Poetry
• Grandmother’s Eyes -
Lynette
• The swell of the ocean -
Hillary Kaye
• New Lyrics - Spike
Marlin and Bill Chappelle
• The
Barbarian From The North (for Allen Ginsberg) - Stuart Z.
Perkoff
• The Venice West Cafe - Bill
Fleeman
Grandmother’s
Eyes
by
Lynette
Two small holes of
brown,
Encased in skin withered by eighty
birthdays,
A thousand memories carved onto
once-smooth flesh,
Hanging cutaneous bags
above the cheeks.
Age clouds the
brilliant sepia eyes,
Defines these eyes with
a revered wisdom,
Enhances them with elderly
reserve,
Eyes looked to for parental
guidance
now sitting dry and useless in their
sockets,
Eyes plentiful only with
reminiscences.
Gazing sullenly from
their rocking perch,
Staring out the window
of life,
These are eyes of gentle
respect,
Surrounded by
progeny,
These are eyes of quiet inner
reflection,
Recalling an energetic
youth,
Pondering their aged
status,
Glancing dismally into the
future,
These are eyes awaiting
death.
-----------
The
swell of the
ocean
dances
and
the time passes
And the sweet sweet
morning
becomes full of
itself
and is lost to
activity
and
confusion.
And only a child’s
heart
finds large pieces
that
are wholy
different
and though not
firm
live in the
spaces
between
time.
–Hillary
Kaye
-----------
New
Lyrics
by Spike Marlin and Bill Chappelle of
Lincoln Place
All We Are Saying is Give
Us our Homes
(To the tune of “Give
Peace A Chance” by John Lennon)
New
words by Spike Marlin & Bill
Chappelle
Everybody’s talking
‘bout…
AIMCO, BLAMECO,
SHAMECO,PAINCO, LAMECO, Going down in
FLAMECO.
(All We Are saying is) Give
Us Our Homes
Everybody’s talking
‘bout…
Tenants, Seniors, Kids and
Dreamers call us Schemers, they’re a bunch of
Weiners.
Everybody’s talking
‘bout…
Pot lucks, Love ins,
Save-the-building dig – ins, Save the tenants live – ins WIN WIN WIN
WIN!
Everybody’s talking
‘bout…
Preservation,
Resurrection, Preachers, Teachers, AIMCO is the Creature we need revolution,
insurrection ethical
correction….
ALL We Are Saying is
Give Us Our
Homes
------------
The
Barbarian From The North (for Allen
Ginsberg)
By Stuart Z.
Perkoff
blind as
roses
we sit in the evenings in rooms of our
own choosing
rooms filled with intricacies of
many delicately structured parts
which dazzle
& fascinate, & alter appearances &
statements
everything with its clear
limits
everything marked &
classified
all aspects
known
all new structures viewed with
distaste
everything of the utmost
seriousness
what are we to say, then, of a
man
who takes off his clothes in someone
else’s living room?
are we to
applaud?
what is his nakedness to
us?
what do we care about his
poems
do you realize he is in the lite? how
can i
be expected to
read?
he makes too much
noise!
he says dirty
words!
he needs a
bath!
he is
certainly
drunk!
i
hope he soon realizes that it is, after
all
now
&
we have many wonderful things to amuse
us
when we want to see
clown
we go to the
circus
is he gone yet? can i come
out
now?
------------
The
Venice West Cafe
By Bill
Fleeman
the venice west
was our
church,
a consecrated place
where we went
to
say our sacred
poems
in honor of the
Lady.
where stuart had
writ
on the wall a
wally
berman
quote:
“art is love is
god.”
Posted: Sun - January 1, 2006 at 01:18 PM