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Muse you come like the devil,
like a larcenous lady of the evening,
secretly seductive in your simple return,
luring me in with that bedroom finger,
"come hither", you call,
but I've laid with you before and you left me diseased,
I cured myself and found freedom, only to
meet your death-promise gaze around an unmarked corner,
the next aisle of books unwritten,
you'll fake your promises again, I know,
and this time I'm not going to believe,
the eyes of poets tell lies like lightning,
the striking bolts burn off the trampled grass,
the seeds ripe for harvest,
soon I'll eat ten or a thousand or a million,
but there's no nutrition in a paltry diet of words.
Oh muse, please just pass on to the next
generation's voice and leave me be, a job,
a family, a city, and a mission,
let me live the life I'm born for,
let me create my own little kingdoms
and sit for life on brittle thrones
with vision too blurred to see
the begging masses dying to find
a cause to die for,
let me turn my ears deaf to the
cries of a forlorn generation on the
brink of eternal oblivion,
don't curse me with your divine calling,
don't make me sick with words again.
------------------------------
Shake off the shackles of the delirious doledrums walk,
the day by day dissolution of the soul,
consciousness disintegrates in the acid bath
of the capitalist conspiracy, slowly
snaking its way 'round your ankles,
smack that serpent's head before it sucks
you down into the deep green swamp,
cheap thrills exchanged for daytime chain
gangs of the institutional minds,
they'll straighten out those crooked thoughts,
box in your octopus mind,
the straight line toed to the false
leprechaun jackpots, eyes leading the
stray whims back to the digital darkness,
the bitter stains on a bruised and rotting
soul, you sell yourself cheap, and once
you've taken the glittering bait, the
hook digs deep into the roof of your mouth and
pulls the humanity thread out of your
skull, through your nose, a bloody
string of spent inspirations and drowned
desires fished out for a few worthless
dollars, so recognize the hook's point now,
stay still long enough for the line to
go slack, and wiggle that fish head
out of the barb's grasp ever so
gently, don't become the fisherman's
dinner when you all you really want is
a quiet rock and a clean, warm lake.
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The lattice threads of a poorly-woven year
pass through alcohol-filter fingers on
the year's last weekend, let the
shattered pieces fall away,
hands left cut and bloodied as the forgotten
knives stab one more time, dig the gold
dust droppings of treasured days out
of the stinging scar-forming gashes,
pass through the fiery gates of another
tortured calendar and stay clear of
hidden land mines ahead, the lie detector's
on the high setting, don't let its incessant
beeping and buzzing drown out the
siren's lullaby, beckoning a dream-wise
turn to the coast of the new year,
she keeps the lighthouse ablaze through the
epochal storms that drown the
casual beachcomber and capsize the
luxury dreamliners poisoned by the nightmare
disease, but the seasoned mariner
holds the oars close while the waters
pass over, holds his breath until
the whispered lullaby become a piercing
rock and roll shriek,
she's calling you into the new year,
she's calling you forward to the
abandoned hopeful shores, she's leading you
to the holiday dreams of a
sin-soaked city,
heed the siren's pop song call.
------------------------------
Lawrence Ferlinghetti gave an excellent interview to Amy Goodman of Democracy Now next week. Something good tro watch while you nurse the New Year's hangover. http://www.democracynow.org
Happy New Year! May unexpected goodness and random miracles dot the road of chance occurrences that will be your fate in 2008.
