Benzodiazepine
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Description:
just this vague generalness.
Benzodiazepine
Blow me a lily from the stem of your neck crossing at the corner of 1st and Avondale. Brush off these nickel-plated clouds like my grandfather's army suit on a Tuesday afternoon. Fall with me towards the club - swing or jazz forgetting itself for a moment, Keep time waiting just outside the door. The sign on the window says we're all doing well we’re all doing well we’re all doing well, So sing that sick breeze into my throat like porch swings hung from willow branches and lay your hands on this neatly pressed flannel. I am a radio dial playing nothing but tuna fish and aluminum. |
Submitted on 2016-07-11 23:50:41 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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| Your vague generalness is sort of vague awesomeness. As in I am walking downtown in the evening and maybe I am a little tipsy, or maybe a little high, seeing things sideways, like the way you do when you're in such states, and it's clear yet distorted, and very slow, you know? Like slow enough to grab. Reach up and pinch those nickel-plated clouds. Feel their bulbous and impending shape; melt yourself into their desire to rain. And you're up for anything, you're suggestive, and maintaining only enough control not to end up somewhere naked wrapped in only a flag and sipping some unknown brew from a polystyrene cup. So there it is. It's kind of like The William S. Burroughs spitting beatific nonsense in The Naked Lunch. Love that radio dial, flicking on and off the stations just long enough to catch a note or two. Brilliant and cynical and understated. | Posted on 2016-07-25 00:00:00 | by BlankSheet | [ Reply to This ] | This sorta floats on like a daydream. I'm thinking of the Cheshire Cat. I can't think of a reason why that is, but there you are. | It's sorta aware of itself, as a poem, but in a "yeah, I know who I am, deal" kinda way. Not overly pretentious. In case you're worried that that's what I meant. This comment is overly aware of itself. That last line is pure Tom Robbins, and I love it. Something minor: Blow me a glass lily from the stem of your neck crossing at the corner of 1st and Avondale. I think something about the glassblowing image and the wine glass (?) image are conflicting. I think they can work in harmony, just not in this particular way. It's nearby, though. | Posted on 2016-07-14 00:00:00 | by etheror | [ Reply to This ] | This poem, for some odd reason, reminded me of the lyrics to I Can't Get No (Satisfaction). | When I'm watchin' my TV And a man comes on and tells me How white my shirts can be But he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke The same cigarrettes as me. I realize I'm way out in left field with this comparison...but that last line..."play nothing but tuna fish and aluminum" sounded like a play on consumerism (like some of the lines in ICGN(S). Although, the beginning of the song doesn't speak to me the same way, It sounds like a tribute - to someone. Maybe to your grandfather or to someone of equal comparison and importance? In any case, it's different...the mood definitely takes a swing from beginning to end. Again, I'm sure that was your intention...to take the reader somewhere else. Now, the "Fall with me towards the club..."...sexual tones? Nah...but maybe. Many complex notes here...many. Kind of like a nice pinot noir... Speaking of wine...it is that time... Thanks for sharing, K | Posted on 2016-07-12 00:00:00 | by krs3332003 | [ Reply to This ] | |
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