Decided to stop posting here, as all the poems are on the Thirty Poems site, anyway. Too much effort! Hope you'll visit the site anyway...
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posted by Angelojohn @ 7:47 PM
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www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com
in memory you stand
more perfect than
yesterday
here you come
years later
as I walk down the street
in dreams
snapshots of how
you used to be
and how we used
to fit together
you came at me
always
from a bit of
an angle
one hip higher
than the next
eyes that didn’t
quite know
how to work
with one another
your body walking
your mind around
you always made
sundays last forever
trying to be quiet
as your housemates
slept
back from the kitchen
with muffins and marmalade
the morning papers
your sisters letters
reading me poems
and turning
the sheets
you wrote me
a letter
after your sister died
you couldn’t
find a way
you said
to let me in
couldn’t
find a place
to fit in
my comfort
couldn’t
find a way
to let me in
I saw through
the grieving
it was us
that was
dying
we’d come
to a place
that was no longer
ours
we moved
to the comfort
place
the tears
and alone
place
the place
were friendship
begins and
where
lovers end
both knew
we’d someday
let it all
crash and burn
into the ash
and the killing
fire
too high too fast
to find
the long
way down
too high too fast
to find
the long
winding
slow way
down
knew that
we’d shift
pass silence
and separation
to old friends’ mode
collect-calls-from
husband’s-mode
secondhand stories
from mutual friends
from my window
I can see the street
I see your reflection
looking up
from the sidewalk
I see us finding
the long way
way down
I see us finding
the long slow
way down
in memory
you stand
more perfect than yesterday
nothing
this world
ever was
is
perfect
anyway
nothing
this world
ever was
is
perfect
anyway
nothing
this world
ever was
is
perfect
anyway.
*****************************
Aug. 29, 03:55:42 UTC
Lambertville, NJ
©2004, Angelo John Lewis
www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com
*****************************
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days.. To view the ongoing series, go to www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com. Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support.
"see, make beauty every day"
Click here to return to my homepage.
posted by Angelojohn @ 10:25 PM
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“two, three steps ahead”
good to think maybe two three steps ahead
now at the end of the mating season
young men lean and confident and teasing
lay down near the girls on the grass in their summer clothes
on the field where the daisies push up and corn leans tall
deer play on the meadow adjacent to the highway
all living things in their prime before the dawn
of the dying season
on some places on this earth true
the florid season seems to last forever
fruit seems to stay lush and ready
warm winds seldom change direction
all things conspire to mask
the falling and the turning and the ending
and in other places true
the sun burns day after day after day
and brings no hint of the collapse of the light
and the drop of the veil which holds back the sun
revealing the face of the night and the brooding moon
follow the way of the old warrior tree
though you’ve felt the same rhythms maybe a hundred times
hear the last call maybe two three steps ahead
like all things moving towards ultimate goals
be like the old tree ready when the time is up
when the winds change and cool down the sky
and the birds take their singing south
and the deer lay down in search of sleep
warrior tree knew when his time was up
though he’d felt the same rhythms maybe a hundred times
willed his leaves to color and fall
slipped easily into the arms of the dying season.
*****************************
Aug. 29, 03:55:42 UTC
Lambertville, NJ
©2004, Angelo John Lewis
www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com
*****************************
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days.. To view the ongoing series, go to www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com. Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support.
"see, make beauty every day"
Click here to return to my homepage
posted by Angelojohn @ 10:21 PM
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www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com
it was andrew
who taught me
the wisdom of
the chameleon’s ways
why it was
better
to blend in
than stick out
no fixed
views
background neutral
different color
for every occasion
set opinions
he compared
to ethereal
prisons
places where
captives
of reason
stood convicted
convinced
they were free
honor instead
drew said
the example
of the chameleon
more will know
of you
than know you
see in themselves
colors you’ve
allowed
that situation
to emerge
neither politics
nor religion
no fixed eyes
but mirrors
opinions
others have of you
not about you
statements
about themselves.
*****************************
Aug. 27, 02:54:01 UTC
©2004, Angelo John Lewis
www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com
*****************************
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days.. To view the ongoing series, go to www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com. Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support.
"see, make beauty every day"
click here to go back to my homepage
posted by Angelojohn @ 8:05 PM
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“
it was Austin Jim
who mirrored me back
simplified
shifted the
light
somewhere in there
place I sensed
but didn’t fully explore
familiar landscape
old guy knew well
I still get lost
walking through
that neighborhood
tunnels and traps
at one end
other
bright
lights fake
shimmering like
jewels
fools gold
many deviated
strayed, lost
their way
if I’m steady
I’ll make it
stay still and listen
voice of inner senses
blind eyes that see
bat’s way of navigating
seeking
well-worn path
needed a guide
who’d been there
tell me its this way
or that or
here’s what you’ll find
when you get there
trainers wheels
teacher gives
before you walk
the road alone
being weak I needed
examples exemplars
reliable maps
fine tuning
many Austin Jims
to tell me
remind me
in many ways over
trust in these
abstractions
the high mysticism
in which you live.
********************
Aug. 26, 02:39:12 UTC
©2004, Angelo John Lewis
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days. To receive new poems as they emerge, send an email with "30 Days" in the subject line to angelojohnlewis@comcast.net. To view the ongoing series, go to www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com.
Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support.
"see, make beauty every day"
Click here to go back to my homepage...
posted by Angelojohn @ 9:05 PM
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http://www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com/
in the park
across the street
where I grew up
maybe ten yards from our slanted grass
covered combo football and baseball field
musicians a little older
saturdays would play
sax and conga conversations
background music growin’ up
jungle music
my people’s music
drums bass horns
-- saxophones –
beat that makes even wall
street go
corner boys my neighborhood
would play
background music growing up
time passed we
mixed it up
threw in some
of the written stuff
the polite perfect
no swing
fresh from the grave
written stuff
captured the bop
on white lined
sheets of paper
mixed it up
all hybrid like
soul and buttoned
down
some of us/me
no doubt
mixed it up
more than most
fatal flaw
mixed race guy
mixed it up
maybe
more than most
now growing
old
still sometimes
wonder
who the fuck
I am
seriously doubt
you understand
in-between place
people of color
non-
people of color
modern techno world
colors mixed together
sometimes up or
sometimes in.
****************************
Aug. 24, 03:52:33 UTC
Lambertville, NJ
© Angelo John Lewis, 2004
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days. To receive new poems as they emerge, send an email with "30 Days" in the subject line to angelojohnlewis@comcast.net. To view the ongoing series, go to http://www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com/.
Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support.
"see, make beauty every day"
*********************************************************************
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posted by Angelojohn @ 9:13 PM
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it’s a created world
all things created
this pen, paper, keyboard
all created
this poem, poet, pentium
all created
this legend, person, instrument
all created
it’s a created world
it’s a created world…
man/woman’s world
is a concept world
these words, thoughts
heart
from the concept world
this poem
born
in the concept world
it’s a concept world
it’s a concept world
it’s a concept world
it’s a created world…
and there is a place
every place
where the two
worlds converge
and there is a place
every place
where the two
worlds diverge
where the two
created and concept
worlds converge
where the two
created and concept
worlds diverge
the concept
world lives
in the created world
the concept
world lives
in the created world…
man/woman is
source
of the concept world
S/he of
whom
we
will
not speak
is
Source
of the created world
the concept world
lives
in the created
world
the concept world
lives
in the created
world.
***************************
Aug. 23, 02:14:30 UTC
Lambertville, NJ
© Angelo John Lewis, 2004
This poem is from the ongoing project, Thirty Poems in Thirty Days. To receive new poems as they emerge, send an email with "30 Days" in the subject line to angelojohnlewis@comcast.net. To view the ongoing series, go to http://thirtypoemsinthirtydays.blogspot.com/atom.xml or (after August 23) www.thirtypoemsinthirtydays.com. Feel free to clone this project. Or send topic suggestions or emails of support. Make/View art every day.
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posted by Angelojohn @ 7:19 PM
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that nun saved me
the buddhist one originally
from
the one with the hair cropped down
all skinhead like
and that voice
smooth and girlish
70 years of wear
she saved me
that nun saved me
it was even before
the gong sounded
boom
sudden
and clear
from the audiotape
in the cheap
cassette player
sitting next to
me in my bath
something she said
just saved me
that nun saved me
and later
grounded down
in cold
water clear
austere
clarity
I googled her
down
curious how
she came to
serve
me and
all the
fucked-up
people
like me
googled her
down
curiosity
and even while
surfing
I felt her
slap me down
zen buddhist-like
from my tabloid
slumber
slapped me down just
as I reached the part
where she met
the high priest guy
the monk that
saved her guy
the monk that
gave her
gave me
the save me key
I wanted to
know
about the save me
key
as she
slapped me
down
metaphorically
she reminded
me she’d
already given
me
the save me
key
the key
she explained
was right there
here
in front of me
couldn’t be more
in front of me
breathing now
what’s in front of me
the soot, dirt
grime, grease
and pain
of what’s
in front of me
owning the pain
that’s inside of me
and not just the
pain that’s
in front of me
but the pain
from the
fucked up
people
just like me
from all the
fucked up
people
just like me
and then
breathing out
the gentle
healing
rain
the pouring
down sweet
honey rain
the rain that heals
all the
parts of me
the rain that heals
all the
fucked up
people
just like me
that heals
all the
fucked up
people
just like me
she saved me
that nun saved me.
******************************
22:15, GMT+5
© Angelo John Lewis, 2004
Click here to go back to my homepage
posted by Angelojohn @ 7:22 PM
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