Custom Search

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

JEALOUS MAN, A Description

A Description

I have never figured myself a jealous man.
Maybe when I was much younger,
During my teen years, I had a bit of a streak,
And, later, toward the end of the drinking life,
Elements of my character became magnified,
True, especially for the worst parts.

Liquor always brought me to morbidity.

I became lost, crazy, think was upside down.
My bending of the elbow grew to obsession,
That was the mode, coloring my every move.

But you know the story, Honey. Hallelujah!

I was saved. For me, like Saint Paul’s,
A miraculous conversion, blinded by the light,
I had been born free, citizen, Roman, holding rank,
Armed upon steed, death squad commander,
Who served at pleasure of god, Caesar,
To whom I pitched incense, and swore
Allegiance, knowing to act otherwise
Would mean pain of exile,
To be banished from Rome forever.

What a story! Knocked from horse, and
When the saint rose up, up from that ground,
From the road outside Damascus,
He had not only raised himself,
But us up, too, making for us all seats together,
Heavenly places, in the church of Christ, Jesus.

Forgive me. I digress, and what I call miracle
May in my case be exaggeration for a more pedestrian,
Everyday experience, I fell to panic attack, seizure,
Or was it alcoholic psychosis? Simply put, I went nuts.

Leibchen, Ich habe ganz verrueckt gegangen!

However the therapies label, it certainly stopped
My practice of daily imbibing,
And took from me the terrible habit
And set me on steps toward character improvement.

Allow me here more common fare,
And borrow ready, simple conceit,
To come to full circle, to describe
How today my affection takes all too zealous turn,
That thinking about you and the things that adorn you
Has delivered me prey to the green-eyed monster.

When your stockings lay in bedroom bureau,
When you lived with me here in our home,
I would open the drawer and look upon them,
The pang I would feel lay in what I could not…
For unlike them, I could not caress your entire leg!

Then I grew jealous of your buttons and zippers.

You might say, using strongest intonation, “Stanley!
“How can you be jealous of innocent items?
“How can you be jealous of objects,
“Please, things like my own buttons and zippers?”

But I must retort, not so innocent at all!
For they hold you in so many intimate places,
And stay with you the whole day long, even now,
Now, when you are gone, utterly absent from my side!

The devil possesses me for my ardor so extreme,
I have become jealous of your shoes, because,
And you must have guessed the reason,
They hold your feet and take you away from me.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

CRAZY LOVE, Sorry Interlude
Sorry Interlude

I am at a loss, dumbfounded,
Neither you nor I have forgotten the depth,
The big range of ready affection,
We always felt exceptionally well-suited,
We were great couple in many ways…

You yourself proclaimed our special bond.
One early, Sunday evening, mid August,
We stood at the corner,
Seventh Avenue at Twenty-Fourth Street,
Awaiting the turn from red, a traffic light signal,
When I told you of a recent article from Science Times,
The every Tuesday section of the New York Times,
It reported the outside perimeter,
A year and half at tops, the intensity of romantic love,
The passion subsides that quick scientist argue.

“Oh!” You immediately demurred,
We had not even crossed the Avenue, before
You took exception, challenged the current science,
And proclaimed, and said “Not for us!”
You professed the special heat, how our romance,
Our romance more akin eternal flame,
Not subject to normal wane of heart’s intensity.

My soul took flight; my love ran to ecstatic,
I felt like Superman able to leap tall buildings
With single bound, I believed my power
Greater than steam locomotive,
That I ran with the speed of bullets.

Poppycock! Tomfoolery personified,
And me idiot for believing a word you might say,
By October you were gone,
Your every promise, your solemn vows, prevarication.
Everlasting love, indeed! It lasted
Bit more than a month and one half.

I am sick of it, this terrible romance,
I can not go on, it’s too sad,
Too much, the caprice,
You toss me to the ground,
The ungrateful child’s unwanted toy,
However you may have wanted me,
I exist no more, and am broken.

For both of us there’s plenty desire,
You sneak up on me and stoke
The flame which still fires your heart,
Neighbors tell me they see you,
Saying how you haunt me,
How you seem unable to let me go,
Signs the real extent,
How much you must still love me.

And I write this love poem,
Though what was once this thing of ours,
This breathe and we wondrous, beauteous mates,
Finished, driven apart, and my verse,
Pathetic exercise, sorry chapter
In story gone nowhere,
It bears title, everything about us so crazy.

Had I not become accustomed to your way,
Spent no time next to you in bed,
Were I smart enough a man,
Avoiding you in the first place,
Never saying a word to you,
Except perhaps the usual humors,
The greetings ‘Good Morning, and Hello’,
The simple inquiry about your health,
Asking the everyday about how are you,
I would never have gotten to the point,
That loathsome feeling, you love me no more.

And equally, both sad and disturbing,
That mine, the warmest of regard,
Turns to disdain, and fervent wish,
We speak no more, and I never see you again.

I feel you woman. I have the telepathic gift
To hear when you think of me, and you know it!
Right now I could clench my teeth,
Do an inward scream, whose loudness
Would awake you and disturb your sleep to dawn.

I wish I could caress you,
Practice the arts I had just started,
Oh had I more time to turn you,
To make you a slave to love, enthrall you,
But I really wish, I might have forgotten you,
Relegated your touch to darksome region,
A place free, blank, where I
No longer remember your name.

Can’t you fall in love with someone else?

I know it’s wrong for me to say,
I love you. So let me go.
Time will strengthen my resolve,
I shall move on, your chance to reconcile,
To prove your word sincere and true,
Though once here, has come and gone.

Darling, we have fallen and are amiss,
No! No joy, fruitless to embark upon a road,
A road running to distant horizon,
With its ultimate end, the final end of us.

My pledges of love, all my dreams, now lament,
My mind is rent, devastated is my heart
Neither can I live with nor without you.
I must stop it, quit my insanity
All hope of love with you makes me a sign of insanity
I may believe to love you, but the love has gone.

Sweet Talk

Out in Arizona my Dad,
He grew roses;
He embraced the great merit,
Loved to say,
How he enjoyed cultivating his own garden.

That spot he tended along side the house,
It was the love of his retirement.

I saw those roses disporting,
Performing and they were real pretty,
But I must say aloud,
They never flowered, like you,
They never looked the way
You looked tonight, darling.

Though this verse be trivia,
Fitting definition, thing of small importance,
It swears truth,
The whole truth and nothing but the truth,

You may count it among my terms of endearment.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

POEM 58, An Adaptation of a Love Poem, Gaius Valerius Catullus

POEM 58,
An Adaptation of a Love Poem,
Gaius Valerius Catullus

Johnny! It’s our Lesbia, the Lesbia,
That Lesbia, herself, the girl Stanley loved,
More than self and all he calls his own,
Now at the Great Hall, Chicago, Union Station,
Up and down the polished marble floors,
In high-heeled, black boots,
With a short skirt and bright red parasol.

Corn, she husks corn,
For any of them, Lincoln’s favored sons!

BABE RUTH, Home Run Secret

Home Run Secret

I pick a good one and sock it,
Get back to the dugout,
They ask me, what it was I hit.

I tell them I don’t know,
Except it looked good.
Custom Search