"nothing ever was, is, anyway"

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.

"two, three steps ahead"

“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

"Chameleon"

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
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 go back to my homepage

"Austin Jim"

“austin jim”

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

Lambertville, NJ

©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...

"Mixed"

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"

*********************************************************************
Click here to go back to my homepage...

"created world"

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.

Click here to go back to my homepage...

"that nun saved me"

that nun saved me

the buddhist one originally

from new york

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

Lambertville, NJ

© Angelo John Lewis, 2004

Click here to go back to my homepage

Brief Tone Poem for Jimmy P.

I’m thinking now
of the yen
of the
mind alone
and the product of mind:
thought
and that thought’s
children and grandchildren
and these thoughts’ lineages
crisscrossing
converging/diverging
children with
common mothers
branches
seeds
common soil

and I’m thinking now
of the yen
of the
mind alone
and mind’s tendency
to spawn
complexity
build structures
on backs
of other structures
columns in
trees
lines in leaves
tributaries
grids
lattices
networks
structures
complexity

and I’m thinking now
of the sounds
that punctuate
neural veins
thoughts that
sing
hum
buzz
whoosh
call
all from nothing
noise and then
silence, noise
and then silence
and nothing again

lesson in
these thoughts
about thoughts
bee honeycombs
ant networks
spiders’ spins

lesson in
these thoughts
about thoughts
about the webs
or ropes
that expand
and then tighten
that dazzle then
blind

lesson in
these thoughts
about thoughts
these delights
that stun
numb
stimulate
formulate
trap
deliver
and bring

no peace

**********

Angelo John Lewis
8/20/04: 3 am EST

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.

Click here to go back to my homepage...

Thirty Poems in Thirty Days

I have challenged myself to write thirty poems in thirty days and post them here in my blog. Please support me in any of the following ways (or others!)

- Comment on my poems as they appear here each day
- Clone my challenge: do this yourself -- maybe we'll start a movement!
- Send me sample topics or bits of inspiration (offline, please!)
- Visualize me happily writing
- Include me in your relfections/meditations
- Connect with me, telepathically, or by sending me email off-line (ajl@angelojohnlewis.com)
- Read some poetry today
- Go to a poetry reading
- Take a nice hot bath, scented by bath salts and enhanced by lit candles. Luxuriate in it for at least 15 minutes, breathe!
- Take a bike ride, go slow, take it easy today.
- Take time this week to experience the sacred in the midst of everything else that's going on...


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.

Click here to go back to my homepage...