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| Craig Moore |
| Universe Mirror with sunlight upon the water the golden silence is also heard universe mirror we must look into the shattered glass reflection, time and space deep memory within where the silence is all around towering black flame shadows on the angry written wall in the hieroglyphic under-worlds in the past and in the future just a blade of grass cutting the sweet air in the early dawn of creation through abysmal remembrances a nothing upon a nothing sees manifold mythos beginning life where the very dream has no end from the very seeds of light as unknown stars return |
| Poetry I |
| i i did not write this as i was never here i was else where i was everywhere i was nowhere in particular i was a jazus in a mad carnival i was a alien machine i was a silver moon i was in a cave i was a savage i was a wyrd of light, in the sky i was in a vast desert i was a nomad out in the sands that spoke to me, in a dream told me of the woman beast to come, to be carved out of the egyptian sands, i was told it would be a sphinx i was to prepare the birth of this creature, prepare the way for her rising up out of the sands, i was her guardian, across the ancient spaces, i knew only HER voice she was wise beyond time, i was watching for a sign from the universe, since the beginning of nothing, solar cat goddess through the myth studded sky i was arriving at this glyph tattood door somewhere in the archaic valley floor the poem i was, began somewhere in a lonely desolate landscape, SHE stood tall on her hind haunches and made a great HOWL She came to avenge the secret of true dream then she sat down into a stone language of a future, an ever present riddle until the end |
| Ghost Mumma Ghost Mumma..wheel!...you got my number... i grovel, and i beg, just let me lick your black leather leg!...grind yo black spike heel into my third eye, make me cry, weep and wail, and moan!....i just want to talk to you on the phone...my bone is flipt to the flim jag junk monk jujuka ya ya gumbo... i am scat - and you are alogical... i am badcat...and you are door.. i am unworthy...and you are my wyrdy God is a woman and she is pissed and black!!! whip my lily back, until it bleed, you knnnooowww! what i be needen!...make jazz on my ass skin! |
| contact the poet: nuit@adelphia.net |
| comments: judih@hotmail.com |
| The Pen Pipe if the pen is mightier then the sword then the pen is either in service to the sword or is not juxtaposed to it rather the pen is a much more at once primitive and absolutely modern ritual tool a artifact without origin that exists on another tangential intangible like a hollow tube that also allows for a way to look down a narrow view passage wherein the ink flows from india or other imaginary source of a eon spelled out from mother tongues it transforms endlessly the pen the penultimate the pentagramic body of light written on threads of sight opening a myriad of timeless texts turning around a hub of harmonic reflections drawn from its apex the pen x makes its infinity mark and makes dance lines of all natures i nature revealed ---------- pass the finger that points at the moon and dip it in rain and make a raindance happen on the window pane pass around wet balls of universes on the clear surface just smear it around as if it were transparent what the light glass and rain say or if there is no rain then find a crayola and begin to color me like some black night and leave some tiny holes where the nothing lets the stars in like Leonard would say the crack that lets the light in thats how the light gets in Drag On We enter the blind spot between a flag and a symbol shatter our illusions in a flash in a pan and a siddhe is what you encounter at the far side of grail town they set you up to see the renegade image they wave it in your face until its beyond your comprehension to remember that somehow we got this way not by a mythic story that appears suddenly in a bent in the glory of some quantum Chinese checkers its the power of the image that contains the holy power to make your own flame mask to make paper thin shadow box games to write right through the concrete reality like a painting angelic hoodoo clown dressed for the circus of rain dressed for the art and when you get the roll its time to play the part drag on you ragged ephemeral rag tag army of one, be your own band of gypsy magicians and follow the path less taken even less than the first one less taken, until you have gone in a full fools circle under a watermelon sun until the ancient lessons are a thing of the past and its all arrived at the oasis of the final and fast we are entering a chump change strange days with the whammy bar on full tilt whirly gig hurly gnarly charley so sorry no time for fortune cookie crumbs when the photons get as big as jackal lanterns and the little colored marbles are lost for the last chance blood trail written in invisible ink along the hocus pocus street of our marvelous revolt we shall decipher the late great forgotten utterance of universal absolute fractal forevers blurted out by rude rainbow rip tide tongues in the head of bums we shall hum nasty hymns to the hotel maze hot to trot through the meltin doors of persimmon moons as we roll UFO bowling balls down the haunted halls of history about to end for good of evil it all depends on the decision some homeless soul makes when a gigantic traveler asks for directions down in the po side of sideshow grail town Hell Yes I'm Old When I'm Old toss me out with the trash toss me out with the yesterdays newspapers toss me out with religion and politics toss me out toss me out with the blues toss me out with the rising sun, toss me out like some piss stained box of dead poems toss me out with the funeral flowers, the obituary and the prayer coaster from some god awful bible belt town in hell toss me out if I'm sick toss me if I'm well, don't matter none to the young and busy tailed, toss me in the junk heap of my dreams in the idea that this life was ever my own to experience to live to enjoy I don't know where I ever got that from anyway, the leders look at me aghast, why don't I live in the past I was a TV baby like Ginsberg said I was a drop out from society like Time Leary intoned, i was a draft doger like we said as we marched in the streets against the Nam war, I ran as fast as I could from the world that they told me to change, or give in to, my motto was "who me work" like Maynard G. Crebs I thought I was being cool, i grew my hair long and they tossed me out of high school I took a lot of LSD to see what I could see and it opened my eyes to the universe within and all my relatives thought I was livin in sin whats a poor boy to do, I didn't want to kill people in Asia didn't want to be a cog in a death machine, see what I mean, I was seventeen and then eighteen I had to register for the draft and I had to talk to some shrink cuz they said I was schizo if i didn't want tot learn how to kill women and children in some rice paddy village so thats how my life started Nam, LSD, and Dylan so i read the Beats and i found some solace there I found some beauty in the flowers in the deep shit so toss my out like confetti at new years as i write this late at night it feels like it just flashed before my eyes like an old poem toss me in the gutter toss me in the hole toss me in the recycling bin and I'll wake up in foam toss me in the salad toss me in the dirty sink I'm no rat fink but toss me in the drink Lovesong to Madness ...madness, do not go stay awhile and mirror the horror, of the lies we consume to appear sane... madness my friend in you i see images of all that must whirl the hurlyburly we call playing the game... madness oh bonfire of love and hate, curl your flames above and open heaven and hells gate expose the fear in me, and goad me too to invision what is truly great, open thy torpid state and reveal the black and white red alchemy of they transformed consummate marriage in bliss and psychedelic glory forever amen, madness be done... and i shall marry the moon and the sun. When the Star Opens Fire saxophone antlers glow amber raz mataz hocus jyp jive jag yr smoken alphabet lava magmuma im in a wyrd man i aim to be as wyrd as i can as a bird man, tuning out the static in my brain i live in the green glyphic rain im a rune man, a power eye looking at the jazz snake signs changing from S to Z to ZERO in a blink transforming the frozen sounds of desire im a ju ju ya ya junk funk person watchin the lies go by on the endless sound byte im a LIL babe in an egg of blue fire cool time im a black cat jumpin out the light im the first and the last improvisation true im a gypsy fool on my own, jinn king nomad king nothing i reign over the land of the dead playing the death card like a mirror of bliss that goes round a ghost moon of itself changing into a small ocean sun, a rare coin of kaos searchin for the black sun notes tell it like it is, i listen to the silence i listen to the Monk Thelonious until the end im a moon moody midnight round blowin the nasty be-bop tunes like crow dice a rollin the mo mo's the so so's and the ho ho's enflamed dots those feather flame doors ajar a flappin a pan pipe of pandoras paradox jujuka fun a coincidence of opposites, again and again where the revolution turns beyond sin, a spin language begins, revolvin, digressen, evolven... |