I am a piano player by nature and recently am taken with the idea of writing poetry as if playing piano. In my case that means thematic improvisation where most of the playing is exploration of the theme and every so often an interesting passage arises and I riff till it passes. This all came about from an intense conversation after which I could hardly keep up with the thoughts and wrote and wrote. In retrospect it seemed quite like how I often played piano to process emotion. With poetry, however, there is need to formulate thought which is helpful. Though I think I prefer the more physical nature of piano, both together seems a matching pair. This only makes sense considering most music being melody and lyric. The long poems that I have posted recently are written in this style. In bold are the more poignant passages and the titles have a “No.x” as if they are a classical composition. Some day I would like to post some piano pieces, too. Until then.
A spider in the corner and
hanging from pothos,
keeping these rooms fly free and
The fly is a flarthy flopy floopy flonty fleeting flittery flaggy flutey flarthing fleeming flearthing flearthy fleathy fluesering flanding
flooding flithery flerpy flap
nobody likes that.
To much too little, too high too low, too near too far
Too narrow too wide
Too flat too bumpy
Too kind too mean
Too funny too serene, too fat too thin
Too soft too sharp, too thoughtful too carefree
Too forward too backward
Too caring too sharp
Too sleepy too awake, too shaky too still
Too exciting too tranquil.
IS this the living. I guess so
Oh yes I know body
You want me to freak out
You send along so much frustration
YOu want me to make it all special and amazing
Can’t do it
I am a wimpy normal dude
That is it
Yup just have to wait for this restless feelings to pass
Trying to rationalize
is going no where
Like making a tree grow faster by
telling it to grow faster
Doesn’t work like that.
Have to weather the weather of this season
I don’t like
In fact I rather hate it
Let us be filled with this feeling
LEt’s gorge in it
Let’s jump in it like a puddle of muddy water
That was always fun as a kid right
Just wanna just wanna be okay be okay with this self
Though not actually I see
I actually don’t want what is here
That is the fork
I don’t actually want to just be with it because I don’t want it
Yet this is what is there
So instead shall I be okay wanting something
While here is what is growing in the plant pots of my soil
I suppose I could do that.
Yup I have so many desires and dreams and fantasies
How nice they are
I know they are not real, I will not let them up because of that
So what if they are not real
I shall aspire to make them real
Though I would like to not
Be accepting of my hate and despair
Yes I know, redbear, you pine so.
Long have I hated my desires and my pleasure
and my whims and will
Denied what has always been there
I am done with that
Please crazy cow, take this golden crown
Take this golden scale
golden paintbrush and canvas
And this golden scrub brush
Take this golden
and let him
Let him be accepting of the nature of pleasures
let him alone
Enough with the breathing down the neck.=
Enough with the dizzying rules
Yes I have so many things I want to be.
Accepting the difference between ideas and reality
IS so difficult
It is okay to have wants and needs and desires okay
okay okay okay okay okay
LEt us jump in the puddle of life
Or walk in it or sit in it or be p leasured by it
What is so devious about pleasures.
Enough with the snoby snobby snob.
Yup I am not superman
A thousand Gods
here and there and
there and here.
Where are mine and
where are yours
Riding chariots in the stars or
Breathing curls in the wind
Spirits in the stones and
Dryads singing melodies of maple
Gnomes in my shoe and
Pixies in the cupboards
Where are yours and
where are mine
Here is mine, it is a cow, a crazy cow
It lives on crazy
Delighting in such digestions
Four stomachs, asking no questions
Making no demands
Let go the crazy for
it is treasure for another
So much can not be held
in this simple human puzzle
As the trees take our exhales
giving our inhales
As the leafs fall as gold
to the creatures of the soil
Crazy cow takes tensions and
makes new golden dimensions
Giving light to deep
where it is tight
Desiring only to facilitate flow
the fluries of snow become
apple blossoms in spring.
Crazy cow leaves the
puzzle of good and bad to
the stories of man, and
Where is yours and
where is mine.
Here just to
do what I love
and accept the good and bad of it.
Here in this world to
accept the good in bad of it.
Where is right and wrong,
good and evil.
Tell me when you find it;
i will be long gone
and so will you
and so will time.