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Brian Murphy
New Member
since 2000-04-19
Posts 1
Athens, GA

0 posted 2000-07-02 01:00 AM


Introduction

To understand me,
To understand anyone,
To understand anything,
You have to know where it's coming from
This isn't the beginning,
But it might as well be.
You see, I'm not talking about
History or Biography.
I'm talking about constitution.
Not chronological experience,
But what those experiences equal,
When consummated within the individual.
This is just a starting point.


Jazz

I told my dad I was concerned about his drinking.
He took it as an affront
And counterattacked with a blitzkrieg of *@#* yous;
The coup de force: Get Out!
He didn't mean it
For the fifth night in a row.

All I want to do
Is walk alone through a park
Under the soft glow lights
And waxy magnolia leaves
To figure some things out.
I wish I could hear, there,
The spectre songs of some saxophone
Wisping through steamy city streets
Like hot clouds exhaled from heavy iron plates
Gillespy, Davis and Coltrane must have heard these,
And made them their own lamentations.
Made their pain beautiful and sweet
Like innocence.
Maybe these could share my bohemian dissatisfaction
But there is no connection.


Eyes

The windows to the soul are hands.
Hands are our most awkward parts.
One never knows what to do with them.
Fidgety, I stick mine deep in my pockets
So they don't reveal my secrets.
The man across the bar, sitting in a booth
With two beauties has hands that act on their own.
This guy is the casa nova smooth operator
That sold his soul to the devil
To lose those uncertain hands.
He has become a predator.
His hands are demons like his heart
I will hide my hands
Until they find a task.
Eyes are more deceptive than hands,
Deep wells that seem to sink forever
In crystal pools,
Are really superficial.
They can change with a blink
From honest to sinister
With complete subtlety.
Don't trust eyes; the man in the corner
Has mastered them.
His eyes have hypnotized his beauties,
Deceived them for all they wish to see
With an enchanting glimmer.
My eyes are as uncertain as my hands,
But they are easier to mask.
My hands pin me against the wall
Like writing.


[This message has been edited by Brian Murphy (edited 07-02-2000).]

© Copyright 2000 Brian Murphy - All Rights Reserved
Forrest Cain
Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306
Chas.,W.V. USA
1 posted 2000-07-02 01:35 AM


Brian overall I liked very well, especially the last two stanzas, though each following the other seemed to be better. I`m sure
when elyse and the other poet guru's evaluate this they gave give you much better
direction. I can only say that there were
power in your words.

forrest

Elyse
Member
since 2000-04-16
Posts 414
Apex (think raleigh) NC
2 posted 2000-07-02 06:12 AM


This, my dear brian, was excellent.  not a fan of the into though, i must confess.  

i might punctuate %^&* yous with quotes ("@#$% you"s or something like that.

Cassanova i beleive was some dude's name, anyway, i know it should be one word.  

otherwise, i found this incredibly graceful and skillful, and look forward to seeing what next you post.  Simply a lovely poem.
luv Elyse

Paula Finn
Member Ascendant
since 2000-06-17
Posts 5546
missouri
3 posted 2000-07-02 11:36 AM


I cannot critique I can only say the way you take me through your thoughts is powerful, deceptively so.
YeshuJah Malikk
Member
since 2000-06-29
Posts 263

4 posted 2000-07-03 11:12 AM


Brian, this is exceptionally crisp for a rough draft.  The multiple viewpoints flow in and out of each other seamlessly.  This is way cool.  I look for the finished product.

YeshiuJah*)

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