Poetry
• The Empty Blues - John
Thomas
• So Odd Is Venice - Jim Smith
• Allen Ginsberg - Hal Bogotch
• The Ladybugs of Venice Beach
- Krista Schwimmer
• Obituary of Man - Exit Homo - John
Kertisz
The Empty Blues (circa
1960)
By John
Thomas
hitchhiking
46
hours no sleep no
food
either
except for chocolate pie & coffee in
San Luis Obispo
I’m up in the empty hills
now
north of Paso
Robles
(always a badluck town for
me)
eating dexedrine smoking
cigarettes
up in the hills & empty
cold
cold cold & the
night
slams in my face
cold
now the big tandems come barrelling
by
ZOOM BAM gone in the
night
hours & hours & I curse them for
not stopping
finally get
the
Blues the
true
Empty
Blues
what is
it
46 hours no sleep no food just
leapers
so I feel cold & dry &
empty
not bad
quite
but I
know
nothing will be right
I
KNOW all I have to do is hope
something
& it won’t ever
happen––these
are the Empty
Blues
oh, the trucks don’t
stop
on El Camino
Real
no
so
I’ll never get there
no
no
& when I
do
no
(big
diesel rig
ZOOM
BAM)
knew
it
they never stop on
101
be here all night I
know
Got the Empty
Blues
what is
it
a kind of
knowing
–I know all about
it
don’t even
care
just
know
I know I’ll never get to San
Fran
& when I get
there
it’ll be just like here, I’ll
stand
till two in a
bar
watching the barkeep drink
Bromo
he’ll drink Bromo all
nite
with a stiff
arm
& the Bulova on his
wrist
won’t it shine? Oh
yes
I
know
I’ll stand in the bar & watch
those
girls blasé-ing down the
street
they never
stop
no
&
when they do
oh
no
I’ll even sound the
barmaid
& she
won’t
& when she
will
she’ll live in some Filipino
hotel
doormat shackled to the
wall
bathroom way down the
hall
don’t tell
me
I know it
all
these are the Empty
Blues
------------
So
Odd Is Venice
By Jim
Smith
What an odd
city
we
have.
Where poems seep out of
our
city
hall.
And murals run round the
walls
of our
jail.
Our main street has no
cars,
only
people.
And to the
west
we can see
eternity.
------------
ALLEN
GINSBERG
By Hal
Bogotch
Howl busted the yawn wide open,
broke it down
into the screaming hysterical hip
hop city streets,
ran naked over the Golden
Gate Bridge at dusk
and plunged into the icy
cool stream of consciousness
of America
worldwide.
Go Daddy!, big Daddy, go Sky
Father
of the tiny pieces of paper with
wings
Yo! Pop Daddy of the wide round
mouth,
big and tall books, and large
magazines.
Yo! Give it up for the
Grandmaster,
the luminous name of the poet
Allen G.,
the man, the one who laid it
down
and laid it all out, yeah, the man,
Ginsberg,
he who sang with a big voice, a huge
brain,
and a giant heart, who sang for sex and
pain,
for madness and truth, for life and the
death
that spikes that crazy immortal
paradoxical elixir,
yeah, who else could sing
and rave,
rage and shake his fist at the
tight-ass Five Stars
who overcompensate with
Greek god missiles
for what they can’t
give to their women at night,
yeah, Mr. A.G.,
that’s who (look it up in Who’s
Who,
page 4 - 1 - 1), he who knew what time it
was,
yeah, he who knew when to
‘dis’ the establishment,
when to
throw a bucket of splash
on the wicked
witchy parliamentarians,
yeah, Allen G.,
that’s who, who else had the funk
to
freak the system, to speak up and speak out
for
peace, to open the eyes of the masses
and
not pander to the pandemonium,
nobody else said
it like him, with wisdom, serenity,
stone cold
chutzpah, and a
harmonium.
------------
The
Ladybugs of Venice Beach
By Krista
Schwimmer
We met in a
huge
parking lot off the
beach
forgetting to tell each
other
exactly where,
but
it was alright &
then
we walked south
towards
the Marina, out two
men
gradually moving
ahead
as men will do
sometimes.
Lisa was quiet &
observant
the first to
notice
the ladybugs along the
shore.
at first, it was one or
two,
then hundreds right where the
tide
has been. Further
up
I spotted 2 small
crabs
the first I had even seen in 6
years
& we watched
them,
making sure they returned
safely
to the water. We walked &
walked
the men pulling ahead more &
more
& just before we reached the
Pier
Lisa & I decided to
rest
laying down before a
flock
of sandpipers & plovers
sleeping.
it was gray then & I felt a
trance
upon me, the men now at the
Pier
gazing at the passing sailboats.
Ladybugs
crawled on is as we
looked
out to the sea, the two women
born
a day apart—lucky
ladybugs
calling forth our deepest
wishes.
We caught up to the
men
& returned home
via
the canals where there
was
a golden eyes
haron
fishing on a row
boat
& a lone egret
tickling
the water of catch
fish.
he was at the end of the
canals
& let us watch his
hunt
until 2 loud girls startled
him
with their enthusiasm.
Still
we had seen
enough—
enough
beach
enough
birds
enough ladybug
magic
for one
day.
------------
Obituary
of Man - Exit Homo
By John
Kertisz
Rain is on its
way...
Stillness persists in icicle
cold
As boulders await a
tumbling
On pulsating path...in rhythm to the
sea
The cat sits astride, one moment in
time
The dog sleeps...eternally
sublime
The elephant mourns each death of its
kind
While man destroys all, for power in
crime
Now to speak as voice of
Mother-Earth-Nature
Telling all men...no wars
can be won
All battles are lost...until Man can
see
Futility incarnate...engorged with
power
You came from me...will return to
me
Sooner or later...an absolute
certainty
Chances are...your extinction
will be soon
another species will
appear...perhaps in tune
You were clever
fellows...made it to my moon
Yet never could
see...my flowers in full bloom
Sadly, I
must say...though life can be fun
Only the
misery...seems to have won
Thanks for the
memories...such as they are
Think while you
can...I don’t need
Man.
DUH...UM...FEH
Posted: Fri - February 1, 2008 at 02:59 PM
