My epitaph stared back at me,
grinning knowingly at
the paper cut peep show.
Dead Man Shaving.
Fumbling through the motions
I smoked a peace pipe,
and declared war on life,
and modern art.
As needled tumors grew
in my brain’s icy cave,
I fried mushrooms,
but ate nothing
in a righteous hunger strike,
and lost all feeling in my fingers.
Bare-headed and baptized,
I was dragged screaming,
chanting advertising slogans
to Egyptian Sun Gods,
and a full eclipse winked at me slyly.
Then, on my twenty-third attempt
at eternal life,
I found a small pool of lamb’s tears
and bathed my eyes.
I saw myself unshaven,
unkempt and unloved, and
as a dragonfly landed on my future.
Hungry for meat,
I trapped an apple
in a silken snare
and gravity forced its juices
down my throat.
Popping pills of paucity,
I ventured forth again, on the tired trail
of the shallow brick road.
I fell into bad company.
A willow and a river
became drinking companions.
A slop bucket was my goblet
as we sang love songs
to a tearful moon.
One night we acted out a play.
I was a lighthouse,
and the river raged
as the smooth pebbles on the shore
Willow did nothing.
A lonely goat sat down,
and told me tales
of suffering and hatred.
We cried until morning
and he vanished with the dawn.
Breakfasting on regret
I swung on the rope
across death’s chasm, laughing
at the demons below.
I waved goodbye
to my pantomime pals
and painfully scaled
the giant cobblestone hill
back to Utopia.
Straightening my tie,
I grabbed my cell phone
and rushed at the day.
... a plentiful paucity of dichotomous paradoxical chimera from down the rabbit hole of dreamland, an over-stream of consciousness with too much stream and too little consciousness for anything but a drunk shaman to make sense of, and anybody who thinks they can make sense of this miasma of fantastical imagery is purely delusional, but then again, projection is the nature of modern society. After all, Jung was the last person to seriously believe he could interpret dreams. He was of course, quite wrong. :)
|| Posted on 2009-03-21 00:00:00 | by erthona | [ Reply to This ] || well damn!|
you know... breakfast at tiffanys is my favourite movie ever and audrey hepburn... shes so chic... i wanna be her when i grow up...
and you know... th feeling that i get from that movie runs right throughout this piece...
i love that movie coz its so existential in some ways...
she doesnt own anything... not even the cat...
she doesnt know who she is just who she isnt and she doesnt know what she wants... she'll try anything only coz shes never tried it before...
this poem in its own way reflects that and yet it says so much more too...
its almost like you have a crack at all religions and spiritual thoughts and beings... at societal flaws and personal regrets...
its the long night of torturist thinking
the trying to relive the moment
its the highs and coming off them
its the lows and climbing up from them...
its life in every facet
in every stream
in every mirror
and then you grab your fone and start the day...
how ironic that statement sounds.. i mean really...
look at the journey you have taken the reader through to end it with something so redundant as straightening your tie and running towards the day...
i simply love the pictures and the way you laid them out too... simply stunning sir...
you, my friend, are a legend!
|| Posted on 2006-05-20 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ] || Wow! I am just blown away by this piece. It was so good. I'm not sure, but it seem the person needed to do drugs to endure his day in this busy life. I could be wrong. Overall, the imagery was perfect, the pictures were a bonus to this poem. I loved the way you structured it as well. This was very good, I just loved it. |
|| Posted on 2006-05-09 00:00:00 | by Magnolia Steele | [ Reply to This ] || While this piece is heavy on the drug references, I think this is more about why we're here- the meaning of life, the meaning of death, and why we go through what is in between the starting and ending point.|
I find references to rituals (Both spiritual and mindane): shaving, peace pipes, lamb's tears, righteous hunger strike, becoming a lighthouse.
I find a reference to karma in the dragonfly line.
Mostly I got the feeling of us fumbling around, not knowing exactly where we should be, what we should be doing, and instead of focusing on that, we find ourselves rushing off into daily life.
Interesting piece. I'm sure that many will, as I did on the first read, see all the drug references, but there is a deeper meaning within the words. You are definitely witty, Sir Graeme.
I'd love to offer suggestions, but my suggestions about word choice would simply be offering you how I would do it, not how it should be done.
With that said, I'll just add on last thought...
I hate you! Now that you've added beautiful pictures to you piece, others will expect it in the future. Fudge! Now I have to learn how to do this.... grumble grumble..
|| Posted on 2006-05-06 00:00:00 | by Chell | [ Reply to This ] || Nice job once again my friend.|
What I really like about this is the pictures you inserted into this and the way thay it made the write lay out something that hasn't been seen reallt been seen here before.
|| Posted on 2006-05-06 00:00:00 | by armand | [ Reply to This ] || Graeme|
This is outstanding
I take this write as a trip thru ones mind while they are tweaking or totally absorbed in mushrooms
This really is an outstanding write
You captured such incredible imagery with each word
Fantastic Job Yet Again My Friend
|| Posted on 2006-05-06 00:00:00 | by Ronswords | [ Reply to This ] || I have a mind so much bigger than my life, and that's what this makes me think of. All the interesting places I go in my mind... there are often willows and goats... are we in the same trip? lol. . . Anyway, excellent depictions/images whatever you want to call them in this dreamlike piece. You know what I want to say... after all, we both sing with goats. I don't know anything about breakfast at tiffany's, but I know that I enjoyed this write all the way up to when you drag me back to my normal cell-phone weilding life.|
thanks for writing
|| Posted on 2006-06-28 00:00:00 | by parabola | [ Reply to This ] || see every now and again i find something really good and when i do i feel like there isnt much to say because theres no critique to make..i mean..i dont spot any wrongs, and i dont wanna go off on some random rap about some tiny thing when overall the piece if good ya know... so i automatically feel like the people who were clever or worl-weary or just...kickass enough to write this stuff must assume im an effin idiot because i never say anything good. and even now im not saying anything good..im explaining why i dont say anything good though, and i hope thats enough..||| Posted on 2006-07-01 00:00:00 | by EEKS | [ Reply to This ] || This leaves me speechless- I have nothing constructive to say because I see nothing wrong- I have nothing witty to say because my mind is drifting far away in those images you conjured- the pictures and layout were awesome as well- I love that you said declared war on modern art and said you scaled the hill back to utopia and threw that in with ties and cell phones- how funny, I hope that was sarcasm :). I love the river and willow references (I have been mildly fixated on rivers and willows of late)I'm afraid I sound like a babbling idiot but truly I loved this and I am making it a favorite.||| Posted on 2006-07-25 00:00:00 | by laursal | [ Reply to This ] |