It has no beginning
no end
no title
just a jumble of lines
a stroll through Time
Alice on acid
which suits my mind
for it’s National Poetry Day…
the spoken word now inked in clay
moulded, fahioned by rules
the literati judging their bias in easy chairs
when it’s but the poem of a farmer’s son laid bare
liberated from such a clutch of clucking fools.
There is no convention in dreams
no structure
therefore none in the waking hours
except the moral perversion of the church and those tyrants who judge, make obscene laws,
create wars, and perceive the populace to be the subject of their vices…
AMEN
No beginning. No end
Just a jumble of lines
no limitations for Alice
no scripted educated jargon of ‘this is the way to do it’
rub a dub dub, three men in a tub, my axiom says,
as the baker kisses the candlemaker while the bread is waxed in the hands of a virgin in the boulevards of Paris
as Don Quixote shouts across the plains of Spain
”to be free from laws is to be free of constraints, stupidity and madness.”
Babylon. Gone. Damascus in ruins. No change in the principle of warfare since Adam screwed Eve on the kitchen table while eating an apple to the core
wild roses in urns taunting their life in the raw
and useful to wrap Jesus in thorns…
All mysteries are solved with brandy and a murmur of a gypsy in your arms. And her breath on your loins
Oh wow…..under a Saracen moon
beautiful women dance in fields of white stone
their eyes on fire
their hair blown by the jasmine wind
their skirts brushing their tambourines
and the men, in silence, look on in wonder
Whisper this, dear soul, ”if god created us in his own image, why are there so many women?”
There is no past, no future, only the present,
an existence which will last forever…
Now Lorca. He is another matter, The master of whom Mona truly smiles. Purrs.
The matador of the bullring of flowers
the blood of innocence sprinkled like rosebuds on the ground of the fallen
marched to their end by the power of the bullet and the emblem of the mighty dollar.
I’m flowin’, pushing the sea as I head for the shore
to sow my seed with Sirenas who claws my back in pleasure
who dips her tongue across my thighs as a serpent spits out venom
Say nothin’ if you’re not going to improve the silence,
the echo of that silence clinging to the soul in a wilderness of snow and an atmosphere of the jilted lover
Ice on your lips. Sssssssshhhhhh!
Remarkable is the way people are duped into believing there is a God up there
when the Cosmos is alive with intelligence..
Now I must finish this jumble of lines, for today, at least,
as I’ve to settle a debt with the devil who loaned me the pen to write these words in the first place……’
But I’ve this rhyme sparking my mind
been with me for days
give me break for a coffee and I’ll borrow the pen again..
PAUSE
‘I followed their footprints in the sand for a thousand miles
the sun an unbearable light that bore no shadow
the desert seething with heat and no horizon
searching for something to ease my sadness
until I found sanity under the bough of darkness
a well of tears where countless others had quenched their thirst
and sat with the magi who gave them bread and the miracle of hope and a home to free them from the rubble and the streets of untold violence….’
TO BE CONTINUED
juandecadaqués 