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Jaded Jewels & College Pieces
| Open Poetry #10 |
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Jaded Jewels & College Pieces |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho 
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Jaded Jewels & College Pieces < !signature-->I’m so sorry, it’s difficult to write these days. Ahh, but so passionate was my gazing. I didn’t ever notice, nor did I stop when I felt the rain and my ship being tossed away. I may have been lost forever in passionate gazing right about the time a great sea serpent was striking. Saved, but only to choose. What kind of saving was that........? Saved to endure aftermaths thesis. I want to go back to the lonely beach where I wrecked my mind and swim for the broken pieces of my life but I knew by now they’d washed far away on tides. Gazing at the watery seas expectantly, but alas it mirrors only empty expressions. The sky’s an icy blue bearing long wisps of thin clouds hanging on the horizon. How can it be in only minutes my life’s composition has been forever altered. I thought to do a wild possessed Indus dance of an invention completely alien. Stepping back and viewing my suspicions, yet somehow still magnetically drawn to the unforeseen spectacle. I had never seen myself behave with such abandon. Such attention fixed around strange phenomenon. Inhibited and possessed I left my senses, emotionally toying yet joying. Awareness found myself edging irresistibly closer. I felt shadows creeping. Obviously for reasons unknown to rhyme. Returning, my emotions darkened, my heart wants to continue stubbornly, abruptly my spirit shouted “That’s enough” How quickly my thoughts fly. A blank rush to find a coat and scarf and head for morning’s horizon. Mesmerized by emotions narrow vision, an awe-struck face grimly set, hoping I’m oblivious to curiosities. I run the lip of the hill with silhouette. There down below an electric company puffs white smoke out in to the white covered valley. The lands lay traps sounds like deep shells found on sea beaches, and clear tones of an expression echo, etched in vacant thought yet I’m so suspicious of all the hearers. But never the less, approaching the house in Cashmere though somewhat quietly, put my bag down, and in my Victorian costume that I received from a communities offerings, pull out the papers I’ve carefully done and explore my new markings. I see people everyday uneasy with secret communications and watchings. I try to think they’re reasonable citizens, however I’m finding this just isn’t true. I looked blankly into a mirror but was unable to read my reflection. Though not able to see properly, I know my face was filled with expression and my whole being was involved within it’s telling. Out of place on a deserted beach with an endless sea of thought, my eyes and face are swollen with sighing's and crying's. I see my hair is as messed as my mind. My hopes grow fainter. My hands and arms are empty and I don’t know how I’ll ever get back. My strength to hope is being swallowed up by emotional laments and my mind has just tripped over another piece of bewilderment. My God, I have too many feelings. What a wreck. I busy myself trying to catch a hopeless dream. Numb thoughts make helpless efforts to spring into shape. The little left hope finds shelter inside a make shift cardboard carton I’ve put my weary heart in. I peer out watching_, nervously_, afraid to even venture beyond the box. I can’t understand how I came to be so distraught with thought and at the same time be shrouded with searing tears. Face puckered frozen with tragedy, I appear unable to undo any of the illusion which somehow grew and became an aggressive reality. Steered into sheer emotional exhaustion, where springs an identity just so noxious wreaking of idiocy, that there’s longing for days of fairy tales and ice cream, drugs the Nixon years, when we all saw the neon on the wall and had bad hair cuts or none. Or was it as in this lame generation, stalking a turf and leaving lame graffiti tags, reminding everybody who you were or was, how white or how black. What a legacy. Are you a “Mountain Dew” Or a “Dope smoking leisure obsessed hedonist” plagued with the ongoing responsibility of being “cool” or should I say “chillen.” They do seem to be able to change identities as often as their underwear, that is of course, if they do in fact have any underwear, and what of their sweet ethical doctrine, holding that only what is pleasant or has pleasant consequences is intrinsically good..? What a religion..! What became of that philosophy..? Only a few years back this life was swarming with “hippies” and a mellow “free love” vigilance prevailed for a time. Hovering like a Patchouli induced smog while munching pistachios. These would-be’s could have fit perfectly back then along with their doctrine holding that behavior is motivated by the desire and devotion especially to pleasure of the senses and of course the avoidance of pain. Then, too our notion was to just have a ball, never considering or knowing consequences. At the time I even felt it my duty to point out the prevalence of such statement. We could care less that the “bell bottomed” pants didn’t fit. And the shoes we were wearing that came from Salvation Army counters generally cramped our feet, but did we care..? Hell no! We had a statement to tell. You listened to our cries for years and now your ears are tired and deafened to the call. Your in the zenith of your lives at the highest point attainable above the observer’s horizon........ You sit there orchestrating spiders in a web who are profiting nothing. When I was young my thinking had been constantly corrupted by people and their demonstrative displays of affection in public parks and such, drinking and smoking. Scrutinizing carefully, my own parents moves didn’t always line up at all with the way they were teaching. (referring to “home front” teaching) and all the time they were seemingly oblivious to our curiosities, while at the same time trying to shelter us from their worst nightmares... and look at us now that they’re gone. Where do we run to but right back to the rhymes. So I write a series of poorly written and pretentious pleas to halt people’s attention as to where they are going or coming and will they ever hear? I don’t think so, they’re all so busy doing. So I read my horoscope today December 19th. says, “You are doomed. Consider suicide. The pain before you is more than Job could’ve handled. Do an overdose of drugs, show everyone how you’ve become spontaneous take your life.” Very Nice I was at the campus church and the rector told us “the postman always rings twice” but the spiritual express guy just rings once. If you need him, wait at the door. What could that mean? I walked out the door, & met a passer-by and he said today is a good day for love. Try 13th and Cherry, it’s only twenty bucks. I got down to the synagogue and some one told me that what I was experiencing was reality. I went down to “Head to Toe” mental health and they wanted to give me some Thorazine and take my clothes. Said it was time to change all those personal habits that others find so repulsive and get some one to do your laundry while your gone, and for God’s sake, stop putting deodorant on the outside of your shirt & set the little boy free while your chained to a gurney, if he comes back then it was meant to be, but don’t squander this opportunity to leave town as soon as possible. If you got it see a doctor... go, and get rid of or have it fixed in a hurry. I thought I’d better do something with my body before somebody dumped me on the west side. You’re really psyched, tomorrow’s the Alpha Alpha Alpha barnyard party and this pretty little dish that’s picking ya up & that I’m going with, scored a bottle of “Rohibynol” & is drinking “White Lighting” wearing nothing but a silk cape..! My friend tells me not to worry, that this guarantees that all eyes will be on “her” and maybe you for a little while. My friend says next week is the Squeegee Island Party and he’s got nothing to wear. Everything he’s got is stained. “That means used.” I tell him. “...Try the nude Casual Debutante look and your sure to be a hit.” Get a ticket and a bag of popcorn, & make sure you look the part when you get there with that hot little “slushy” ensemble you set me up with last week, be sure and let ‘em know what your made of. Alternative Words I used to think I knew something about english lit. Now I think I’m a “slob.” The old gang has grown quite tired of reading the same old crap around here. They like the sleazy way I tell it. I told a friend I wondered why people were taking their vacation here, when everyone else was home for Xmas. They asked me for the title of my thesis, the only thing that came to mind was “Alternative Words.” They told me to leave out that chapter. I felt it was as bad as my unruly hair that I hadn’t brushed in daze. I was asked what I would be wearing to the Squeegee party, I said “nothing” Ha..! (I could hardly believe this collegiate kid stuff, and even worse, I used to do it, “what am I saying..!” Here I am doing it again) But, as it was...“I had a black layered ensemble that was going to look thrown together” but actually took hours for me to find and select out of a dusty basement, it was an old tux suit coat with tails, red vest and white tee shirt topped off with a faded monotone color, “mis-buttoned” pair of 501 bell bottomed Levis. Sure to catch some little girls I. I found most of it in the dressing room just under street level behind the Drama Building on the C.C. campus. I though it was a real score. No matter what though I couldn’t be a GenXer of today. Geners in my day thought that acid was cool, talked about the times to come a lot, and continually wrestled with the disparity between reality and idealism. I had to leave those stooges on hippy hill in the University District along with their scrappy ideas. I dropped some of those freaks off at the waffle house in the Fremont district during the sixties and seventies free speech movement, when they were marching on the freeways for who knows what reason. You remember those yuppie middle class friends..? Well, we are a little in the past. Do a little soul research. You might even be able to find some of those head bands and beads that were still in your tender radar range. Enticing..? The world today is a budding techno mecca, and just as ever as much mesmerizing. These new “Geners” are a captive audience, caught in a crossfire. I wonder what will happen when they’re ready for their retire..? Shall I treat them as people treat me? They have sure redefined “Techno” since I was a kid, recollecting the mysterious. It’s kind of quiet now, most of the kids have retreated to December’s home front freezes, crying huddled masses in front of Xmas trees. But there are those few who are still hangin’ around and can be found this evening in puddles of their own vomit on the CC campus bathroom floor. You do know those bathrooms have killer acoustics? I Spent some time there playing a Silvertone guitar mom gave me years back, I was one of those who tried for years to find that ultimate sound. ker-plup..! I can even remember when my dainty doggy committed her suicide. My poor little heart was broken for hours. I can almost feel my heart vibrate furiously, then liquefy. If that happened today, I would think it to be some kind of divine resonance from above. But I still find myself from time to time, crying, and drooling in my wine. I see how that my past has formed a rock solid base for this broken heart to live in. It seems all I can see and hear is the thunderous, grinding, pelvis-driven women in next to no clothes, even at ten below zero. Sloths, trying to ski in the snows of the greats, yea even the Limey greats such as myself who are helping them still to find direction, and believe me it looks like they captured the miserable, aimless, existential nature of my soulless generation too, these disillusioned nuts & doxy's spewed forth from the capitalist Shan-gri-la of the sixties into this cultural techno wasteland of two thousand. Writing isn't just something I do, it's something I am. To write of feelings that touch all hearts in some manner is my delight. -Marge Tindal [This message has been edited by lucky (edited 11-16-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Dale W. Gwaltney - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Exceptional reflections... a mini thesis of your life and its affected passages and how can I benefit the world or did I? I love the reference to the late 60's and early 70's. It seemed like the idea at the time buck the capitalistic system and Uncle Sam's ravages in the far east....but...at least you told the truth..did we care? hell no!........ far out, groovy, turned on, balling the local street harem, consensually.....I even remember the Silvertone guitar (went to Simpson Sears and played them off the shelf) Finally you reach today and I agree with your synopsis of our progress....a superficial technological inhuman giant luring us with meism advertising and electronic dollars... but the truth is we are on hard times more than we know and many use the excuse that population has grown that's why we hear such horrors every day...I'm not buying it! If Uncle Sam doesn't get the right medicine he's going to rot out from the inside....... One morning in April 1999, the calm was shattered in the town of Littleton, near Denver Colorado, USA. Two youths in black trench coats entered the local high school and began shooting students and teachers. They also detonated bombs,. Twelve students and a teacher were killed, and more than twenty were wounded. The perpetrators ended the massacre by taking their own lives. They were only 17 & 18 yrs. old and had a deep hatred for certain groups......and baby I ain't being negative, I'm being a realist.. not like I was a dreamer in those years you brought back to me......ethome |
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Daniel J D Senior Member
since 2000-10-01
Posts 1471Hillcrest, Queensland, Australia |
Lucky, Wonderful write, took a while I guess. Well done. |
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lucky Senior Member
since 2000-01-17
Posts 1601Idaho |
ethome, Thank you very much... This writing came from my journels... the story is pretty much true and I was there when those people were killed too. Lucky for me and the friend I mentioned above... we were busy writing prose in the library at CC when it all came down. What times to remember huh..? Daniel, thank you for taking the time. Balladeer, thank you my friend for the editing. I went over it many times... guess I didn't catch everything. Thanks my friend. dale |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Lucky...don't look now, your jaded jewel is showing...wheeew...this was something to read...I have one, written in the 60's when I was a student at Berkeley... You know I love reading your thoughts...like, "The little left hope finds shelter inside a make shift cardboard carton I’ve put my weary heart in."....Hugs! |
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Rosemary J. Gwaltney Senior Member
since 1999-08-26
Posts 997northern mountains, Idaho |
lucky - I was just trying to figure out how to respond to such a kaleidoscope of life all jangled together, with discordant memories loud enough to split the eardrums of my mind, when I read Martie's comment, and burst out laughing! Hey, Martie, yep - his jaded jewel is showing - but, then, he IS my jaded jewel, and sweet as a 5th Avenue candy bar! (His favorite.) But seriously, my dear husband, what a trip this life has been, indeed! I think that covers it!!!!! (And the beat goes on.... though, thankfully, not THOSE beats!!....) The spiritual wind that holds survivors aloft, plants the seeds from which bloom new hope ... R.J.G. |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Lucky~ Whew ! I feasted on every word - mesmerized. 'I run the lip of the hill with silhouette.' 'What a wreck. I busy myself trying to catch a hopeless dream. Numb thoughts make helpless efforts to spring into shape. The little left hope finds shelter inside a make shift cardboard carton I’ve put my weary heart in. I peer out watching_, nervously_, afraid to even venture beyond the box. I can’t understand how I came to be so distraught with thought and at the same time be shrouded with searing tears.' What a trip, man ! What a trip. ' My strength to hope is being swallowed up by emotional laments and my mind has just tripped over another piece of bewilderment. My God, I have too many feelings. You are one deep well ! And this is a full bucket you lifted. I greatly enjoyed this, Lucky. Brilliant writing, my friend. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ [email protected] |
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Rosemary J. Gwaltney Senior Member
since 1999-08-26
Posts 997northern mountains, Idaho |
Marge - that comment is one of the most brilliant I have ever read - you said it better than the best! He IS "one DEEP well, and this IS one full bucket he lifted"! Your responses are so often poetry in themselves. lucky - I know you think so too. |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
lucky, on you would say it's difficult to write these days and then create an epic! LOL! It's an excellent piece of writing, Dale, and the presentation is striking. I am never shy about claiming to edit. Unfortunately, in this case I can't take credit for whatever you are referring to..maybe next time  |
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Wilfred Yeats Member Elite
since 2000-08-04
Posts 2704Wilmington, Delaware |
A tour de force of no small proportions - Ezra Pound at his most lucid could not touch this - I am seriously impressed! |
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