PowellPoetry a selection of poems by John Paul Powell

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PartThree

Various Lyrics a poem influenced by the buddha of Joanne

Her Fireworks

Her fireworks

Black and blue at base

Stem, the mist of her youth

The high stork stretching for the sun

And speckles of light hit midnight

Warmth to the tip of her meditations

Where she lies in beautiful innocence

The orient of her eyes

Beaming presence on my body

Unfolding the pretence

Beholder of the present

The only time, if time is named

Her tip, a hysterical mass of wonder

Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

*

Poems, Poems, Poem

Me & my keyboard

Keyboards, Well,

You know them Blending into wood

Always in my mind Gracious

The Australian keyboard frights of Johnny54

And plastic desks of boredom

Seen through the eyes of null angels

Angels whom have not yet flourished their wings

Upon sweeping, singing societies

Or broke from the ropes

As tied turtle doves

Poems will fly

Emotion will fly

Some things will die

Yet, We know ‘I still love mankind’ kind man?

Kind one!

Poems zoom by like flashlight motorway headlights

As does life

Or what we apprehend to be life

I would say to the dead today;

‘Dead… you are not dead!!… you are me!’

‘I love your god!’

‘You are the legs I stand on and trust!’

‘I am you’

To be with you what would I do?

Cry?

What a poor feat.

Stamp on my head in harmony with the roots of my baby-faced trees

Such trees of say, 20 years!

I would stamp and stamp until I became you

No need! We are we

Heed, taken from the bible, the bilio, bbibliash

Blibbibuckwinf

Dreams, dreams, dream

Cars and screams

Life and girls

Who will take my world as I know it?

Beautiful cliffs,

Waiting for the fall to wondrous waters

Great abandonment!

What a death of Dover!

The white and blue as pure as purity itself

Twenty times a day I am winning my battle against insanity

I am, I am, Iam!

The little freckled girl from Dennis

She shouts and balls and stamps her crushable feet

But Dennis is free!

Dennis is a lion!

A lion from the Allen of Ginsberg

Who will live and die?

My friends, survival is both our lowest and highest phenomenon

Depending on the tilt of your butter-kissed head

Boys, girls, brilliant moons of Jupiter,

I do not care if you have eleven lumps

And the rings of uranus from patterns of spoon moons

I just love the word Neptune!

Shining a delicate blue through simple rivers of musbury Neptune,

I hear you shout my name ‘Get me away from your far thoughts of solar systems and complicated starbursts’

‘I just wanna be a happy man !’

Me and my compatriot, Neptune, deduce from this

WE ALL LIVE TO SMILE LIKE THE DALAI LAMA!

Every cover he abuses gently with genuine blushes

The favourite, in Dobbsy’s cover of the waterstone, Manchester

The deep blue Castaneda cover, horizon and depth

Mercy Oh beauty

The clips are taken from our bodies tonight

Lets let it all hang out, like fat buddhas!

Apprehension falls from minds

Hanging like pussywillows

Throwing our dimes

Complimenting the radiance of simplicity!

Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

*

Poem

Here goes into poem land again

Try not to cling to ego's and form

Try to sway like smoke from chimneys in and out of angelic homes

of plastic cartoned ashes

clinging to the dead bodies as if the life itself is dead!

Some smoke see joke

like the yaqui Indians of Mexico and surrounding

pointing the difference in the dreamer and the dreamed

Don Genaro in his fits of spasmodic laughter

Write it on a postcard home to England

Stop breathing for me

my fingers are now following

diverging points distorted landscapes

so i will break from here from this poem.

Poor or not, I cant tell anymore, let other earthlings check it out

am i still here in this poem? Can't get out.

End.

I can't end this thing, It is me.

Ok hope you are feeling clear and well farewell for now!

Thu, 28 Oct 1999 00:28:46

*

The Rainbow Chain

The whole country of china

Lies sleeping under the

Bonsai of her cheekbones

Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

*

Earth on Heaven

All falls are still before and after

All souls were souls before our bodies rose and melted

I see the cracks in space, moreso in time

Reminding me of my overflowing bath

I see the gates of heaven rise through the mind

As beautiful as emptiness

But these legs are not moving

Dragged through the dust by poor wisecracks of teatime radio

With all their might I shall not fight

For if medals make me happy I am crying

The fist cannot chase the invisible

If I am empty I am pure

Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

*

Phone Call

The plastic telecommunications keep pushing down on my heart

His massaging voice swells

And eases its aura into an almost comfortable pressure

‘Ring me, pick me up’

Silently smokelike

‘Now…. No later! Pick me up… hands off me!

The suspense is my form of power

I am just a phone

But I am selfish too

And untrue

Just like you humans

With our malnutrition and constipations

Pick me up

But not yet

You, John, are lying in my power’

Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

*

Phone Call 2

Listen Mr phone, I know you can hear me

My fingers were scratching the fragile glass of your suspense

I was there at the phone

And you knew it

So you phoned me

Are you my girlfriend?

Beautiful as a fleeting thought

Sunstars and tornadoes

Tortilla and funky disco dancing

Your suspense will lurk next time

I am sure of this

I could have conquered

But you made it easy for me

Next time the heart massage will last longer

But I must be stronger

For you are just a phone

And my eyes cannot see as warriors see

As the Indians see

I can only beat you through my own lovely ignorance

And where is the point in that?

Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

*

Phone Call 3

Pure phone

Smooth phone

All appearance

But your power and perseverance

Lie knowingly in your heart

Sun, 7 Nov 1999 19:47:34

PartFour

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