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 againTry 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
©1999 John Paul Powell. Not to be used without permission.Sign the Guestbook.