A's Ascent

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by Main St Wizard, May 12, 2004.

  1. Main St Wizard

    Main St Wizard Member

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    I posted this before on my previous name.. but as of late I've seen devastating effects of mental illness in my friends & even once & again myself.. so this poem has a particular resonance with me.. It's rather obscure, but perhaps you can find some personal value in it?

    "A's Ascent"
    by Derrick Stuart
    May-June 2003

    It is a litany of Absolute Zero- poised phenomenal
    on the poems' couch for yet another virtual evening
    fresh from the backroom's debauchery
    We thought you were naive (then) but you have crossed
    the poles more & more successfully than I. You're an Actor!
    & should be proud of your accomplishments, 'specially
    at your age.
    One sneak-peak at your inherited serenity, promised &
    restored for ALL ETERNITY everlasting- instant herbal
    decline; the dance's predestined improvisation reveals
    elder marriage- you're gonna be real important someday.
    I'm impressed by the diversity of Life.
    Suicide was, when rattled by the rush, bewildered, drowning!
    confounded even with issues blatant, flamboyant with turmoil;
    At the end of thy Rope- (just like him!)- "everyone's tryin' it"-
    THIS IS WHY! It ceases to be by metaphysical randomness
    all defined without specification- like the wager, a future without
    All canceled by headache. Percussive, guilty, and (beyond a shadow of
    righteous are thou. An alternative Casanova, no need for crystal to
    or impress, a victim of magic & memory. You watch your own language!
    666 does not claim thee any longer- although the glittering (but still
    irony being that our hearts are fill'd to the golden brim, with
    (Love claims thee still- everafter,
    Love love love love love love)
    A someday CEO, radical, with Gatsby dynamic-
    Time lost in the phone-call nostalgia which denies
    the confidences of the big-house by the river
    Where distortion produced, smoke & headaches w/
    hormonal poetics-
    lost like you in
    the 19 car
    for it is you & I who alone await
    The Second Coming, from the
    alligator lonely reform of San Jose's distance.
    An unabridged philanthropist already from the
    screenplay's Portsmouth shout.

    Rock is dead
    'Cos it's been slaughtered
    Maybe you can recycle it
    And call yourself a martyr.

    "Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?" Yes, ever
    get that feeling that you're no longer there? And
    ever get the feeling you're in L-O-V-E? Wow.
    Ever get that funny feeling that you are the Darkness?
    and then no longer?
    The smoke signals have ended 'bove the subdivision's beige Temple.
    And ever get that feeling- that you are Christ? I have, sometimes,
    in the desperate showered moments...
    ... and I'm singin' in the rain
    just singin' in the rain
    what a marvelous feeling
    I'm happy again.

    But where were you when my eyes were paint'd
    like the Madness? And the cards' Apocalypse knocked
    on my window (with the blue lights, even)? When the
    cable went out? When my poem crossed the
    state line?
    You were off in the days in nicknames.
    One for drink. One for herb. One for muse.
    A catalogue of monikers designated to move 'cross
    the broad human experience.
    And then you were a figure, solitary & guilt-stricken
    in the overhead circle. A luminous sphere without
    description! (maybe a radius in the 7 rays)
    How ecstatic, confusing this musta been-
    coming face-to-face high above our material world
    to the long-admired Spirit.
    A voice. A cinema of self.
    In this, you see the sinfulness of apathy
    (that the connection you should cut,
    the one you should certainly crucify is
    thy own wrongdoing).
    But all of this boils down to a number.
    And Jehovah's fated number is 23!
    Twenty-three to connect,
    to purify,
    to walk,
    to love & save-
    (the end which of course IS 23)

    And you were my friend.
    And you are my friend.

    And what did you say
    unto the Source
    O incarnation of Comedy?
    "Alright. I'll go
    I'll go in peace.
    I'll go for my dad: 007
    In Peace
    I'll go for the shelves of Atlantis, long-missed
    In peaceful peace, peacefully
    I'll go for the girls of the party
    Who took all from me
    By making me feel my way across
    the White Garden ('specially when made moist or damp)
    And enter.
    I'll go for my own unchanging room
    (and those lined-up in the womb waitin'
    for the days of dying and those, too,
    layered in tombs who cant wait for
    their chance)
    I'll go for the animated laughter of Colorado.
    I shall go for the censure of the inhumane
    and even more so, their all-too-human prey
    For my own dark thoughts and the dark thoughts of all
    For my own righteous thoughts and the righteous thoughts of all"
    Hooray for Hollywood!
    "I shall go cool for the jazz of the Slavs.
    For the majesty tangled about the magnetism
    w/ the courage of the jacuzzi, and I shall
    turn the heads, talking w/ their talk-talk
    from the society of destruction
    and up America to St. Elmo's Fire
    dancing as it often does
    O Vikings of thought, O raven-light
    tribe of belief, look ye
    upon the color of America.
    The power & inner-strength to open the pickle jars (even
    though I hate them) and reach with our human limbs,
    from the vast bourgeois gutter, w/ spastic motions
    for the candle
    (but instead grope the lightning
    & thunder Thor's helmet)
    It is the Monolith that in its cardboard chronicle
    seeks us.
    Politics is weakness.
    I remember it all, hark ye
    & lift thy detached hearts
    to the Bridge,
    hear ye the angelic pornographic
    Choirs of the Doom;
    the sensitivity of this bored hour
    & its lone encyclopedia
    Look you! through the blackness
    the fickle headlights doth pass the Grail
    unto the maze of TV towers & (We are going off-the-air!
    their wires span the Earth and the sky. yea, onward to Syndication)

    wonder where they'd lead us if we followed
    but their gifts burn bright; stay true
    and drown the silence of broken Americana
    in her home, and mine, and
    yours. Finally an elixir I remember,
    the satellite, y'know man, it is a-leadin'
    us back to Glory- some spirit- a mother
    Sophia from which ours is but
    perpendicular from Her firm breasts, high
    And the correspondence is saved against the lies.
    And the triumph taught the pavement, a volcano
    a real ass-kicking the crowds erupted with applause
    as all turned into sand

    Spanish solitaire
    a dance of my Arabic pride
    Passed-out from affection
    the paints are on the canvas
    and tell us still of Love love love love
    love love love love here, therefore everlasting
    everywhere! Jesus died for our sins. Politics
    is weakness! Call the chord
    and tell 'em 8 remaining years
    then lucky seven

    Watch there, the vulgar comedians dance Jerusalem

    I'll go with the seen-cross cultural icon, with glory
    but without dirt riches, with pleasures of the flesh
    I'll go for my two houses
    We weep at the Masque
    and throw praise for the comic unknown
    And I shall go
    In Peace
    To: 23, O my Lord,
    dear Song, In Peace
    I shall go
    Em hotep!
    For the video game that
    It is
    I shall go, indeed
    in the Lamb's peace
    in the Lamb's place
    Where O where do the hours go? The the Flood
    Haze, description of the scene
    In peace I shall indeed go
    Em hotep!"
  2. sweetdreadlover

    sweetdreadlover TattooedRainbowGurl

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    whoa...what kind of deep intense writing did i just read??...niiiice...

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