's just gone sour
from the war
    and the broke years
    shivering against the wall for shelter
while the world slept
in king sized beds.

Lucky Thirteen old man,
it ain't fair the way
you can't die,
    but they never really
    let you live.

"Lost mah eye in the war,
caught the clap from some damned
    frog prossitute,
and now I got that ol' gout somethin' fierce."

Nameless
forgotten old man,
who once could have been
Earl
    or Paul
       or Charles,
now reduced to a flicker
on the edge of my vision
as I look
    the other way.

Reflections on My Grandmother

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 13:43:34 GMT

1

sitting in a flowery chair
mad with age
carrying conversations
with the travel channel

"beautiful...
             Mexico...
       beautiful Mexico...
             sixteen...
       day...
cruise..."

bright colors and sounds
her faithful companion

2

"I'm hungry
I need food
they don't feed me here"

holding a half-eaten sandwich

3

"who's your mother?"

grasping at wisps
of her old self
recognition just beyond
                    the horizon

does the memory of me
                    linger
in the back of her mind
or does she ask everyone
this question?

the GOD-CLOWN is near...

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 17:14:54 GMT

all hail the GOD-CLOWN!
moral abomination
holy
                          and terrifying
above reproach
condemnation to the extreme
expect no mercy
as the slate is
                          wiped clean
huddled, naked souls
suspended in righteous agony
on the scales of justice
there is no love
                         only righteousness
there is no forgiveness
                         only damnation
heavenly hell unleashed up the earth
abandon all hope
                         for the GOD-CLOWN is near!

This poem was inspired by the short story "The God-Clown is Near" by Jay Lake.
Check it out, it's a great read.

A Collection of Ideas

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 17:51:17 GMT

I believe in life
    and life everlasting
but not my life eternal
no
I believe that I am flesh
    and energy
    and this too shall pass away
while the other burns bright forever
fuel for life yet to come

I believe in the universe
    as a blank slate
I believe in you
    and me
        and all living things
as the brilliant paint
    that fills the canvass

I believe in truth absolute
    but also in the myriad shades
    of truth within the truth
I believe that all poetry is truth
    but not all truth is literal

I believe in the purification of the soul
    but not in a state of perfect purity
no
for me, the refining is never finished
and the reward is in the journey
    not the destination

I believe in beauty intangible
I believe that grasping at the mists
    brings us closer to realization

I believe in justice
    for justice's sake
the delicate balance of the universe
leaves no room
    for selfish indulgences

I believe in love
    most of all
love for my wife
love for the world
and love for myself
    from which all love springs

we took their place

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 18:42:58 GMT

brazen
we walked into the sanctuary
sinners without shame
sacredly profane
there were no gods
so we took their place
our muddy footsteps stained on hallowed ground
our heathen hands caressed
virgin sacraments

destructive
we raised our skeleton prayers
forsaking all others
to forgive the divine
speaking worlds into creation
our jaws aching death and life
sing glory supernova devastation
the fire that burns also builds
holistic salvation for the children

seductive
the hem of our robes
vestal garments flung without a care
our nakedness glorious and bold
filled the temple
sacred darkness
tenderly, we praised each other
divine worship of lovers

careless
we flailed about the place
overturning light and incense
silver symbols and graven images
our righteous zeal
justified the damage done
besides, there were no gods
to witness our destruction
save us, and we forgave each other

fulfilled
we dressed each other
rejoiced in that which was disturbed
and receded from the sanctuary
filled to bursting
the brilliant radiance of action
we set forth into the world of men
knowing the sacred fires we lit
would forever burn

Meditation #3

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 16:28:44 GMT

Sorry I haven't posted as much. I swear up and down that I still love all you guys, but I'm busy and don't feel like getting online. Either that or I have a Wii...

the past is dead
consumed by life's fire
reflect on the past
but keep your distance
to dwell on the past
is to immerse yourself in flames
it can never be relived
no good can come of it