tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62460089825304826892012-01-10T16:59:15.901-07:00Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3711100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-14975976905664746162011-10-22T05:26:00.000-07:002011-10-22T05:26:43.665-07:00<i><b>Is Man Done In?<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Killin' his brother over one lousy dollar<br />Rippin' down interstates, swimmin' through squalor<br />Beggin' God for a new car, or a full pardon<br />Kickin' and clawin' his way back to the garden<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Fightin' the same war down decades' long corridor<br />Thinks he's a toreador, hooray for the picador<br />Roses become trash rainin' out of the stands<br />Desperate for high ground in these filth-laden lands<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Skulls' grins on bankers boardin' up broken glass<br />Keep hoppin' freighters and keep off the grass<br />If T.R. was here he'd smile and roll up his sleeves<br />Rubber girl's cryin' as she rakes up dead leaves<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />The Angels are weepin', wings all a-tatter<br />The blind man on Main Street cries "What is the matter"<br />While the usual golf carts rattle all down the green<br />The show must go on though the host's not been seen<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Hoisted on meat hooks, roasted in green flame<br />A man breaks down his neighbor, thinks it's all just a game<br />But it never was about good or evil or original sin<br />'Til you learn to be kind you must go round again<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Missiles rain down with a sulfurous stench<br />America's favorite charioteer is down in a ditch<br />They smashed out the headlights and stole all the chrome<br />Sixteen souls in the scupper are startin' to moan<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Frankenstein's creature could be your best friend<br />The Parent-Teacher Organization is hot to molest him<br />Accusations come cheap and now loyalty's for hire<br />Salvation Army's contracted a mercenary choir<br />Is man done in?<br /><br />Is man done in?<br />Is man done in?<br />Waitin' around for the new Babel to fall down<br />And a king to rise up and claim his burnished crown<br />Dogs rippin' the meat from old gutter bones<br />Hedgin' our bets on horror and precious stones<br />Is man done in?<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Crocodile Tears<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />It is shaped, sir,<br />Like itself<br />And it is as broad as<br />It hath breadth<br />It is just so high<br />As it is<br />And it moves with<br />Its own organs<br /><br />It lives by that which<br />Nourisheth it<br />And the elements once<br />Out of it,<br />It transmigrates<br /><br />What color is it of?<br />Of its own color too<br /><br />'Tis a strange serpent<br />'Tis so<br />And the tears of it<br />Are wet<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>I Wish I Was a Pirate<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I wish I was a pirate, me son<br />Far away at sea<br />Sinking Spanish galleys<br />'Fore they could sink me<br /><br />An' I would ne'er brush me teeth<br />Nor ne'er take a bath<br />Strikin' terror into sailors' hearts, me son<br />Is always good for a pirate laugh<br /><br />Under me black pirate flag, me son<br />I'd pose out on the deck<br />In purple coat an' matchin' eye-patch<br />I'd demand the world's respect<br /><br />'Til one day sure as the sun is yeller<br />I'd go down wi' me ship, me son<br />I'd meet that Davy Jones feller<br />An' we'd share a sip o' rum<br /><br />I wish I was a pirate, me son<br />Far away at sea<br />Sinking Spanish galleys<br />'Fore they could sink me<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Moon<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Rays cut across tidal, dusty seas<br />Circular pools rimed in murky stains<br />This eternal silence, how lonely made<br />Among gray craters and silvered plains<br /><br />Amidst the pits and knobby hillocks<br />Under the zodiac's unremitting trains<br />Covered over in pristine velvety night<br />Among gray craters and silvered plains<br /><br />This supple desolation's no treachery known<br />Unblemished by men's intemperate brains<br />Dyed by no blood, nor propped up mortal throne<br />Among gray craters and silvered plains<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Lurking Beast<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />'Gainst the rattle of the buggy's wheels<br />And dull retort of hooves clopping in bracing air,<br />The steamy snorts from flaring nostrils of my mare,<br />And the new moon freshly set in a darkling, bruiséd sky<br />Came I.<br /><br />Down a serpentine, wending, winding, diving trail<br />Through pressing woods, whose gaping meadows croak open<br />Under frosty, star-littered night,<br />Rose whiffs of bracken and nettles crushed under-wheel.<br />The mind's sensitive underside we seldom broach;<br />Therein I sensed the lurking beast's approach.<br /><br />Weird terror slowly chilled mine own senses, now alerted,<br />Ebon blackness blotting phalangic bones of tree and bush,<br />Drifting, shredded, shapeless shapes stalked my much-vexed vision<br />Like wind-ravaged cloud, or stirring spectre secretly marking my course.<br />What is that, there! What agitation betwixt yon oaks?<br />As light glances from blade's edge or flickering dew,<br />Stars illume and flash from distant wide-set globular orbs!<br />Is it the scraping rustle of twigs askance or<br />Talons like horns a-swing through grassy tassels tossing?<br />I click-clicked up my steed to a light trot, set my eyes fixed<br />To a singular point dead-ahead, and strove<br />To refrain from contemplation of my undefended back-<br /><br />Or of revolutionary deserters who once haunted these woods,<br />They who faithlessly their brothers at Valley Forge abandoned,<br />Bloody feet rag-wrapt, creeping through bitter snow and ice.<br />They did not all find their way back home.<br /><br />The light is gloaming yellow up ahead.<br />Welcome acrid smoke wafts from the cottage chimney.<br />The lurking beast retreats, into the deeps of memory submerges,<br />Mine own fidelity justly fortified.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Too Close in Time<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I bought you a bracelet to<br />Brighten your wrist<br />I heard not one word that<br />Passed through your lips<br />In some parallel universe your<br />Footsteps follow mine<br />But we're too many worlds distant and<br />Too close in time<br /><br />Your voice just sounds like<br />Some cruel kind of joke<br />But seeing you fills up my eyes with<br />Burning cities and smoke<br />Any word I might utter could only<br />Lead us to crime<br />We're too many worlds apart, dear, and<br />Too close in time<br /><br />High-wire performers risk their<br />Lives for the circus<br />I left no message with God's<br />Answering service<br />His hands are too busy<br />Untangling human deception<br />And this kind of trouble warrants no<br />Immaculate conception<br /><br />I don't have to be Bogey to know<br />What has to happen<br />If you're playing Patti Boyd then<br />I'm a miscast Clapton<br />And though it stretches our souls thin as<br />Nanotube lines<br />We're riding separate worlds pushed<br />Too close in time<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Call Call Me<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2007, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Though the ages weigh you down<br />And you find you can't get around<br />Nightmares pursue you and you can't break free<br />You can always call on me<br />Call call me<br /><br />Everything's broke down you learned by heart<br />No street boys shootin' marbles or building a go-kart<br />Your old preacher's pushin' papers on 12th Street and Vine<br />Is there still time for you to change your mind?<br />Call call me<br /><br />Call call me<br />Call call me<br />Even though this world is broken<br />Never mind the words unspoken<br />Call call me<br /><br />Your whole life's shattered past recovery<br />Your blinders are slippin', it's a nasty discovery<br />Those true things they taught you have turned into lies<br />There's no money to be made bringin' back the blue skies<br />Call call me<br /><br />Someone higher up shoulda prevented the train wreck<br />But when your paycheck's at risk you don't stick out your neck<br />I got nothin' to give you but some sympathy<br />If you can't find it elsewhere you can always call me<br />Call call me<br /><br />Call call me<br />Call call me<br />Even though this world is broken<br />Never mind the words unspoken<br />Call call me<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-1497597690566474616?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-28595616298661949512011-10-22T05:01:00.000-07:002011-10-22T05:01:44.575-07:00<i><b>Bagpipes and Lightning Strikes<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes in a bloody shrouded sun<br />Running down the highway now my shift work is done<br />Some warmonger's raving about how Democrats interfere<br />Memories of Republican impeachment proceedings fade and disappear<br />I'd donate a fortune to see my Party sitting pretty<br />But I've been through every pocket and I haven't got a penny<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes, I shred my old receipts<br />Why should I care about your schemes and deceits<br />Justice gonna get you where the asphalt meets<br />The descending horizon waiting up beyond the ridge<br />Unless your reckless driving acquaints you with a telephone pole<br />Or the happy fishes swimming under the state line bridge<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes, make a wish and hold your breath<br />Look too close into their faces, scare a grown man half to death<br />Too much conversation, none of it reflects the meaning of the words<br />Tarantula trundles through the brush pursuing hummingbirds<br />I could tell your fortune, don't need to see your palm<br />It don't matter who you voted for or what side you think you're on<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes, you backpack across Peru<br />All my email messages bounce and I can't get in touch with you<br />From way up in the highlands now that nasty business is through<br />Are there anacondas in Peru or narco-lefty-pirates in the hills<br />That secret wisdom you're affecting, someone's gonna come collecting<br />Put off your debts too long, one day you pay some hefty bills<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes echo in the trees<br />Knocked me from a pinnacle and down onto my knees<br />Some people sneeze at the sunrise, but I don't hold with that<br />Too much air conditioning makes you allergic to a cat<br />Army brats afraid of friendship, partings bring too much pain<br />If you fall in love with me then how much am I to blame<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes, terror in the fields<br />I used to be afraid of falling before we got nuclear shields<br />Allah wants your death, virgins overflow on Heaven's shelves<br />If you really want to be radical then don't blow up yourselves<br />Health care and welfare and say farewell to your pension plan<br />Market forces dictate we wring out every drop of oil we can<br /><br />Bagpipes and lightning strikes, I'm up here tending sheep<br />You think it seems a wasted life, but you're the one asleep<br />I watched the boats on Biscayne Bay as they glide and tack<br />Their lights were gently swaying, their skippers signed a contract<br />I could never read the fine print through the seeping blood<br />Good luck with what you call insurance next time you face the flood<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>I Wish We Could Wake Up<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />I wish we could wake up<br />And find it was all just bad dreams<br />I didn't plan any of this<br />I've got no idea what it means<br />I wish we could wake up<br />In the bed of faith and trust<br />And God could look down on us and smile<br />And put no one on trial<br /><br />If you consider corporate thieving and killing<br />And fashionable housewives cheating, and every bad-faith deal<br />People like caged rats envying the Joneses racing about in<br />This year's trendy stainless steel wheel<br />It wasn't Heaven ordered the gassing of six million<br />They were man-made swastika flags unfurled<br />No American president spitefully torched the oil fields<br />And gave the finger to the free world<br />We're all of us at risk, babe<br />No tellin' who'll come out the other side<br />Stop raving about convenient scapegoats<br />And reconsider your pride<br /><br />I wish this world was different<br />And no evil threatened my child<br />But everybody's fighting for a piece of pie<br />Talking trash and running wild<br />I wish we could wake up<br />And remember what we used to believe<br />Don't know if I can climb out of this tough luck<br />Too much junk to haul off in the dump truck<br /><br />I don't carry a torch for Abu Ghraib<br />Collective retribution for greed unfailingly descends<br />Do nothing you'd be ashamed to tell your mother<br />Don't invoke unpredictable Acts of God or illegal aliens<br />Things fall apart if the manufactures have done their part<br />Feed the fads and pass the youth your hat<br />Steal their futures and invest in munitions<br />Let 'em fret when their savings fall flat<br />We're all of us at risk, babe<br />No tellin' who'll come out the other side<br />Stop raving about convenient scapegoats<br />And reconsider your pride<br /><br />I think I can hear the angels singing<br />Don't wake me up this time if I'm dreaming<br />I can't hold on forever to darkness<br />Been on the losing end of too much double-dealing<br />I wish we could all wake up<br />With those battles still unwaged<br />I'd give so much if the high towers never fell<br />And we never boarded a dive bomber to Hell<br /><br />We're all on this life raft together<br />So stop selling your countrymen shiny new crap<br />You'll survive without bundling your cell phone and TV<br />You're building blind maze trails inside a trap<br />Don't blame God for human selfishness<br />Stop filling up my mail with spam<br />If we can't all get together<br />Darkness gonna envelope this land, sir<br />Darkness gonna envelope this land<br />We're all of us at risk, babe<br />No tellin' who'll come out the other side<br />Stop raving about convenient scapegoats<br />And reconsider your pride<br /><br />I wish I could save you<br />From all the evils in this place<br />Or you could save me<br />From this shame and disgrace<br />In this old town full of broken down dreams<br />Every street's littered with pain and regret<br />Everything's left shattered wherever it fell<br />We boarded a dive bomber to Hell<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Jesus on a Bad Day<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />I got dirt under my nails<br />I got dirt on my pants<br />People eye me sideways like I just stepped down from<br />A shipload of ignorant immigrants<br />Forces of insecurity<br />Sewing the seeds of future war<br />Gaza jihadis don't know the faces or names<br />Of the Persian Mullahs they're dying for<br /><br />Roulette wheel's spinning<br />World's riding on red<br />An Irish girl's laughter's bouncing<br />Round inside my head<br />Don't ask me to remember a<br />Single thing she said<br />Or you'll be waiting round here 'til<br />One of us falls down dead<br /><br />Economic profiteers rob the poor and pile up riches<br />While the feds on leashes pony up tax breaks<br />For those soulless phony sons-a-bitches<br />And sneer at the local response to earthquakes<br />Hurricanes tidal waves and meteor bombardment<br />The doctor's wife's grown grim still working nine to five<br />Flips through the checkbook in uncomprehending bewilderment<br />They cut off your wrong limb, you're lucky to get out alive<br /><br />Don't tell me who's your boss<br />I got no cause to know<br />The higher up you look<br />The more corrupt they grow<br />Justified behind a screen of<br />"Just business" and "the great American way"<br />When I was a kid in America they used to<br />Do it some other kind of way<br /><br />Don't want to learn anything about you<br />Where you've been or what you've seen<br />It all emerges in the mix<br />The scars and beauty never dreamed<br />No matter where you matriculated<br />That's no way to impress me<br />I'll catch your quality of consciousness<br />In a net of kindness and sympathy<br /><br />Going through old dusty boxes<br />I misplaced my sense of humor again<br />I've had to move on so many times<br />Ahead of the Sheriff of Nottingham<br />You'd think they'd have bigger fish to fry<br />I guess that's just my tax dollars at work<br />Paying the law to chase me down<br />A star for every wish and a job for every jerk<br /><br />I can hear the diesel drivers and the freight whistle wail<br />Another restless early morning with zombies pawing at the door<br />Everyone's gone crazy or else is locked in jail<br />I feel like Vincent Price facing twenty-four hours more<br />I'm remembering an Irish girl<br />Trying to reconstruct my damaged thoughts<br />The long red hair that she could whirl<br />Green eyes deep as Scotish lochs<br /><br />I'm soaked in caffeine and I'm<br />Staring down the road<br />I'm growing mean and tired of doing<br />Every stupid thing I'm told<br />Playing dumb too long among somnambulists<br />Can make a man explode<br />Like Jesus on a bad day when the traffic cops<br />Got his favorite mule towed<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Lookin' For Manue Garue<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Went down to the pizza parlor<br />I saw no one there so I had to holler:<br />"Anybody seen Manue Garue?"<br /><br />Standing alone in an elevator<br />I decided I oughta come back later<br />After I found Manue Garue<br /><br />Thought I saw him take off for the friendly skies<br />But you can't always trust your eyes<br />'Specially when searchin' for Manue Garue<br /><br />Exotic visions can't compete with the Zen<br />Of dirty dishes - or so I was told<br />By Manue Garue<br /><br />Cautiously sipping the Moon's sweet juice<br />Knocked me right off my caboose<br />This is the preferred libation of Manue Garue?<br /><br />Archetypes dissolving. . . .starving felines<br />Countdown to caffeine ignition<br />I'd like to share a cup with Manue Garue<br /><br />Anybody here can tell me straight<br />How much longer I gotta wait<br />'Til I find Manue Garue?<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Melt My Mind<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Think I'll melt down my mind<br />'Til I find the Devil inside<br />I'm still runnin' so far behind, watchin'<br />Broken visions unwind in<br />Shrapnel and foreign design<br />I been cuttin' cattle, I been lost in space<br />I been lookin' out for some<br />Other kinda place<br /><br />Think I'll melt down my mind<br />Seas like dark wine, sun doused<br />In slick oil and rolling brine<br />Emotions I can't quite define<br />I'm inclined to set an ambush or just resign<br />I been scentin' fugitives and cataloging clues<br />I been so sick down in them<br />Deep sea diver blues<br /><br />What you gonna do when<br />Your well runs dry?<br />If you want me to<br />I'll be standing at your side<br />Darling if you really care<br />And I think you do<br />Then put your arms around me and<br />Paint these black skies blue<br /><br />Think I'll melt down my mind<br />'Til I shine<br />In golden light sublime<br />Guess I was hopin' to find something that got<br />Left behind or else repossessed and consigned<br />I been bendin' rules, but I kept every vow<br />You win or you lose<br />But you never know how<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Temptation of St. Anthony<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Fish step, bent fin - turquoise surfaced ocean<br />Once proud street crowd sways backwards in slow motion<br />Young toughs play rough, try to get the beat on<br />Hive pulse in the dream stream - privacy is long gone<br />She said, he said - yank a wad of wires<br />Cyborg in the grocery store tries to buy desires<br />Uncle Sam's a rocket man shot out of a cannon<br />I'm watchin', I'm plannin', growin' hard of understandin'<br /><br />Nerves jump, brain stump - focus your awareness<br />Streaming urban warfare, don't care - dare me to repress this<br />Trade away your competence for a little empathy<br />Conspiracy of sympathy, more lost opportunity<br />Thresholds raised behind dark shades, too much truth's too hurtful<br />Life among the zombies who mistake Benny for Churchill<br />New mushroom with auto-zoom, synthesize an edgy groove<br />While deep inside the sacred Louvre Mona's got a lot to prove<br /><br />Sing a song of intense suspense, borderline depravity<br />Concavity, extravagancy - stuck on John Kennedy<br />The mystery dead, the young bride's bed - trying to discover<br />Recover, uncover - Marilyn and her lover<br />Flaming rooms and false baboons, electric eels in the lakes<br />Flaws, mistakes, glass breaks - grilling suspects and sirloin steaks<br />Man with a hack saw chopping through the cat's claw<br />Cole slaw, slow crawl - cite a source that trumps the law<br /><br />Fish hips and bird lips, candy Cain and Abel<br />Sable coat, the dead vote - Vaseline tree limb rocking cradle<br />Something wrong in Hong Kong - riding on a dynamo<br />Busted scrawling graffiti on the hallowed walls of Jericho<br />Tyranny, who is free - prevailing mass opinion<br />Intention of restriction, diminishing dissention<br />Ecstasy, hex key - did you ever truly see<br />Beauty mingles nightmare, temptation of St. Anthony<br /><br />Under moon and over hill, mow down friends through sheer will<br />I can still feel the chill of when we gave up what was real<br />Controversy comes for free, a new one every minute<br />You spin it, pretend it - please don't even mention it<br />Disorders, reporters - who decides and who anoints<br />The flunkies and the junkies trace out all the talking points<br />Don't wait too long, the past is gone, the present's almost finished<br />Diminished, extinguished - and Popeye needs his spinach<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Tryin' to Do the Right Thing<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Substitute the herd mentality for<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Life is sweet but much too short for<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Make your fortune while you can instead of<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />God willing, one day soon we'll all be rid of<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br /><br />God musta thrown out Iraq and old Afghanistan<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Every action bears its consequence whatever you plan<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Killers crossin' borders into this forsaken land<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />I was only followin' orders - you gotta understand<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br /><br />Weigh the wages of good and sin<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Then tell me whether every man's your friend<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />You'll never make it until you discover<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />You see plenty hungry people and none of them your brother<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br /><br />No one escapes it - feast or famine<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />The almighty Dollar's the modern Mammon<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />You want to wed the West and East?<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Rihani's who we need the least<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br /><br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br />Tryin' to do the right thing<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Black Train<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2006, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />There's a black train comin'<br />Gonna take me outta here<br />There's a black train comin', people<br />Comin' to roll me outta here<br />Well you might think you understand, but<br />Destiny's never clear<br /><br />Phat bass comin' through<br />But the conductor's lookin' thin<br />I hear a phat bass line comin' through, but the<br />Conductor, he looks mighty thin<br />Somebody's rappin' at my door, but I<br />Sure ain't gonna let him in<br /><br />Some of these dark blues<br />Get wrapped right around your head<br />Some of these deep dark blues, babe<br />They get wrapped tight right around your head<br />Don't know when you wake up tomorrow<br />If you're breathin' or if you're dead<br /><br />Twin poles revolving in the night<br />Life arcing in between them<br />Twin poles spinning in the night<br />Life's sparking just like love between them<br />Takes real effort to make this garden a cage<br />Think I've had enough of your frightened rage<br /><br />Aurora borealis lights<br />Dripping down behind my eyes<br />I can see them green and purple pools that fuse<br />And swirl behind my eyes<br />Star shells dazzle and burst up the night<br />While Jimi's guitar wails and cries<br /><br />There's a black train comin' here for me<br />Let me tell you true<br />Said there's a black train headin' this way for me<br />Gonna tell you true<br />Someday it's gonna take me away, but<br />Tonight it's stoppin' just for you<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2859561629866194951?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-59330028665975992582011-10-21T20:18:00.000-07:002011-10-21T20:18:11.206-07:00<i><b>Terrible Day<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Where were you on that terrible day (terrible day)<br />Where were you on that terrible day?<br />Where were you on that terrible day (terrible day)<br />When the fireball expanded through the sky?<br /><br />How did you feel on that summer morning?<br />Did the world slip away suddenly without any warning?<br />How did you feel on that summer morning<br />When you knew that he must die?<br /><br />What did you see on New Years Day?<br />Could you see at all with so many tears in the way?<br />A price much higher than you ever thought to pay.<br />What did you see on New Years Day?<br /><br />How did you feel while the towers were falling?<br />You could hear their voices like lost birds calling.<br />How did you feel while the towers were falling?<br />Empty eyes still look expectantly toward you.<br /><br />There are times for battle and times for forgiveness.<br />Time's so turbulent when your table's full of unfinished business.<br /><br />Where were you on that terrible day (terrible day)<br />Where were you on that terrible day?<br />Did you let emotion get in the way watching<br />When they nailed Him up against the sky?<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Sower's Parable<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2005, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />They're shooting geese and mallards<br />From cold dark winter skies<br />The sheep hide from their shepherds<br />The homebound sprinter sighs<br />And a wounded wildcat cries<br />He's desperate in the night<br />Connect the dots on leopards<br />As they vanish from sight<br /><br />Rapping every piece of wood<br />Constantly employs you<br />You said if you only could<br />Before these bores destroy you<br />You'd shoot the moon; although you lost<br />Your nerve, still you found<br />Trusting friends; but sometimes good<br />Seed falls on stony ground<br /><br />People out to make a buck<br />Some grow rich, some despair<br />Call it skill or call it luck<br />Die with style and flair<br />Passionate flames in your hair<br />No detail out of place<br />Slouch down in a pickup truck<br />You pay the price of taste<br /><br />While time gnaws on tempered steel<br />And distant stars burn down<br />Do bonds and stocks still seem real<br />Money makes this world whirl round<br />Voices grate without a sound<br />Until the last retreat<br />Compete with selfish zeal<br />Relish in your defeat<br /><br />They're shooting geese and mallards<br />From cold dark winter skies<br />The sheep hide from their shepherds<br />The homebound sprinter sighs<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Barstow Bank Robbery<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I am just a highway man<br />No one knows my name<br />I fell to desperation<br />And buried my light in shame, boys<br />Buried my light in shame<br /><br />One night in Amarillo<br />That grand old Lone Star State<br />I sat down to poker<br />And get some business straight, boys<br />Get my business straight<br /><br />We saddled up our ponies<br />To California we did ride<br />Underneath the starry skies<br />Where the plains roll wide, boys<br />Riding for the other side<br /><br />I fixed my sights on the Barstow bank<br />But my brother he did say:<br />"You carry out this job, boy,<br />You're gonna rue the day," he said<br />Then he turned and walked away<br /><br />"Hand over all your money, sir<br />Don't think to make delay<br />For we are desperados<br />So you'd best hurry and obey<br />Better hurry and obey."<br /><br />The cashier, he was true and brave<br />But not so very smart<br />One of the Texans panicked, and he<br />Shot him in the heart, boys<br />He shot him right through the heart<br /><br />Away we scattered into the desert<br />The law hot upon our trail<br />I soon was overtaken<br />And hauled back here to jail, boys<br />They brought me to the jail<br /><br />Now here in heavy chains I lay<br />As the years slowly fade away<br />And somewhere damned Texas outlaws<br />Remember that lonesome day, boys<br />But not one word do they say<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Iron Rod<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Underneath the spinning rainbows of the promise of leniency<br />Soaked through in storms of swirling light and sound<br />You know we struck some blows for simple decency<br />While the dreadful wolves of dogma circled us all around<br />All around<br />While the dreadful wolves circled 'round<br /><br />Deep within the forests of fairytale despair<br />I pulled your heads back out of mulberry pie ovens<br />Revealing caverns behind your merry eyes as you brushed at your coifed barbed wire hair<br />Then ran back to your prisons to brew new potions in your covens<br />In your covens<br />Like misfit witches brewing love potions in your ovens<br /><br />Earthquakes bounced around the continent, my friends falling to murderers and crooks<br />Bottles rolling 'round the floorboards, now curses volley down like fire and hail<br />While I was out crusading somebody tore out the endings from all my favorite books<br />Seems like any minute a thief with an iron rod's gonna press aside the veil<br />While you wail<br />His iron rod's gonna press aside the veil<br /><br />Barnacle on a boulder rides out the pounding waves<br />Army of cheerful soldiers marches dutifully to its graves<br />How many strayed sheep saved, how many must remain lost<br />Who mastered and who slaved and which one's gonna pay the cost<br /><br />Excuse me gentlemen, there's a long train comin' and I gotta catch it<br />These broke down porches hang from derelict palaces with such indignity<br />Good night ladies, you get an itch for roving and you gotta scratch it<br />But I'm sure to say a prayer for you if you'll do the same for me<br />I guarantee it<br />You do unto others and I guess we'll wait and see<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Syringes With Wings<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Flying needles<br />Blood sucking mosquitoes<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />I doubt there's a more earnest fellow<br />Than Elvis Costello<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br />Wisdom's discreet<br />Tiptoes on clay feet to the grave<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />If I could hold on to the next passing wave<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br />Nobody to save us<br />Or cast out a net<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />Broken hearts and crockery<br />Not even paid for yet<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br />Flapping wings<br />Flying things<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />Leathery creatures with<br />Talk show host features<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br />Banisters of<br />Broken glass<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />The blaring dissonance of<br />Off-key brass<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br />Kiss me one time for good luck<br />Or death<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br />You can close your eyes and<br />Even hold your breath<br />Step down the steps into Hell<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Out in the Wind<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Underneath the gnarled trees I wait out in the wind<br />The gales slash between the sails<br />And the carrion fowl descend<br /><br />In the parking lots of betrayal I wait out in the wind<br />While the wolves in the timber wail<br />The coin you've stolen you must now spend<br /><br />You discarded fidelity for temptation's facile plans<br />Now soon your tears must fall down in flood<br />You scrub away at your remorseful hands<br />But you can't wash away so much blood<br /><br />Rocked in unseen arms so strong I wait out in the wind<br />Can't believe Judgment Day's postponed so long<br />You've got so little to protect and less to defend<br /><br />Little boy's under the bar, he's lookin' for lost treasure<br />Little girl's on the high stage reciting from Measure for Measure<br /><br />Heavy under a lonesome pregnant desert night I wait out in the wind<br />Do you ever wish for blindness to blot out your sight<br />Don't you miss your true best friend<br />Don't you long to drink from the sacred cup<br />And to lay down the too bloodied sword<br />Is the life you once coveted<br />Become the life that you've abhorred<br /><br />Queen Isabella fell out of her party dress<br />King Ferdinand sweated in solitary duress<br />The Prince rode forth on his ferocious steed<br />So you took it upon yourself to commit the dirty deed<br /><br />Do you ever ask yourself what have I done?<br />Do you ever ask yourself my God, what have I done?<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Pound of Flesh<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Been hangin' 'round the fisherman docks watchin' the golden sunsets unravel<br />You can lose your leg to Moby Dick but expand your mind through travel<br />Maybe le bête noir is finally shriveling up inside my chest and viciously dying<br />You can beat a man back from his sweet reward but it won't keep him from trying<br /><br />Remember when we used to set the sea and the sky to war<br />We could summon thunder and lightning and tempests galore<br />Those were the days you'll recall when we raised the dead up from their graves<br />Before you stole all my expensive necromancer scrolls and broke all my best staves<br /><br />I been thinkin' 'bout the ones who went down in the burgundy flood<br />Their faded faith in a better world drained their veins of blood<br />Some fell to derision or landed in prison or live free in abject misery<br />So everyday I try to thank my Lord for the blessings bestowed upon me<br /><br />I hope this doesn't turn into another grotesque story about a pound of flesh<br />Who needs more evidence that this wicked world rewards self-interest best<br />All of these strangers trapped by the circumstances of idiotic lives<br />Each one calculating escape, gazing out from suspicious salamander eyes<br /><br />Evil flashes down the wire, war reports and disparaging retorts and hope buckling in compression<br />A forlorn woman flees flaming devils but can't hire a sanctified priest to hear her memorized confession<br />Politicians for sale, liberty assailed in auction to the highest bidder<br />Maybe you took a wrong turn somewhere but now it's too late to reconsider<br /><br />Another year behind us, more babies thrown to Baal's ravenous appetite<br />Another beer raised in defiance, more bribes to lubricate the steely night<br />The blind Mexican calls out, he sells funeral flowers made out of tin<br />And if I don't make it to dawn I hope the rebels redistribute my expensive wife to him<br /><br />Now the sky begins to shatter and the glassy rain pierces the pier<br />Here comes the captain with his albacore as the starving hordes appear<br />They rip him bit from bloody bit for lunch and throw the fish into the sea<br />And it might seem significant to you but it's just another captain crunched to me<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>At the Almanac House<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />She sees the truth, how it moves too fast<br />With no time to talk, now it's gone at last<br />When everything disintegrates that's when you start to curse<br />Your torture chamber humor was hideous but tranquility cuts you worse<br /><br />She walks barefoot across the grassy hill<br />Knowing they may go for glory, but they're gone still<br />The crew erupts in a desperate riot of singing, drinking<br />But still the squall comes on and their hearts are sinking<br /><br />Get up to leave and clear your credit card debt<br />But there's little to receive and the movie isn't even over yet<br />At the Almanac House we knew tragedy as just a fact of life<br />She was somebody's true friend but never his true wife<br /><br />She inhabits a glass world ruled by rueful animals<br />Neither prejudicial devotees nor effusive infidels<br />Doubting all earthly phenomena, suspecting some heavenly things<br />Conjuring the shade of Alexander the Great on scaly wings<br /><br />We might have sneaked right through while the enemy was asleep<br />But you were a hungry lion gorging yourself on helpless sheep<br />What manner of man calls for a doctor as a cyclone descends?<br />Another unlit lamp exalting expediency over his own true friends<br /><br />She pours the waters from a spectral and sacred urn<br />But the fires rage on, and on they must burn<br />The pattern can't persist, it must reach an end<br />We may meet yet in the springtime when the breaks will mend<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Casey Jones<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Gather round you railroaders if you want to hear<br />A famous story 'bout an engineer<br />Casey Jones was this old-timer's name<br />He ran a heavy load pullin' an icy chain<br />Lord, Lord, pullin' an icy chain<br />He ran a heavy load pullin' an icy chain<br /><br />Casey got up at half past four<br />He kissed his wife at the bedroom door<br />Police stopped him at Main and Vine<br />He said: "Let me go 'fore the sun starts to shine."<br />Lord, Lord, 'fore the sun starts to shine.<br />He said: "Let me go 'fore the sun starts to shine."<br /><br />Cops kept him 'til the hour grew late<br />Casey arrived 'bout a quarter past eight<br />Jumped in the cab with his orders in his hand<br />Saying: "This here's a trip to the holy land"<br />Lord, Lord, to the holy land<br />Saying: "This here's a trip to the holy land."<br /><br />Casey pulled out of the Memphis yard<br />With a number three daily on his schedule card<br />Passengers all knew by the engine groans<br />That the man at the throttle must be Casey Jones<br />Lord, Lord, it was Casey Jones<br />That the man at the throttle must be Casey Jones<br /><br />Pulled out his watch and looked at the time<br />He said to the fireman: "This engine's way behind<br />We gotta run this train, we're gonna leave the rail,<br />Cos we're four hours late with the Southern mail."<br />Lord, Lord, with the Southern mail<br />"We are four hours late with the Southern mail."<br /><br />Round the curve he saw a passenger train<br />Both headlights blazing through a driving rain<br />He grinned at the fireman, said: "Hope you made your splash.<br />The number one's a-comin' and we're bound to crash."<br />Lord, Lord, we are bound to crash.<br />"The number one's a-comin' and we're bound to crash."<br /><br />Casey was bleeding but he said with a grin<br />There's an ocean or two he still wanted to swim<br />Conductor rubbed his hands and asked which ones<br />An ocean of whiskey and an ocean of rum<br />Lord, Lord, and an ocean of rum<br />An ocean of whiskey and an ocean of rum<br /><br />When the news come down that Casey was dead<br />His wife and children were asleep in the bed<br />"Lie still children, dream sweet and long<br />For this life is over and your daddy's gone."<br />Lord, Lord, and your daddy's gone<br />"For this life is over and your daddy's gone."<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Forlorn Carol<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Forlorn Carol paints her nails, she ignores her crimes<br />History doesn't repeat itself, history only rhymes<br />On a night that pities neither laughter nor misery<br />Anticipating real human happiness in about a century<br /><br />She gazes at the sunset, crimson and golden threads<br />A lifeless baby bird riding on the crest of shattered thunderheads<br />A brutal creature bursts from the woods, a hound with a lion's head<br />But she just watches mournfully, suspecting she's already dead<br /><br />Where art and genius intersect there can be no loneliness<br />Shuffling like an animal toward a witch-doctor's coarse caresses<br />Her passions ran much deeper, he couldn't keep her, now her angel's lost<br />She must see the parallel - there's no delinquent cost<br /><br />Forlorn Carol waits downtown on a dirty street<br />She could turn around and drop the frown but there's no one to meet<br />Forlorn Carol why don't you see that I'm free and I'm lonely too<br />We could get together, it's my view that's what we were born to do<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Haunted Mansion<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />In ten more years the trees will have all been cut down<br />In ten more years the machines and men will be crated and shipped away<br />Odd words echo in your hollow head, you're so distorted and conflicted<br />How shattering it must be to realize all your wounds were self-inflicted<br /><br />Just consider how far we've come and how patient time outwits you<br />While you keep buying halos hoping to stumble across one that fits you<br />Or at least a villainous minion to keep you supplied with jewels and finest clothes<br />While these years burden me no more than balancing a steam engine on my nose<br /><br />I gather you received an urgent message about a bottle of arsenic<br />Didn't I take a carriage to town at midnight to save you from being sick<br />When we met by accident in Puerto Vallarta and you spewed those unfortunate lies<br />Whose chest was it came crashing in? What rage rushed beneath your icy eyes?<br /><br />Too many fires burning underfoot, too many warning shots unheeded<br />Two many carrion fowl in white satin, too many honest men defeated<br />Whatever remained from that mansion is tumbled down in decay<br />The walls demolished for firewood, not one vow left you can betray<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Luther & Ima Jean<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Luther stumbles down a road in dark despair and lunacy<br />Suffering flashing pangs of passion and sacred lucidity<br />But insight lasts about three seconds then flickers and is lost<br />He should apologize before the eagles pluck his eyes out<br />He cannot afford the cost<br /><br />In every story death quenches happiness no matter how two hearts conspire<br />As the opposite of love is greed, so that of death must be desire<br />He gazes upon blood streaming down heavy beams<br />Hoping to melt back in the moonlight<br />And come apart at all the seams<br /><br />Ima Jean grabbed hold of his heart before he heard her voice<br />His veins swelled with life, but situations conquer choice<br />Years later in the theater he could not focus on the show<br />She was sitting with her husband in the darkness<br />Three rows down below<br /><br />Luther requires a miracle, he's desperate for a cure<br />That takes away the horrors that memories insure<br />Someone who helps obscure the grief compounded on disaster<br />Who can slow down these rushing faces and traces of complicity<br />While the whole world goes by faster<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Magdalena<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I'm lazin' at this old sawmill<br />Underneath the sandy crags<br />Got some bad pig meat from Aunt Sadie<br />Dead horse bobs among the snags<br />It's quiet tonight in Rock Port<br />Underneath a toxic moon<br />Light's flashing out on Pea Ridge<br />No sublimity's comin' soon<br /><br />Mercantile sellin' soda pop<br />Smugglers sellin' Chinese<br />Sweet Charlie's sittin' in San Quentin<br />Got his head between his knees<br />Steam engine stalled on unfinished tracks<br />Dilatory progress comin' through<br />You've got no words to suit your need<br />And I'm struck mute just like you<br /><br />Crimson devil's in the details<br />Golden turkey's in the corn<br />I can't tell whether I'm a-dyin' or I'm<br />Getting' ready to get born<br />Border patrolman's on the border<br />He's waist-deep in the flood<br />Give your ticket to the porter<br />Scrape your boots clean of boggy mud<br /><br />Layin' tracks in Rincon<br />Makin' for Magdalena<br />A dainty on the corner's solemnly engaged in<br />Playing her concertina<br />And I'm struggling to not conjure up<br />Any thought too vigilantly made<br />I could charm the lady's heart, but<br />Plucked flowers so fleetly fade<br /><br />I'm standin' by the window<br />My world saturated in harsh light<br />Some people can't tell wrong from left<br />They mix up might with right<br />All these young men feelin' their oats<br />Got no notion of the mischief they're bound to meet<br />Twister tumbles down on Emporia<br />House frames splayed out in the street<br /><br />Some friends you once knew now won't<br />Give you the time of day<br />Remember before they burnt the fields when<br />We were all the way<br />I got a room in the Shaffer Hotel<br />Way up in the pines<br />I'm gonna think about anything but you and watch<br />While the western sky unwinds<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Manor House<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I wandered the decaying halls of your manor house<br />Thought I overheard someone whisper your name<br />I searched out your pantries like an old mouse<br />But my searching's all in vain<br /><br />Could you recognize me if you saw me now?<br />Not sure how long I can carry on like this<br />Who'da thought the deputy'd outdraw me anyhow?<br />The "Brilliancy Melody" saws on delicious<br /><br />I once clung to the side of a broke down lattice<br />And smelled the rotting plaster in my hair<br />Who's been here on this sagging mattress?<br />In piles of broken promises, why should I care?<br /><br />Guess I'm just suffering some kind of attack<br />No Hell-brewed poison ever tasted more bitter<br />Comes the Devil now so eager to bring her back<br />Hope I can find the strength this time to quit her<br /><br />Now I know the precise tones of your bright voice<br />Forgive me if I don't quite recall your name<br />Nor the occasion when I made my fatal choice<br />Births and funerals have become the same<br /><br />Don't care to give you what you're owed this winter<br />Consider it a blessing you should just accept<br />Soon you'll be resold to the highest bidder<br />Marked down for miles and base neglect<br /><br />Run and tell Aunt Sally the gray goose is dead<br />The one she was saving for a feather bed<br />If I thought it would help I'd take a leap from the loft<br />Or lay my head in your lap where the willow shade's soft<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Morning, Noon & Night<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Willie's passing by again<br />Gonna keep my eye fixed on him<br />Praying morning, noon and night<br />Joan of Arc never passed up a good fight<br /><br />Seen kingdoms come and kingdoms go<br />Seen bandits tramping over white snow<br />We played chess, never did nothing mean<br />Black rook took my white queen<br /><br />Now there's time to murder and blood to spill<br />If the law don't get me then I know what will<br />Fifty years spent in prison ain't no hard time<br />But learning to lie is more wicked than crime<br /><br />From this valley I now must be going<br />The sun's risen and the cockerel's crowing<br />All the people rush to the screams and the fire<br />Another family crushed, more burned up desire<br /><br />There is a promise to take me to a high place<br />Where I can wash off my folly and disgrace<br />Praying morning, noon and night<br />Joan of Arc never passed up a good fight<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Standing in a Station<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Standing in a station<br />Waiting for a train to come<br />Don't need a close relation<br />To criticize what I've done<br /><br />Take down the family Bible<br />And blot me from the pages<br />I'd never call it libel<br />We'll just take it in stages<br /><br />I'm going down to New Orleans<br />Find a flophouse with some color<br />I'll drink my rum until I'm numb<br />And the pain grows duller<br /><br />Standing in a station<br />Suitcase at my feet<br />Don't need a revelation<br />My heart pumps concrete<br /><br />Batteries leaking battery acid<br />Dragons heaving gasoline flames<br />The blue hills once seem so placid<br />Only our honored dead retain their names<br /><br />Fair weather friends stab you in the back<br />Then condemn you for the blood you bleed<br />Can we ever get it back on track<br />Sometimes you sew, but sometimes you weed<br /><br />Standing in a station<br />The night has grown so quiet<br />Don't need a new sensation<br />Don't knock it 'til you've tried it<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Autopsy<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The peritoneum is opened<br />Glistens purple, pearlescent<br />Fine mother-of-pearl<br />Moist with its own sweating exudate<br />Centaurs, minotaurs, monsters, masks we must now adore<br />Beasts eluding classification are conjured in the<br />Relentless ecology of leaf and worm<br /><br />Pulpy pastures, rippling gridirons of grain<br /><br />Mournful violins swelling, swelling<br />Mournful violins swelling<br /><br />Tiny black spiders dash across the steel table<br />A small explosion of yellow butterflies hurtling across visceral landscape<br />Cereal grain silos the texture of multiethnic skin<br />Hair and grass<br />The bison are grazing and lazing<br />Rolling under the blazing sun and over<br />The controlled dismemberment of quarks<br /><br />Blindly dependent on invisible magnetism and membrane stability<br />Every day recycling neural constituents, fashioning<br />Simulacra of memories lost<br />In her blue dress with smile like fountain in the palace courtyard she plays,<br />Pockets stuffed with shiny new dimes<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Undone<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />In the jungles of the mind<br />We scratched our axioms<br /><br />Virus unpacks<br />Submicroscopic detonation<br /><br />Tongue twirls<br />Time unfurls<br /><br />Etched in acid<br />Fox among dissolving trees<br /><br />Moon's eyes behind cloud hands<br />Birdman wafts westerly<br /><br />Enveloping arms or calipers<br />The digitstream pulsates<br />Shatters to globs of vibrant color and sound<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Mandala<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Bells in the trees<br />Silent<br />Trees in the air<br /><br />Junctions, convoluted branching<br />Threadlike lines<br />Structure of woman's form or<br />Acoustic guitar<br />Dry wood splitting<br /><br />Watercolors run in<br />Nebulous starscape<br />Afterimage flash<br />Stars become cavities<br />Dusty ribs of gas<br /><br />Terrible opalescent engine<br />Diaphanous, suspended over<br />Pale blonde and golden<br />California sea<br /><br />The mandala shines<br />Lips curl, mirth held back<br />Face pressed out through bright<br />Psychedelic chalk<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Aeschlepius Muted<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2005, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The spritling skies were rumbling<br />As we broached our spiritual intentions<br />Two impish cherubs retracting red velvet shrouds<br />To liberate a yawning sun<br />I dreamed a mechanism for retracting objective reality<br />Into interlaced dimensions<br />And treasure maps with accompanying rolled scrolls<br />And jewels belonging to no one<br /><br />A shivering sailor sick in fever<br />Waited in the hotel lobby in deep decay<br />He spoke briefly to me of deformed monsters<br />Bobbing in bottles of formaldehyde<br />It reminded him of corrupt vessels he'd been compelled<br />To board in Mandalay<br />Indifferent to my incredulity and existentialism, for:<br />"You alone must now decide."<br /><br />His monocled and starched white captain came in<br />All swagger and blue cape<br />Who lectured us a harping lecture<br />Of misconceived Latin American militancy<br />Grenadiers with meat cleavers from whom<br />Hallucinatory bug-men find no escape<br />And how he'd bombarded their costal caves<br />After tricking them with token mercy<br /><br />As the sailor raised a protest<br />Under the bust of musing Aeschlepius, who stayed on<br />The corridors filled with Mexican peasant women<br />Pregnant or else infectious<br />The captain barked orders to desist<br />While scrawling the walls with a purple crayon<br />And I imagined a hag with her broiling pan<br />Determined to perfect us<br /><br />The bright white clouds puffed up like<br />Swelling bullfrog corpses under tension<br />The candles all blew out and all the girls<br />Squealed in terror most joyous<br />And ran through the ranch house<br />Grown huge and fanlike through chaotic addition<br />Steam-spewing dragons flanked us all the way<br />To private treasures that destroy us<br /><br />The white captain won his long-sought commission<br />The sailor got his shot of penicillin<br />Responsibility is the dark side society hides from and perpetually flees<br />We're condemned to our own freedom and these<br />Voracious parasitic personalities<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Exits<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2005, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Lifetimes flash between the ticks of a clock<br />Tired of waitin' 'round for this ol' world to pop<br />Everybody still here's lookin' for some other place to go<br />Woman in a restaurant, drinkin' at the bar<br />She's got stilettos on her heels, she's watchin' for a fast car<br />And a fast stranger who's too eager, one she can easily control<br />So let me walk across the spur-scarred floor<br />I'll tip my hat to you and push through the double-door<br /><br />Poison in the sound waves, killers sniff down every trail<br />Everyone you used to know's got some kinda junk up for sale<br />Destiny in front of me, the posse's closin' in, twistin' up the noose<br />I'm trying to pass the test, I'm trying to walk the line<br />I can smell the cities burning. We're crashing by design<br />Dealing with pathologic liars, it's hard to negotiate a lasting truce<br />So let me walk across the glass-strewn street<br />I may be the last man you'll know who remembers how to be discreet<br /><br />The best of intentions were never good enough<br />You got to know your place 'cause the big boys play so rough<br />Tusslin' in the filthy streets over a lousy dime<br />Desires and dreams burst in fires and screams that make the pain that much worse<br />You know what they say 'bout a man's labors and the original curse<br />I plunge my hands in my pockets, collar turned up against the cons and crime<br />So let me walk across the killing grounds<br />And try to betray no sign I hear the brutal sounds<br /><br />I watched her down along the beach, the sun was ragin' where I sat<br />Her blonde hair was streamin' in the wind, guess you never know what you're looking at<br />Or what kinds of crazy tricks and traps we spring on each other<br />I'm noddin' to a jazz band, the drummer's got his groove on<br />Sometimes everything feels so fine, you just know it's time to move on<br />I can live without your sympathy, but I could use a little cover<br />So let me lay awhile under your gilt bedroom canopy<br />I'll buy you steak and lobster to compensate for my poor company<br /><br />Bands of color, neon lights arc across a decadent land<br />Too much smoke and strippers, curses, whimpers and drink can kill a good man<br />Too many card games, too many false names, too much bump and grind<br />Zealous students sweat a coming tyranny already seething around them unsuspected<br />I'd like to catch the next train, but these modern beatniks are no less infected<br />No place left to explore where I don't already know what I'll find<br />So let me walk across the spur-scarred floor<br />I'll tip my hat to you and push through the double-door<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Prisoner for Life<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2005, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Maxine tried to warn Faye<br />One thing that's true<br />You're gonna rue the day<br />When that monster comes through<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br />Faye said back to Maxine<br />That sure ain't no lie<br />Got two great big humps<br />And one burning eye<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br />Well Maxine met le bête<br />One dark fateful night<br />But soon fascination<br />Stripped off all her fright<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br />Faye said to Maxine<br />I mark well the change<br />You kissed the beast<br />And now you're so strange<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br />Funny how the things you want the most<br />Are the things you need the least<br />You'll raise up your glass in toast<br />When you're face to face with the beast<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br />Maxine said back to Faye<br />You'll know what it's about<br />When the dragon's rising above you<br />And the flames come gushing out<br />Prisoner for life<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Searching for His Shining Face<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2003, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I keep searching for His shining face<br />I keep searching everywhere<br />And I hope He's searching for me too cos<br />I can't find Him anywhere<br />Searching high and searching higher<br />Search in rain and search in fire<br />Searching for His shining face<br />I keep searching for His shining face<br />Over hill and over dale<br />I search for Him down every trail<br />Searching for His shining face<br />Searching for His shining face<br />Looking in each most unlikely place<br />I keep searching for His shining face<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Zeboiim<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2004, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Way down in Zeboiim don't the wind blow cold<br />Way down south in Zeboiim don't the wind blow cold<br />Salty statues rise up from the waters<br />Mobs with pitchforks don't want your daughters<br />Down in Zeboiim<br /><br />Throw your seed in the rocks<br />Throw your seed in the rocks<br />No sweet fruit springs from corrupt wood<br />Long-sleeved robes of striped flannel<br />Strain out gnats and swallow a camel<br /><br />Lookin' for a place serves ribs down in Zeboiim<br />Lookin' for a place serves barbeque ribs and slaw<br />Way down south in Zeboiim<br />Lightning reflected off the waters<br />Mobs with torches don't want your daughters<br />Down in Zeboiim<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-5933002866597599258?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-74241063730236069942011-10-21T12:10:00.000-07:002011-10-21T12:10:13.844-07:00<i><b>Car Wash<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Coolin' my heels on a Mexican tile bench as the golden sun parches<br />Stripes and stars snapping beside some familiar golden arches<br />A one-legged man hurries on crutches past the white steeple<br />Waitin' for my car to come clean with other waitin' people<br /><br />There's a big tire store right across the street<br />It's not the way they roll but the people that you meet<br />Short-haired kids in red tee-shirts with grease on their sleeves<br />What are the accomplishments a man hopes he achieves<br /><br />Cars hurry by, clouds float like ice cream<br />A thin whisker separates what's real from what's dream<br />I was doubting my own senses when I felt the Earth crack<br />They were waxing my car, now there's no going back<br /><br />These sultans and kings, these baronies and empires<br />Are but a handful of dust<br />These tussles for treasure and ugly scrambles for pleasure<br />Are a bust<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Dance of the Mutant, the Stranger, and a Corrupt Angel<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />a huge & muscular mutant shambling by the side of the gray burning highway in california desert. salt cracks his full lips. sinuous alien ripples distort landscapes of brawn dawn. a fallen lump of godflesh in a shirt made out of purple mirrors & claws. chisel-sculpted face, wounds trailing glutinous serous queues. solar flares & rockets descending. missiles. bullets. thru sky's gash descend three corrupt angels w/too long feet & hands attached bulbous joints & piercing blue eyes unusually immense & wide-set. sharp toothy smiles. this must be the politics of cellular sap.<br /><br />sweat dripping on the side of a highway, blood dipping in a buttercup. museum-archaeologists clumsily attempting to re-stitch frankenstein's monster from randomly preserved bits of flesh & hearsay, but a few are conjoined in true resonance & love for their subject. vanishingly few. are there to be boundaries, limits? can we suck oxygen & simultaneously bow before little minds? the beast colossus avariciously nursing wordy oil between strange conceits in mortifying emission.<br /><br />honor-bound to serve precious seed. all faces & names all numbers transforming into musical notes like bells having rung. corrupt angels take up electric guitars & wail like demons in sweet rebellion. here we break the thick waxy river of the past & dilate fragile souls into impossible beginnings. it's this way for the handsome stranger with curlicue hair, gazing suspect new-made world laid out below his feet when one translucent angel w/wild shoulder-length ebon hair whirls softly around him. he marvels his unexpected creation while she scoops it up w/sharp-edged tumblers & injects it into lymph tubes gritty w/cobalt sand & rust. somebody mentions the mutant then someone wonders where it has gone. swallowed by a gila monster. no, he was the monster, the father, the heavy purse. & then arterial trafficking of lymph & spleen as vessels & ducts tear out little mouths & fuse across bus seats & floors down hallways into elevator shafts all moving all merging we share these fluids gushing together sing it all together now, followed by the blood vessels & spidery nerves until neuron buttons find all new dendrites & synapse & we can only dwell on the phony losses of suicides & mass murder. all knives are jazzy serrated. all bones too white & glossy w/self-conscious cartilage.<br /><br />disconnection, then? separation? angels can promote the fight against the power but what is time to an angel? i can feel the teeth w/in my side chewing, chewing. i know about those microscopic shapes plugging receptors signaling opiate-satisfaction. we are drugged out on mundane shopping mall existence. we signal, we signal back, we deceive ourselves w/slick feedback. flickering antique coruscating fibers. the tired theory of performance on the global stage. all theories are tired now. i smell your signal from across the room & worship the dopamine flashing gyration of color & light airy lightning. it must be better to possess this knowledge. give to me the nectar of your juicy receptacle. i lick the honey w/mad religious schizophrenic visionary zeal. i plug into electric passion where there are no boundaries or censorship or vulgar limits. we could all become insane prophets or flashing chameleons bright green w/twitchy pyramidal eyes searching out predators. fluid monkeys chatter & throw seed pods. feed me words now. we must have words.<br /><br />we live on words. the world is words. this best of all possible words world. time is words. night after night the deep sky screaming me in foreign voices & hallucinogenic perfume. spinning back through time the words revolve sickeningly, pieces falling back together in revolting precision & the precious seed flowing back up w/in pollen cases. roaches grown fat on yesterday's poison. corpses fatten, ripen. ripped sutures reassemble. the words roll on & on around my mouth & on my tongue & on.<br /><br />ohhh. . . .breaking breads, baking heads. severed hands & feet & legions of slumbering dead. your face is that of a pony. your hair is alive & it grieves when cut. your eyes flash to their corners & i know you watch me watch you. but time is a wet mattress that suffocates & the lizards slither into dark crevices until the jewels of the word world shatter into disparate, irretrievable litter of forgotten possibilities. the mutant is dead in a foreign tomb. gibber back at the night.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Freak Show<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Went to see the freak show<br />They held it in the mall<br />Some were fat and some were thin<br />Some were short and some were tall<br /><br />Some wore stripes and some wore plain<br />Some were generous and some were vain<br />Some wore diamonds and some wore tin<br />Some had to frown and some had to grin<br /><br />I've been deceived by so much greed<br />If you don't believe in evil you must not be awake<br />Seems pretty quaint at this point<br />To blame it on a snake<br /><br />You with your astrological charts and your head in the sand<br />Preferring cosmic causation to malice that's man-planned<br />Hollywood has a million ways to liquefy your brain<br />A million tools to prevent you seein' anything too plain<br /><br />You keep stuffin' your God-shaped hole with hypocrisy and crime<br />You keep waiting for class to start, but it's graduation time<br />A golden city's shining, better cut your ego down to size<br />Its gates are too narrow for your swollen pride and lies<br /><br />Went to see the freak show<br />Some will elevate you, some make you crawl<br />Ten sharp swords shoved in my back<br />Gotta confess I love 'em all<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Passage<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><blockquote><i>the flowers of the city, though breathlike, get deathlike at times,<br />& there's no use in tryin' to deal w/the dyin', tho' i cannot explain that in lines.<br /><br />- BD<br /></i><br /></blockquote><br />===============================================<br /><br />pass thru a tiny pore<br />eye-searing starlight jolts<br />where memory & reason<br />char to bony ash w/terminal grief<br />the music is scorching, deafening<br />lays waste to uncharted acres of bedlam<br />the choruses undulate among metallic spheres<br />waves of delirium, waves of beauty<br />like the beauty in a silver singin' river<br />cruising at lightspeed on<br />a cool blue light beam, you've<br />ruptured thru a fragile crystalline shell<br /><br />into the land w/o fingerprints<br />in a country beyond petty kingdoms<br />the ruts are filling in<br />entropy reversing<br />sundered, missing bits of pieces<br />in slo-mo implode & auto-assemble<br />all discord overlapping, interfering<br />yields unified fields of harmony<br /><br />it's the last bus pulling out<br />last call, the last trip<br />distant birds flying<br />fluttering climbing<br />a cyclone of black birds<br />ravens & diamond-eyed butterflies<br />rainbow trout gliding, sailing & smiling<br />buzzing honey bees left behind<br />receding din of the voice of the swarm<br />acoustic guitars give way<br />plug in to undisciplined electric swells<br /><br />out of the tragic, out of the comic<br />into the mystic & beyond<br />further<br />gossamer films of revelations lay down on<br />deeper layers of antediluvian answers<br />before pieces of questions can be formulated<br />all things connected, all time<br />all place, space<br />this is not free-jazz<br />or acid rock or fuzz guitar<br />this is not tidal chemistry<br />or ergot intoxication or riot pills<br />who brings on this tribulation?<br />what slow corrosion drains our veins of dedication?<br />this is not heritage<br />that noble massive spreading bushy tree<br />that slop bucket splashing<br />trial-&-error-shaped organics<br />this is not a gently beating heart<br />a commodity in great demand and scant supply<br />not fear & loathing in high places<br />not vonnegut, not yeats, not herman hesse<br />not 9/11, not biological attack<br />not pablo, nor his faithful slave pedro,<br />not leonardo or dali or bosch<br />this is not bowling ball planets distorting spacetime<br />or spacetime fiercely gripping matter<br />or virtual photons & their anti-selves<br />emerging & self-immolating at event horizon<br />w/shimmering embers of hawking radiation<br />this is no mission to mars<br />or panspermia w/its infested pebbles<br />peppering volcano land in a hard rain<br />this is not cosmic inflation<br />not alan guth<br />not arlo guthrie<br />or frankie & albert or diamond joe<br />not jerry or janis or jim or john<br />or stevie ray or george or jimmy<br />or ken or timothy<br />you hear the train whistle blowin' ooh-ee<br />thru the back of your memory<br />w/2 lights on behind; no,<br />you've burst thru the backdoor of the<br />motel of lost companions, trailing<br />a phosphorescent wake of glimmering stardust<br />blazing another momentous trail across<br />eternity: let<br />all men heed this passage<br /><br />i can't follow that trail, i<br />too much love this more turbulent tumble-down realm where we<br />struggle w/fractured bits of questions<br />where perceptions in time are too truncated<br />to be of much use 'cept in a dark ironic vein<br />& biases of heritage & prejudice<br />distort a more lucid vision, & anyway<br />how not stick around to see how things turn out,<br />to recover what was lost? i wonder did you<br />take too much for granted, or else<br />get your signals crossed?<br /><br />where we fomented our on-going rebellion<br />against those powers whose small minds are most constrictive<br />where i told you the 1980s reminded me most of the 1480s<br />& you told me that "things have changed" reminded you of my trials<br />where, on a good day, the dead were bearable<br />especially playing someone else's song<br />where, considering their inexplicable fiscal success,<br />we considered charging half as much<br />& taking the chemistry analyzers on the road<br /><br />on the road<br /><br />where we catalogued the political hypocrisy<br />of rabid republicans & other miscellaneous unindicted criminals of war<br />where thru geometric proof we finally discerned vividly<br />that all songs, future & past,<br />are lesser derivatives of<br />primal dylan forms<br />& thru the scientific method we resolved<br />that all jokes are best taken just a bit too far, for<br />what good's your humanity unless<br />you experiment w/it?<br />where we conspired to escape to alaska<br />or to san francisco<br />where we struggled to crack diana's stony resistance<br />w/contemptible twisted tales of titanic proportions<br />& quests for amputee amphibians<br />& where we tormented jillian w/tumid intestines<br />& where your controls were never quite w/in<br />2sd<br />where you made far-out dilutions to appease<br />the irritable gods of nephelometry<br />you tuned in on agrobacterium radiobacter &<br />the genetic promiscuity of gonorrhoea<br />you turned on to every alternative to conservative bombast & ennui<br />& long ago you dropped out gloriously<br /><br />how we stretched out the membranes of those fathomless nights<br />solving the problems of the world one crisis at a time, drawing<br />arcane conclusions on the wall<br />unearthing ebola virus before it became fashionable<br />tobasco or soy sauce on popcorn<br />you spit out the mexican chocolate when<br />sour milk spilled forth<br />you grimaced at waldenstrom's syrup in your viscometer<br />w/your stopwatch slowly ticking away the hours<br />you w/your tape recorder in your car<br />archiving endless reels of dead air<br />you w/your telescope gazing back<br />into god's face<br /><br />you loved so much<br />your generosity transformed everyone you met<br />your words were light to me when i wandered in shadow<br />faithful companion & kind<br />most of all you loved your children best<br />there is no greater honor<br />i wish you could see how it all turns out<br /><br />then i remember:<br />already you are there<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Taker<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />You can take my shoes<br />You can take my fan<br />You can take my gum<br />And my trash can<br />You can take my radio<br />You can take my phone<br />You can take my steak<br />You can keep the bone<br />You can take my paper<br />You can take my pen<br />You can tear it up,<br />Make me write it down again<br />You can take my table<br />You can take my chairs<br />You can take the floors<br />You can take the stairs<br />You can take my books<br />Take away my PC<br />You can take it all<br />Far away from me<br />You can take my money<br />You can take my wheels<br />You can rev it up<br />Until it squeals<br />You can take my house<br />You can rattle my life<br />Shatter my peace<br />With war and strife<br />You can make the ground rock<br />You can make the air roll<br />But one thing you know you'll never do:<br /><br />You'll never touch my soul<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Tale of Fifteen Honey Bees<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Diamond fragments scattered upon slick streets like<br />Broken promises whispered between urgent sheets<br />Lonely people crouching low behind pompous words<br />Lifting from ruby-stained lips like wayward carrion birds<br />And I'm passing under the full moon among certain eerie trees<br />That overhang the hushed alleyways of uncertain destinies<br /><br />We were eating buzz candy<br />That the fuzz kept handy<br />Swinging in hammocks between<br />The milkwood trees<br />Right before the moon turned sandy<br />And the mayor became a dandy<br />You misremembered what we'd seen<br />And swallowed fifteen honey bees<br /><br />Helen of Troy bouncing off-beat in a beat up black and white<br />Sways with a silver hip flask, she's a drunken soaring kite<br />"Here's to the love 'em and leave 'ems," she blurts at the surly hack<br />Who takes a swig then idly hands it back<br />While suspicious cats go slinking like sinister refugees<br />Among the trash blowing greedily between uncertain destinies<br /><br />The phones were ringing like gold medallions<br />Bright, besmeared with polished dew<br />While wobbling girls slipped off their shoes<br />To race against a bitter curfew<br />Cold scissors waltzed across the lake<br />Which was frozen and blue green<br />We smelled our way between the walls<br />And convulsed in a Spanish influenza dream<br /><br />Mosquitoes buzzing like terrified soldiers are just ribbons in my ears<br />Clutched at by young widows in black deserts to dab at children's tears<br />What's all this dry snow that blows cold dust through dead branches<br />Napoleon in the gutter sputters somethin' 'bout missed chances<br />Then Walt Disney and Sprio Agnew play at chess, immune from current hesitancies<br />While Deliah and I duck under the brazen skies of uncurtained mysteries<br /><br />A pig performed experiments<br />In chemistry from experience<br />And sung of what an ascetic requires<br />To soothe our uncombed nerves<br />We donned our suits for December gents<br />And brushed away suggestive evidence<br />Is karma served through fulfilled desires<br />Or receiving what one most deserves<br /><br />Olive drab fabrics run on to carpet a shuddering globe<br />The hit-and-run escapes as a passing surgeon carves lobe from golden lobe<br />Curved surfaces fill in the corners and coroners inflate my veins<br />Ghosts around the steeples cry over fiery eruptions from passenger trains<br />And dwarves sip cream while excavating ancient abominations and ecstasies<br />As we run down the echoing hallways away from these too certain destinies<br /><br />Between telephones and electronic mail<br />Our voices have been strung<br />Between the clouds and featureless stratosphere<br />Where the blind and bloated caterpillar's stung<br />By famished ants with mouths to feed<br />Back home, the game sums to none<br />There's no way out without a doubt<br />But back whatever way you've come<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>You Don't Ever Know<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Whirl around, pick any direction<br />Then open up your eyes<br />Human beings beat down like dogs<br />But that ain't no surprise<br />You might be an evil soul<br />With no conception where it's at<br />If you already know everything you can't learn much, but<br />Some day you're gonna discover that<br />You don't ever know anybody<br />Half as well as you think you do<br />Just cos you don't wanna believe something<br />Don't mean that it's not true<br /><br />People angry everywhere<br />'Bout things they know nothing about<br />Take a look through any door<br />All those people start to shout<br />"Vengeance is mine," sayeth the Lord<br />Nobody seems to think it's true<br />You vomit your lies and malicious excuses<br />You better hope no retribution's headed for you<br />You don't ever know anybody<br />Half as well as you think you do<br />Just cos you don't wanna believe something<br />Don't mean that it's not true<br /><br />This old world is bruised and battered<br />Every few minutes another species goes extinct<br />Wedges driven into family structure<br />Whole nations driven to the brink<br />But you're not hoping to heal the Earth<br />You find the weak spot and you hit there<br />I see a golden city on a hill, but I don't think<br />I'll ever see you there<br />You don't ever know anybody<br />Half as well as you think you do<br />Just cos you don't wanna believe something<br />Don't mean that it's not true<br /><br />I never knew your kind of hatred<br />Your soul is fully corrupt<br />Your heart is tangled in turmoil<br />Your terror perpetually threatens to erupt<br />Don't matter what you think you know<br />You better shut your mouth and open your ears<br />You're takin' nothin' with you when you leave this world<br />Folly's forgotten, but kindness runs down the years<br />You don't ever know anybody<br />Half as well as you think you do<br />Just cos you don't wanna believe something<br />Don't mean that it's not true<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>You're My Girl<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 2002, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />You're my girl, my precious child<br />You're the future, you're the gold<br />I brush your hair until it shines<br />I cover you when the night is cold<br /><br />You're my girl, my favorite kid<br />You sing and play, you skip away<br />You never know I'm watching you<br />Your dreams will all come true someday<br /><br />You're my girl, my tender one<br />You think the world's beyond your reach<br />I give you gifts that you don't see<br />You always have something new to teach<br /><br />You're my girl, my little girl<br />And though time so quickly must unwind<br />One thing always will be true:<br />You're worth more to Daddy than a diamond mine<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-7424106373023606994?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-63806621210111048612011-10-21T11:33:00.000-07:002011-10-21T11:33:31.224-07:00<i><b>1. Torch Song.<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Like peanut butter too thinly spread we hurried toward the vertebral procession, across spacetime's sun-bleached carbohydrate ribs, stretching, stretching ourselves very nearly beyond our means, forever seeking an appropriate connection port & perfection of moment.<br /><br />There are circles inside circles, & these contain more circles inscribed w/in.<br /><br />Asimmer in the tryptophan stew, that's us. The house was gothic. . . .enormous. . . .you could drive your car (4WD) thru the front door & did. A murder mystery? I remember fast ghosts w/radar & each time they seized you, your echo glowed brighter the next. Fake mountain streams of transparent acrylic, only a thin skin of real water over the top, then the plummeting thru trap doors.<br /><br />You think I'm making this up? Flashout into birth's cataclysm my eyes burning fast now epileptic brinkmanship to the edge to the razor we go hi ho. (You can sometimes make out the printed circuits in the irises of those who've been here longer.) I do not WANT to tune in paint me psychedelic we're deep in the soup now & no mistake. There is an arc there is a current ride the murder electric plasma spasm suspended fierce & breathless between platinum balls, the blood curdling fire of desire, the edge of all things, way out at the bloodied lips of mortal incomprehension. . . .up for days, we're wide awake just waiting for the dam to break. . . .we see, some of us, the formless expression of an underlying voice, a hurtling wave of old black mud & concrete chunks. . . .telegraph-hearted orb at the center of the earth, at the center of my breast, click on then, tap-a-tap-tap-a-tap, signal the new dawn of creation into perpetuity. It, the shared communal language of the primitive voice, speak as kindred brainstems, stir thru dark eons bizarre & familiar, uneasily drifting thru misty sleep.<br /><br />An arrowhead for your thoughts. . . .I am the ghost telegraph. . . .I am the chipped human femur half-buried in the sandy wash. . . .it was a good day for the blowing up of birthday balloons, & smelling for all the world like great piles of fresh lawn clippings in the hot summer night. . . .primal experiences are not logical experiences.<br /><br />There were the clothes, the detective's trench coat for me? Many hrs to days for escape/solution/haunting. . . .as I was beginning secretly to suspect that there is no end to the worlds w/in the world, each containing his own world, reconstructing it day to day, hr by hr, minute by minute, & second to second. Images spilling out like fruit from a cornucopia when the unconscious mind comes bursting thru. By such paths do creativity & other varieties of madness enter the phenomenal world.<br /><br />It reflects the status of fragments of time, freedom flight manacles on feathery gill tongues, calcified brain lesions & nitric oxide. Returning. Broken shard of wing shell, dull black chitin: a modern relic. The royal signet ring rolled from the broken finger of the porcelain king, bounced down the stairs in rising arcs & plunged into a foamy sea. Thyroxin opens secret doors into the past, harvests head trauma colors that smell of Frankengod & unborn flesh on an old man's face, certain angles & the light & all, embryonic dinosaurs. Guilt & blame & burdens we are pawns to a man, eating ancient foods still, dry crackers & fruit slices, placental segments. You say: "I'm just working off my karma." The message (signal) is not independent of the medium. A good day as I should have said for the blowing up of the nearest Turkish embassy. & the answer she suggested to me, you fool, you've dharma to burn.<br /><br />(This way we have of convincing ourselves the world we inhabit now is the one true world.)<br /><br />Prawns, tentacles, twitching antennae, swimming drifting in pools of amnion, dank buckets of old blood, treading panic-stricken in the past, or in the prospects of countrymen for whom we know not how or even why we should live. Inevitably, the witch of the sands elevated his bones in her hands. . . .this might be thought of as our limit-loving psychology & often our emotional burden our poor ol' moral burden convincing ourselves that the laws of this brusque marrow & tallow world are the true & actual laws of Nature. . . .merchant on the beach, looking over the wall for example, over another sea, turbulent mutation globe of worlds in his hand; there, the tall ships cross over forever nowhere. That this is reality. The Genghis Khan People are just the same as you & me, caught up in the vortex, the mad churning whirlpool of history. This is where black edges up to white & we draw the line. (Hey, articulate this, bud.)<br /><br />Mesmerized by spindle lines again. . . .eagle eyes draw you in thru the portal of life. . . .sandstone spires twist weird knives at the smooth ivory throat of vulnerable noon. . . .we were quite prepared to do the evil that must be done by men under the eyes of heaven. . . .diamond patterns that burn, turn inward, reverse propulsion thru time, accelerating back thru navel quilted, the brain slides back a notch, catches against pins of restraint. . . .the bigger chunks, pick them up & assemble everything ad hoc into a shaky, approximate mental mural reconstruction called (w/out irony) the real world. . . .& underneath the skin meanwhile underneath the fine network of incoming jagged edge & jaded sensory input inside that opaque shield from raw reality about which we've been speaking which pretends to be a perfectly lucid window into reality there is an engine there is a field of pure existence of pure equity w/the spiritual essence w/the cosmic galactic spiral slice spirit-infected w/all the balance the yin & squeezing thru the diamond-lined pockets of exploding stars, I'm beyond your petty word play, twisting thoughts & routine concepts like molasses, like spun sugar, that way & this to my own ends. So many lifetimes are forbidden to us-so much colorful drama. Not to have known certain sadnesses. . . .I will not bow before fools. In the joining of clubs there is much to alienate the conscience. The yang the true prime breath of living under all pure ultimately free there must be this thing this real thing the transcendent the hope for actualization needle-threader the mind. Hosts rise aided & abetted under a cantankerous cerebellum, there they live & stir, dark, haggard armies, entire legions of slivered soldiers decked for savagery momentarily flare up in transient passion like so many computer subroutines wriggle & contract. Ice blue daggers. . . .never content. . . .and anyway, what's the use of being alive if you don't experiment w/your humanity?<br /><br />Electrical birth of the original syntax flashing skid marks in a blinding rain, arcing an ozone burn. Volcanoes, fire rivers. They were all enemies as a consequence of ancient land feuds whose roots were now at best mythological, but under a greater force of protection they could get some quality robbing & killing in. Thus we were made to feel right at home. Fire flowers where the flesh feels raw earth & stars swirl Van Gogh-wise, scissors roll on pinwheel novae. A newly rediscovered ancient chemical tongue, feeling one's way cautiously-hurried along narrow hallways feet twisting giving way walls recede at a glance at lightspeed & the ghosts in the machine searching for some half-concocted port of connection simmering in the nerve crunch, ceilings low & hot, reshaped tissue for lunch, had a hunch. Don't tamper w/paradise locks. We could advise them on negotiations all right just sign up w/our little organization & on religion & the terms of a working peace or at least the masks of institutionalized systems of caste enslavement. Rich indigo sky & sharp bear grass in a wild wind to slice cleanly thru to the soul. . . .drive time & the eyelid movies metal intestines persistent blood vessels infiltrate a wooden ship flaming torches on the upper deck raving over the top over the top lifting curved bow beyond gone.<br /><br />Deep w/in the sleep zone w/a familiar, comfortable parasite, yet static electric signals wince up & down the spinal staircase.<br /><br />There is one machine language but so many applications. My head hurts at the sentences squeezing out mandatory for slight infractions or enticement & entrapment. No games here please on this big spoked drum while riding restless. The blind egg in the flesh - the Great American Curse. Historians will note revolution's been here a while now but we are forbidden to notice it just yet. Am tired of all this punishment & crime. Take my anger to the streets. The boy-fool on the white pony raises the silver horn to his lips. Unfamiliar telephone voice soliciting my membership in the Union of Concerned Iconoclasts Local 314. Buckling under the skin like freeze-paint or earthquakes or sinks of crushed ice, face-first into rarefied sobriety & choking on something hard & raspy. . . .born to be a voice of grass among the trees in solitude.<br /><br />The guests were adorned in pendant jewelry & cut glass, exquisite, seated properly along long, dark tables for the bacchanal. Strings filled the cool air, & loud voices, laughter, & stories, jests. What a crazy cocky American self-image sure, arcane explosion event w/rockets & home-made ice cream meandering thru w/o taste. The laughing man w/small teeth, relentlessly polishing spectacles, the tall woman, glum willow, her smile a passing high cloud, thin wild energy lightning shooting out sideways in furious forks & time lost repairing the gadgets of man. . . .chromium resistance mercurial cube. Time waits for no man so I won't wait for time. Spitting out distasteful flecks of the original intrusion. . . .illusion - insubstantial flowers, petals, the rubies of our leaves, slow plugging, the drunken gurgle & the recondite slap of a corpulent queen. . . .these monthly rituals & filthy money, wringing out corruption to stain the blot of evil blood. . . .all this, temporal detritus adhering around the shins & knees, that clings to skin when the truly big lesson is learning to keep your big mouth shut, to subvert the pretender. Flags blazing guns & drum beats waving bumble bees hearts of beets defibrillated unfurled proud-hearted wasted love in a desert burned up ash sage sooty snowing setting smoke glowing sludge. Yellow & black bands, slow flick of forked tongue, black as deep cool caves w/blind fishes. . . .yet uneager for the latest news. . . .patient nearly as the earth itself. Last eagle dies of respiratory distress - too much experiences.<br /><br />Unfortunately we can relate in tropical climes, feeling the season of the roots of stone chipper despair.<br /><br />Squirmy living, settle back deep in subconscious mind sipping death venom. . . .wetware. Resorting at last to desperate ink fumes, fine tip. . . .consider if you must this to be an act of religious zeal. . . .an act of supreme faith. . . .opening escape hatches for those fractured fellows down near the cool sea bed. . . .to take a break & sigh, if only for a little while. My object vanished into what hole piercing the side of the sky & letting air go out w/it? Down drips the ichor of the mother wound. Where has she gone these lifetimes past now apart these altered persons these exchanged worlds. . . .these changes so much change surely bartered & broken purchased & abandoned, these new worlds indeed splintered & sawn weepy planks & sundered & branched so far now irreconcilable. . . .I can relate to much which you despise because you despise much that is embarrassingly revelatory. But one time I remember when everything might have been different at that hinging point in our time at that particular breakdown, you know? The earth does not wait & no school of philosophy can therefore devour the world as I can, supremely disinterested in any form of recognition; compelled, nonetheless, to record for you the cleansing acts to which we've alluded, which char my papery endothelia. . . .you are lost. . . .too tightly clinging barnacle among men. This may be a time for reflection but I think not, looking neither north nor south but here where this spectacle reigns at rest where there is no describing there is no explaining these strange threads I am called to wear, this out of time existence, this alien yet welcome castle. To consider the acrylamide fibers which you've inhaled, too, & the tips & tones of Fiberglas bells. . . .like timorous tongues wind chimes.<br /><br />Mindbending rant, we stretch arms aching 'round to embrace dawn's glory hairshine rays melting golden glue. Target garden is behind your eyes, still was, man's limits self-imposed, the sky is free. Wilderness knows no landlord. Wilderness w/in your stony ephemeral cranium. We all are as artists working in the soul. To say: "I have responsibilities" is to cave in to irresponsibility to discontinue maintenance of the holy flame; a prisoner w/mind intact is a prisoner by choice. According to our orders, which were very clear on this matter, we soldiers then went marching toward the perpetrator who sat dining in a fragrant garden, full of the odor of yesterday's lawn trimmings in the close night. Ah, choices. . . .3-dimensional web of metal cables, spiders w/human faces dance limber & swift, blood on sharp mouth parts. . . .I am getting sick there are spiders & lice in this meal. Huddle 'round the video men for a story I will tell. . . .sudden flash of coiling green smoke snake mouth closing in on unsuspecting prey terrifies the brain like oil spilling across redly glowing metal sheets, a verdant borealis hazy cooker springing thin steel wire traps. . . .options to explore. . . .we melt into one before we know it we've dissolved our brains, we flash violently across gods' faces the mind conceals what the vid reveals, only lost causes change us & believe me buster we must change. . . .flinging out arms in the broken ice at any possibility. . . .a protective barrier probably one stitch before us, so thin that skin, thorns thru tongues for repentance & cast iron stomachs intrinsic factor rust circle blades whirring the mowing snake's among us secret in a bowler hat to build a perfect man soul irrigated in a blue bottle. Whirring blades. Who be the profit of the times? Tryptophan lightning on the dorsal spine darkness burning in pools, irritated & pop-hissing.<br /><br />They are worlds w/in worlds. Boxes w/in boxes. Circles w/in circles. These molecules are killing me. Fluorescent zebras hard press a function key. . . .mosquito-headed mongrel machines tear the air & terrorize motorists & their sterile butterflies, angels whirling midway from heaven. The rapture is on hold the Angel of Death was lost in Nueva York. Intangible connectors. We fail to align as we sputter-emote the fallacy of the memo, the moment of the document's recognizable demise. & clearly none of them is real.<br /><br /><br /><i><b>2. Squeak City.<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Passion. Light. Elastic embryo, transmit molecular code.<br /><br />(Just an illusion of frightful roulette. Stuck back in the time of bush men in loafers.)<br /><br />Flaming like acetylene, a misplaced corpse gone over the top. . . .city lights, sorry industrial reflection of spinning infinity. What new miscast beast shuffling hesitantly tonight under strangely calculated galactic pastures? Stars & blinking traffic lights humming high voltage & LEDs. Waves w/in gambol & percolate in the capacity to metamorphose from the butterfly into the creeping larva, to become that which you most fear, most despise. Concentric stellar ripples over an unsteady purple Mylar desert sea, liquid dunes. Over the top. These molecules pressing outwards against my skin. . . .a thin film where worlds collide like steely dew drop billiard balls. . . .glistening orbs, quicksilver marble eyes flashing these patterns & colors, agitated, circles-triangles-rectangles & slowly twisting spindle lines draw us receding into the spout of consciousness. Many worlds exist w/in the world.<br /><br />Mental garrets of compliance in the era of the padded cellular vesicle & deadly diamond explosions 'cross LPT1 (I try to not let my scorn shine thru). . . .we know how color grunts in whispers of forgotten freedom. . . .the keys to a secret other kingdom w/in a city skeletons & ghosts moon dance in a lake dry dust bed fills up the soiled eyeballs like bearings rusty & bleeding faucets dust, dust dead grass lost trust in soulful improvisation. The letter of the law, single head lamp-eyed bile lamprey implosion sucked into a void unwitting, voluntary vomiting, slow & soft plop & out of our heads. . . .this lack of emotion more sinister than cynicism this the post-cynical microcosm cardboard cereal flakes this when TV speaks to us in dull, forgotten languages, dead tongues of crumbling beetlemen, this.<br /><br />Clocks all ticking brains all tripping the computer is the drug you be the judge. The pattern has mutated to fill all the screen. Bring the wine up from the cellar. Pour the poison in the pail. As if these elections affected you. Log the values in their fields & cure the disease. There is a rotting sweetness in every falling flake of snow & the high tingling hum, the wind on the wire, the beating wings of war, the soft denial of timeflow, the sink into forever now dissolution of flesh & soul & the endless flocks of silent blackbirds w/dry eyes, images plundered by an emotionless necroholic. Good bleats of dull sheep. This is no time for mind expansion. The tangible world is thinner than mist - we are sloppy molecular puddles. These failing worlds easily recognized. They are boxes. They occupy the spaces of rectangular solids. Thus you may recognize & doubt them. . . .nowadays though the technology is more artistic, intricate, miniscule & dangerous. . . .I have a recurring dream of a cat that pulls a large fish - maybe a catfish - out of a river. The fish has baleful, but observant, human eyes. When the cat claws it at first the fish bleeds red blood in four long slashes, but soon this turns to thick black motor oil, & when the cat opens the fish a jumble of metal gears & levers & wires & transistors, resistors, circuit boards, capacitors, vacuum tubes, power supplies, ceramic knobs spill out in a noisy crunch like a weekend family car wreck. But the empty-eyed fish watches on & on. Nucleoplasm pours out sloppy plastic. . . .save the incriminating evidence on a floppy & vomit rational numbers. The signal is burning all down the wire. Don't soil the plane. Purge your hard black shell of spastic slumbers. The silver serpent devours his tail: please don't scream at the rain.<br /><br />The night was unexpectedly wet & they were less familiar anyway w/that terrible country. Speaking of the old victims in the diluted way of years, but the savages must be brought up to moral standards if we are to achieve the necessary clamp on human creativity. Who will resist who be the prophet of this burned transformer carnage waste? Smoke thick rising like sated dragon, unchallenged terrorist plunder. We maybe are too old burst lips frozen blue oozing bilivirdin lip pulp under thick, soiled words, old concepts clink, hard stones & dry. Heroes & other devout crusaders must have days like this. But it is hard sometimes all the time really preaching the obvious to obviously unweaned intellects. Even the revolutions are planned & advertised in advance, choreographed spontaneous cable commercial campaigns & no one believes anyway I, no, no one, no one no I we need a brand new program a new algorithm, a mind blowing intestine chewing blitz & like I say serving time every one of us each pilgrim in prison (part of the ordeal you understand quest junket vital necessity of the bursting bud). Circles squares triangles lines that I see. Little marble ideas spin & come apart & click together broken like tree limbs or telephone poles in the hurricanes & wheat fields lashing grain lightning ozone burst drifting spinning dizzy. High throat flighted pitch & wings twist, spiral into fearful near-oblivion. A TV-headed lizard croaking static & burping soap commercials in dry dunes, fringe-toed swimming down in sand refugee from the blazing silver eye. Down we come in spring baling wire rust automobiles & other wagons, wretched furniture dross strapped on against new beginnings, this is how we barter time in chunks of broken lifestems.<br /><br />Take this little trip before you slip into carnivorous despair. Fire rising in lost girls' hair. Cockroach dutifully sniffs the past. Egg cases & rotten shoe laces & LPT1. Good morning & welcome to the friendly voice of the swarm WANT splattered against space piping hot resentment secret boils so secretly & secrets of secrets kept from themselves in chosen conformity & mindless compliance. A rising frenzy this is how taut genes sing wildly dizzy turmoil & the slimmest sea wall to contain the onslaught of jihad. . . .& fear only some unconnected language stuff some letters cuneiform scratches against meaningless surfaces paper flowers this where reluctant skeletons grow flesh back guts nervous tissue skin grows more firm tongues & voices that squeak out perplexed new fleshy skeletalspeak. Stones turn to roses, worms into hands. They are: TV sets, rooms, houses. They are: parcels of land & swimming pools & subdivisions & neighborhoods. They are: towns & cities & counties & states & nations.<br /><br />Boxworld.<br /><br />Moment & movement. White & black, time & space. A monument to the evolution of the onion & its union w/an aluminum sun. This black & white run together eventually & world laws revealed flawed. They are not absolute after all not final no. So constructing then to the four points a new world, broader, more encompassing, for ourselves, we build it & light it brightly new borders & draft it new laws. & these laws too fail over time. . . .flocks of birds, no pennies for dead cord wood. Rag snags on cold lonely wire. . . .you live by your convictions, you just might die by a lie. Humming like violent high seas, torture saws. Clouds mustard lavender bruises. Lymphspray. The fishing net breaks drifting, random killing fragments. Birds ragged sky holes. Our friend the automaton. . . .every clock is numbered. The people here are patently insane. Madness in the machine. You would not believe it. Only so much delirium a human can comply w/& remain human. Machines designed to promote their own violent demise-that's life in these United States of Vegas. What's so human about this industrialized incarceration of the intellect/emotional strata? The out-dogged cower & whimper & whine, beaten at their own game. This is squeak city & baby you're the cheese.<br /><br />Comply or die: resistance is futile. Machines don't hallucinate. Don't salute until you are saluted to. You can run but you can't hide. These minds frustrating locked in aboriginal peasants digging ants digging roots high in slate mountains & obsidian & woodpeckers, conifers, & bushes shot thru w/new lavender blooms. Straw brooms for sweeping up the dirt, gray squirrels that hunt down around heavy rocks in the stream bed dry now. . . .sunlight thru velvet oak leaves. Bay leaves, steam. These are the minds I mean, though you might doubt it, these powers, potentials, ensnared by pettiness, by self-promotion in the phony market of status. . . .but one day as the wetware interfaces. . . .<br /><br />We are watching you, always watching you. We know what that smile is intended to signify. You are weak, & we seldom resort to violence.<br /><br /><br /><i><b>3. Full Circle.<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />I cannot begin to imagine the degree of T. Jefferson's disgust. . . .had to quit the coliseum early - too bored w/hot lion breath down back of my collar. Besides, I didn't want to wait for the Supreme Court to convene my special case. Like I can sing you this song but I can't wait around for your belief to settle & shake down into place. . . .I dig humanity in principle. Do you get at all the edges of things the unique quality therein frontier of expectation? These insights we must add to our injuries. Listening like adolescent girls for years (in practice we must decide for ourselves) to worn out records before ears come unbuttoned to hear inner seedlings rupture sound & space, the full-burnished bright & shining mirrors blazing fiery red silver sheen golden spectacular glow, not fully consciously maybe (certainly) set to define global politics but. . . .these days you don't meet too many people w/pride in their work, though arguments marshaled & standing at the ready. . . .the liability remains nevertheless or ought to rather if there were such a thing as justice. . . .craftsmanship gone now down the lonely slick path of fast food. . . .this was no idea of mine. Anyway, no one I voted for.<br /><br />Broken up, everything is chopped up in little pieces. When I think of you I think of teeth, eyes fierce. I think of finishings. Bridges blown up in wartime. Overturned carriages & library fires. When I think of you I picture broken clocks, terrified matadors in bloodied silk, unblinking eyes of snakes & the musky smell of human serum. When I remember you.<br /><br />Postulate: two gigantic polished mirrors, as for reflecting telescope but a more immense scale & perfectly parallel, regarding one another in lust/disgust light too bright to cast perspective-yielding shadow, illusions of grand truth. Grand illusions of truth. You know Jesus might show up tomorrow but maybe not before next year. Mirrors to reflect cold inhuman legislation mechanizing all human action mechanical intelligence nerve arc reflex genuflection & intercourse all stasis of merchandise & radio indigestion. When you've come full circle & lost all respect even passing interest I would say in the gods & their laws worshipped in your home town you get nailed apathetic in the rubber stamp catechism the catch-all don't have to stop & think about it label device medallion w/yellow short ribbon strip attached, might even just blow off the whole spectacle & kind of disappear & why not I think I would too into the fading morning mists & all while some of you people so busy decorating your houses like that to impress foreigners whose opinions you despise you know full well as do I & yet joining political parties so your voices are amplified & sound wise shouting slogans down dried up wells gathered squawking together secure in the knowledge of phony issues & positions ("issues & positions" & other created dissembling concepts & words) you feel obligated to embrace or to ridicule just to be satisfied by the conditioned flock bleating & nodding of strangers heads vacant of thoughts more complicated than latest pop hit syrup lyrics w/no weight herds of human cattle. So much for caginess then you'd surely agree I trust sick of so much judging based on superstition jealousy & down in trite political grooves I mean just like ancient game path hunted for years by the same tribes who just sit & wait for you to stumble into the gun sights. W/out a doubt he'd be thoroughly put out w/all these self-proclaimed lovers of Christ (really just another well-worn rut or bland rant hunted two millennia now) who live to press their political agendas, all itching to drive the cruel circus well beyond the border of decency when they can't even manage to get their own lives in order. Just think of all those private shrines across Europe if that helps you w/their genealogies all laid out of the political dead dead dead no coming back do not forward dead not about improving the condition of man but squabbling over ever thinner slices of pie. That's why I'm getting out. (Ten years from now maybe fifteen you'll get it suddenly oh yeah ah ha so that's & then you'll see even though no one else but better late than never.)<br /><br />How many times must we watch these commercials repeated? Were you shopping for a passport to the last port on the cruise? Did you expect to find eternity in Santa Fe or Baton Rouge? Wearing chain mail leisure suits, bobbing in the thick of it, lances at the level, jousting behind perplexed expressions w/expectations of a uniformity that never can exist. Oh that's just the news the mirror reflections of the posers who mimic manufactured human deathtimes. A bean, then, dietary attempt at translocation psychic penetration of deep-sea ooze. No ornamental gadfly, no harbinger of the grinding ice. . . .dust gritty in the ointment & insect exoskeletal fragments. Belies our local calm, see. & limping wounded opened up across a tan trail of sizzling stars & sirloin steaks w/sea clam sauce & ferocious bursting comet orb debris, hazy spray into silence milk, stony teeth & enzymatic saliva to digest the stain spreading & reduce, return to the whirlpool of inspiration, exhalation into conjured original form bodies & spiritual metamorphosis. Some lingering sentiment. . . .some trace of the original innocence of birth, trudging thru the soil where commodities have obvious worth, thought I saw you threaten to suffer an original thought, but I guess maybe it was just a shadow across your face.<br /><br />No preferable compass than that I suppose, all points converging toward equivalency. . . .absolute serenity. Super or sub conscious? Universal? What then are we? Your fear, your irons. Your doubts & a list of strangers you've encountered, up close but as far away as You-Know-Who. Pusher of buttons, you buy your morals canned. These are powder keg experiments, waiting for the cylinder lid to fly. These are excessive moonbeams, lunatics & smoke rings & yet I reconsider & must wonder about whatnot those lost trails, those paths forsaken not by choice nor accident but by a more fickle & sinister, subtle process - those shrewd forces the sorcerer cannot influence. Posture for the mirror, dip into the vortex, dive into infinite regression & believe what you read. Not despite his best efforts, those switching stations, streamers of blue & golden lights & thin red blood tangle thru triangular matrix that already itself is a struggle sometimes to recall as a mandala, more than the curving ripples in the sea of wave interference. The hollow tree meanwhile drinking clayey water as the planet tumbles humdrum thru the body of lights. & you: "Did I say the right thing?" The dying at a river of earth, sickness & disease & eternity, & you: "Should I call in sick?" Participant in the mental slave trade, willing & eager. Sun is early rising, a black river that shimmers, fire dancing on the water. Willow leaves we now see crying above silver slivers of light that flash like fiercely polished eating utensils & deep blue jewels & crystals dangling on narrow brown wrists of youth. Smells of slow green watercourse to fill our nostrils full in the summer of strumming banjos & red plank row boats as slick rainbow trout glide out & inside the fluid atmospheres. . . .scroll thru files I shall as the leaves flutter windy on the trees, madly in search of the secret column. . . .it must be out there, waiting. . . .the intrapersonal bureaucracy has taken its toll on me. Unmitigated trust has gone undetected these past fifteen years. We manipulate our friends to advance our own careers, so careful to defend against the least unplanned for insertion or deletion: the mauling of America in the last stages of completion.<br /><br /><br /><i><b>4. Worlds w/o End.<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Nature is neither old nor young. She is not beautiful or repulsive. She is not patient or impatient. She does not hesitate, but she is not impulsive. Nor is she passionate, yet her all passions fill. She is at once biting cold & scalding hot, wracked in the birth-pangs of cataclysmic weathers & shot thru w/perfect solitude & peace at death's firm insistence. She knows all things, she knows no single thing. No words she speaks, yet there is none wiser than her most wounded student.<br /><br />Guns & explosions our rockets rise on pillars of fire a controlled burn flames on mountainsides illuminate the darkness gila monsters stir forked tongue flickers testing. Don't trust no talkin' gods. Shun the bleach & eat a peach. . . .We are all sitting outside the pit house puffing on a big green peace pipe. Not fashionable no more - the fireworks in the flesh. . . .too much confusion too many distractions abound around these parts spare me the deluge of details, if you please. . . .too late we are burning we are lifting we are rising now, now we're shifting the sky is turning above an eye that's burning in the middle of an open field where we toil in black humus soil, busting the links in the great chain of being someone has left the fold if you know what I mean not too far removed but a facsimile of a little rebellion more like a charade of revolution, a mockery of the self, the soul, the great harmony of being. . . .separated from the earth itself. There are tragic heroes & then there are the buffoons: the road of self-delusion leads to the palace of exile, the intrusive, invasive wickedness we do not hasten to mention. Timeshifting thru prismatic colorspray. To know limits, to hunt them down & scribble on them words of both refute & respect, to punch & to kick, to push back the brooding storms to clear horizons, to clear the decks & let 'er rip. . . .horse head forged in brass tack iron ring eyes wheel scream melting to long jaw bone yellow tooth & steel & porcelain frame. . . .bursting cells, surrender your marvelous purple dye, binding pigments. Not to join a movement. To be free. To enliven the senses drunk on the music of the spheres. This is the house we live in. . . .this is not some cursor steady on your screen & brilliant blue sparking filigrees. . . .when the moon winks out away by not looking at it, thru thin branches & lungs & twigs. . . .my intention was not to pull up this landslide around cold limbs in bed & it is breaking now I hear it creaking & cracking now, it is left. . . .wounded.<br /><br />Turning colors inside out to discover the fires that drive hidden engines & engines prehistoric w/in engines as the flowering shoot mind-wrecking, freedom-gulping games in which they willingly engage, while purple beiges merge & melt 'cross abandoned alleys in infinite wave packets & spicy swirls, thrown for a loss. . . .so many locked up in heads w/key-shaped pacifier. . . .push to operate. . . .yes! Split wide, forc'd apart, cracked open, broken shellfish, sharp-sliced, freshly cut & succulent oozing, spill your blood, your lymph, your bile. Pour forth contents of bladder & bowel, gray-white chips embedded in deep nervous tissue. Exsanguinate forcibly into the viaducts & channels & tributaries & cisterns of Nature. Gush greedily! For all shall be renewed that you may be born in time, freed in time, ruins of a ship unleashed from the crushing rocks of social values, customs, manners, flotsam & jetsam. For you have swallowed valueless values, unbelievable beliefs, inconceivable concepts, & invisible visions. You, who are but a nod, who are a curt bow, or less - who are an eye blink maybe, a whisper, a rumor of a whisper of a whisper. . . .the silent bookends supporting a hand clap, a match strike, pupil-squeezing phosphorescent flash, you, yes, existing only as you imagine that you might exist, or even less, as an unwitting fraction of something far bigger than yourself, transcending space, straddling time, feeding time w/moments & drenching the chiaroscuro outlines & smudges of motion w/saturated color. Green toads on cool red walls. . . .amphibia abounding w/in glass blue pitchers of water. . . .tequila attack under wheeling sun golden light like dormancy. . . .like financial opportunity born of the earth soil creatures thick w/it damp breath. . . .& slipped thru sideways slats over time on the flip side fringe of our mornings especially when it rains.<br /><br />We are thinking we are talking this particular path we are taking not because it goes to a destination enamored by our secret beings but due to other matters of which we are reluctant to converse. So the gem-throated hummers drink breast blood & aquatic feathers in a slit light when there is little breeze. . . .orange fish w/popping O-mouths testing limits of this universe world persistently. Walking, wandering out on the open desert, cookie-shaped hearts in streets of ovens, under an uncreated atmosphere, gila monster w/beaded skin.<br /><br />Everything happens. . . .everything occurs. Is there a metaphysician in the house? Vision: the infinite, glittering, intrapenetrating tree, drinking at the pristine wells of Time. Spectacular, supraluminescent, unfolding & nothing ever lost in its gossamer glassy substance. . . .minds like radar echoes on its highway space in motion already gone before they're seen the hanging places the grommets. . . .pins to the works. Detaching from the imaginary physical world as detach we must we free our souls from tactile prejudice from arbitrary limits unhitching of crude hammers & prisms & enter the open network the perfectly silent hurricane. . . .<br /><br />Projections of silica consciousness fail to resemble the human paradigm. Anthropomorphism a theology in decline. Futures contort indescribable peculiar & hazy flashes of metal, a minimal number of underlying rules synergize predictably to establish complex patterns & behaviors. . . .higher reasoning so-called a trick of rearranging or substituting various simple subconscious constructs to approximate desired goals w/editing until satisfaction. . . .peace, man. . . .careening precariously thru intermeshed grids of demonstrable evidence. . . .This inter-knitted network of solid electronic wave blasters. . . .The hurricane of reason, the hurricane of the solid paradimensional eternity realm folding down unmeasured axis toward mind-distorting box waves convergence points ride infinity's surf raging warfare into & then & then. . . .exceed all false limits & losses & prophets flying up above free free like birds of ice across new moons of our own volition. . . .new corridors & wind-swept high pylon-decked planes of air. . . .new rings 'round giant gaseous planets new cauldrons dropped therein bubbling forth furious new species of reptiles plants & deep sea fishes phosphorescent bulbous darting new races new colors new flavors of creation this the vision the horizon ahead new definitions of conscious existence as we step across another analog universe, new galaxies just thought up or digital, our chosen stepping stones into a floral fountainhead of ultimate possibility where we must part & put down fingers into unexplored depths of possibility & remove them dripping wet w/the fiery substance of unmade worlds w/out end. . . .<br /><br />We are endpoints, we are terminal expressions of the whole, nondimensional & unhelpful misleading for the drawing of inferences.<br /><br />From out of the darkness comes a chant, from midnight's navel shake of a tambourine. . . .drum beats, the low patter-tap, a deep, sonorous river, hoary w/time & patience, no expectations. Are your ears open to pursue a calling? There's a burden on your back, I know that you don't see it there. Do your television eyes still hunger for another startling & refreshing image? There's a formless word worked in gold leaf inscribed in every wordless eon whispering behind your ear, waiting until you're ready to receive it. There's a signal that your traveling companions aren't hearing. Though they labor w/o rest to anchor themselves to the guy lines of this world sometimes you suspect their souls slowly disappearing. Vivid visions drip undistilled from the hollow skull of the broken brain. Skeletons dancing, tambourines & pipes & rattles, whistle chime & jangle-jing. We must split open our souls to music, to magic we don't see, we don't smell, sniff, feel, taste. Ideas ignite the sky like volcano glow, lambent, rich. Thought I found the source of the raw creative force, swirling, chaos power. Here, we break out of waking sleep, we shirk the bright light, we move in pale places where the sheer contrast swells us, inflating all things, puffing up sails, & we are driven into another ocean of bell-spouting souls, hydropneumatic. Papier-mâché skeletons gibber, shadows filter long & dark & frightful, familiar. This is a bitter mercurial tea, but it will cure you of the special intoxication which numbs your limbs & nerves today.<br /><br />I have seen this before.<br /><br />Out of the timeless time, out of the mindless mind, out of the voiceless throat, out of the foundered boat, under a bountiful earth, worth more than you'd think it worth, over an unexpected wall, falling where all conceits must fall, this ghost, she is projected, made manifest, right out of the video game: high-tech she is, wearing a primitive necklace, shell, silver, & bone. Thanks me, she does, for my time. & I, her. Then. . . .the alarm. . . .there is this great & ancient sea, full of mystery, secrets, fragments of myth & unknown ancestors. I ride the small boat like a shell under the weather of emotion. There is an island called Memory which I see thru association; unbidden messages come from the deeps, called intuition. Beyond the atmosphere, beyond the benthos, the skin that protects us, that translates for us, the locked bars of perception. . . .there are the storms overhead & the swells below & there is me, riding the boat thru, & conjuring a new almighty tsunami. . . .<br /><br />I tell you that your society is no thing. I assure you that your history is no thing. Past, future - all envelopes less significance than the least stone upon this earth, the least molecule of oxygen which we breath, which was when the dust on your books was an ancestor, which will be when your children's children themselves settle upon books, or upon computers, or upon rocket engines or upon mechanized insect intelligence - it is of no consequence: the molecules remain. The stone does not perish. The earth abides for ever.<br /><br />All of these souls, all of these brains. . . .the potential is boundless psychic synergism polytemporic network webwork extending thru endless ages dramatic. . . .yet egos bound by political considerations not governmental but useless distractions & delays of mundane concerns. . . .the brainstem & cap autonomic functions especially the organizing principle to regulate our chariots we know thru empiricism more difficult a problem more technical for example than ever anticipated spatial temporal manipulation of physical activity everyday extend arm flex fingers elevate glass of wine no firm set of differential equations there to evaluate in the local field conditions in the problems but semi-autonomous functional units nerve ganglia prehistoric overlaid w/limited conscious nerve net reflex function arcs at local nodes primitive phylogeny.<br /><br />But now we have this miracle mutation unintended unexpected development reason or unclear reason then applying thru the shredder w/force, the logic backwards & undefining some certain brand name units of truth or presumed fact. . . .these postulates are handy aphorisms, nothing more, but then, nothing less than existence. Critical tension at the spindle nexus, mine eyes have drunk in the glorious spectacle. Running before we've mastered the delicate art of walking, these are the paths the pressure points-here, another form of balance, or preoccupation w/universe's hot breath, back of neck, hairs rise in anticipation of soulquake. (Somebody said something 'bout enlightenment. Wonder what he meant by that?) As the wetware interfaces one day the realm of subatomic species, as the quanta that cascade thru inspiration. . . .this compass drug, doors yawn open, eyes opening, endless stream-out. Is this what happens when the brain exits a tiny key hole?<br /><br />As the quanta that cascade thru the theater surge up against defective languages cultures that sneak back away from one another, when the breakthru comes & the language generators & translators are achieved & the soul enters the bazaar of super-reality, then these blinders become irrelevant & we become much more appealing. . . .stars I see, pine needles, croak of crows timeless, forever stained glass. . . .to step casually across a galaxy at a heartbeat. . . .to kiss the fiery lips of a nova new-born.<br /><br />Apparently, no end exists to this sane drug.<br /><br />Forever & forever & forever. . . .the physicist w/rows upon rows of equations in Greek comprehends how words abstract deeper truths. . . .there is a unity there is a oneness in creation there is an essential solid which suggests but ultimately denies itself to the senses. . . .white light shining all around you is not the summation of all colors of the spectrum the prism a particular crude hammer used to smash light one certain way only. . . .the more prisms we use to fracture the world surely the closer we approximate an explanation of the interactions of those broken parts out of context misquoted as usual but the further we stray from the essential unity of existence. Tongues, fingers, you see, throats, temperature-sensitive neurons, noses, vestibular apparatus, cones & rods, ears: all this & more highly specialized hammers for shattering the universe into a myriad of manipulatable tiny shiny fragments, for abstracting creation, pick up the bigger chunks & assemble everything. . . .<br /><br />Seep then beyond your skin. Seep out thru the pores of your face, my friend: this my challenge to you. Infuse the substance of this place. Saturate the fluffy wool of the world, dye creation in all the strange hues of your individual psyche. Become this very earth, become the serene cosmos, swallow whole the body of Nature & endure as more than an idea of an idea, as more than a dream of a dream.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-6380662121011104861?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-57489392615480907582011-10-21T10:59:00.000-07:002011-10-21T10:59:15.336-07:00<i><b>In the Beginning</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><i>All comedy, all tragedy. . . .</i><br /><br />In the Beginning GOD created the Heavens &amp; the Earth<br />In the Beginning GOD created the Heavens &amp; the Earth<br />Did He put His head in His hands when He realized what it was worth<br />All of the sorrows, all of the sin<br />All of the hatred, pain w/o end<br />In the Beginning GOD created the Heavens &amp; the Earth<br /><br />Next GOD separated the Night from the Day<br />Next GOD separated the Dark from the Light<br />Did He anguish over whether He'd gotten it right<br />Back-stabbing angels, original sin<br />If He could do you think He would,<br />Do you think He should do it again<br />Next GOD separated the Night from the Day<br /><br />Soon came the day that GOD made a Man<br />Maybe just for kicks, maybe some deeper plan<br />But Man is an atom on a speck in a mote<br />God runs a whole universe mister - that's all she wrote<br /><br />"To say nothing of God is not to say that God is nothing."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">- ROBERT T. PENNOCK</div><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Cattle of the Sun</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I was digging in the cemetery, plowing up the past. Bones<br />Came flipping out at me, furious &amp; fast. I<br />Wanted it to end, but I wanted it to last.<br />Digging in the cemetery, plowing up the past.<br /><br />You must remember this:<br />Power has a brutal logic that morality will not deflect. We<br />Rewind the video to find a scene that hasn't happened yet. Long<br />Lives evolve &amp; mutate 'til there's nothing to protect you from a<br />Long-forgotten land mine or a fatal character defect.<br /><br />We must rustle the cattle of the sun in<br />Preparation for the feast to come. The<br />Chimes will sound, the blood will run when we<br />Rustle the cattle of the sun.<br /><br />Throwing dice w/the Devil, wagering my soul. My watch was<br />Beating wildly, my heart ticking slow. I'd<br />Rather not stay here, but where else would I go?<br />Throwing dice w/the Devil, wagering my soul.<br /><br />Life is long, too long, maybe, or our view of intervals too narrow. We are<br />Swaddled in violent entanglements, lingering traces of time's trickery. Coffee<br />Piping hot &amp; pie &amp; unholy ministry. What<br />Random misery, what derangements await us,<br />Oh. . . .<br />These faces are so impenetrable.<br /><br />Fade in on dark headstones in dense fog. A<br />Shadow disengages itself from the grave,<br />Flash of silvery light.<br />There are thousands of shadows of men waiting,<br />Waiting for a golden dawn to come.<br /><br />I was digging in the cemetery, plowing up the past. Bones<br />Came flipping out at me, furious &amp; fast. I<br />Wanted it to end, but I wanted it to last.<br />Digging in the cemetery, plowing up the past.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Careless Lover and the Deep Lake</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Casual rover near the watchful lake,<br />You tarry, skipping stones across its skin,<br />Heedless of each perilous step you take.<br />Ripples extend and then founder again.<br />Carillon rivulets duly record<br />Eternal epochs, while in shallow pools<br />You bathe. Dripping memories, turn toward<br />Pursuit of transient acclaim and jewels.<br />But I would see you swim beyond shore's view<br />And dive beneath the cobalt waves until,<br />Passing night's portal, golden light pours through,<br />Disclosing eons we each instant kill.<br />Devotion awaits; discard suspicions:<br />Unfathomable love sans dissentions.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Valley of Roses</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Been walking thru the valley of roses under dark skies<br />Cold wind in my collar, ears stuffed w/lies<br />Walking thru the valley of roses under dark, dark skies<br />Thinking hard on the riddles in your eyes<br /><br />Gonna sit right down under a weeping willow<br />Rich soil is my bed &amp; take a stone for my pillow<br />Sit right down under a weeping willow<br />&amp; I won't study war no more<br /><br />Been walking thru the valley of roses under dark skies<br />These shocking allegations no longer come as a surprise<br />Walking on eggshells under dark, dark skies<br />A thief in a priest's disguise<br /><br />The executioner's a shadow against the setting sun<br />But for the grace of God he thinks look how all the criminals run<br />Lives collide like billiard balls behind marble walls in lecture halls &amp; shopping malls<br />Towing debris for years &amp; tattered fears stained in sloppy tears<br />Running blind thru razor fences w/proud disdain for mortal consequences<br /><br />The ice man cometh cometh<br />The ice man cometh cometh coming down<br />The ice man cometh the ice man cometh<br />Feel the sun's warmth all around<br /><br />Been walking thru the valley of roses under dark skies<br />I seek no blame or cause or fault<br />Walking thru the valley of roses under dark, dark skies<br />I lift my eyes to Heaven's luminous vault<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Stars of Your Face</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />In the vitreous darkness of wintry night,<br />When the olive-colored moon remains yet unborn,<br />Stars weave weird paths thru twisted spacetime<br />In the violence of nativity &amp; the silence of icy locality,<br />Piercing the gloaming, glittering on<br />Time's broken foamy bracken.<br />As I stare back up into the unblinking countenance of God,<br />Embryonic memories of awakenings rattle thru old neural labyrinths,<br />Lightening traceries of nascent opalescent cranial sutures,<br />Soft skulls shimmer, delicate coral, warm, salty pulse.<br /><br />These legions of spear-bearers descend en masse,<br />Swarms of stinging insects, ancestral hordes of debts unmitigated,<br />Fire &amp; blood dazzle adamantine weapon points<br />In the cemetery hour of shock-sharpened senses.<br />I recall the electric surge that threatened to carbonize fragile flesh,<br />The furiously insistent magnetism compelling anatomic coalition<br />&amp; the vital devastation of two phantoms in contact,<br />Solidifying the point of intersection &amp; discerning only then<br />The insubstantiality of all corporeal concerns.<br /><br />I have witnessed the same swarms of astral configurations in your eyes.<br />I have drowned in the galaxies coiled 'round your heart.<br />I have drunk from the tides of wine that pool in your blood.<br />I have honored the divine in the lines of your palm<br />&amp; deep w/in concentric stratums of your sacred pearl of sentience.<br />There, I have caught fleeting glimpses of myself.<br /><br />How then could I not love you, my wife, my destiny, my universe?<br />You are my heart, my soul, the core of my own world.<br />How could I profane the temple of our troth?<br />That narrow dividing synapse, elaborate fissure, that disjoins us houses the<br />Mainspring of Creation.<br />Our love is unfathomable, a savage hawk in flight,<br />An eternal sandstorm continuously rewriting the globe,<br />Infinite waves intersecting on the sea.<br />All winds blow from that infinitesimal fount,<br />All songs sound from the trumpet of our love.<br />All life springs from that bubbling well,<br />All possibility ensues when I'm close to you.<br /><br />For you are the stars I stare in the night.<br />You are the inexplicable future I'm forever chasing.<br />You are the essence of my very own being,<br />In sickness, in health,<br />In poverty, in wealth,<br />No thing in this world has any convincing reality to me<br />But you.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Atoms</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I am a witness the scene of the crime<br />I am a chronicle, sign of the time<br />Heed my testimony, these things I felt &amp; saw<br />My battle wounds are fresh, my emotions raw<br /><br />The continents are shattering, refugees scatter in all directions like wild, maddened ants<br />Economists chatter in nonsense sentences, interest rates stumbling thru a dangerous dance<br />Disease flames thru desiccated flesh, reduces species beyond recovery<br />The atmosphere evaporates &amp; cancer rates tempt pharmaceutical companies to pursue old discoveries<br /><br />Sweat shops, cloned crops, the Dow drops, grunge rocks<br />Digital pagers, new agers, raised minimum wagers, plugged in web pagers<br />Karnal bunt, poached elephant, the President says: "Let me be blunt"<br />Downsizing, economizing, executives rising take to philosophizing<br />Domestic terrorism, deregulation<br />Racial schism, hostage negotiation<br />Nuclear deterrence, plutonium smuggling, struggling to not fall down<br />Savage children, insane clerics<br />Myopic pundits, doomed heretics<br />Tropical jungles burning, all the men I ever admired turning cartwheels in their graves<br />Jesus saves, Allah rules, locker arsenals in the schools, dropping smart drugs, communal cerebration industrial raves<br />Jesus rises from the dead, lands a book deal, looks ahead to the screen play &amp; summer box-office receipts<br />I've seen a million miles, a million rules, a million simulated smiles, a million earnest fools, a million instances of self-deceit<br /><br />Progress stops, the unraveling starts<br />Feel your atoms fly apart<br />Withdraw your savings &amp; spend<br />This world's been condemned<br />But we may yet meet again my friend<br />Some sunny day<br /><br />I am a witness the scene of the crime<br />I am a chronicle, sign of the time<br />Heed my testimony, these things I felt &amp; saw<br />My battle wounds are fresh, my emotions raw<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>A Poem w/o Words</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The sea heaves as sloshing wine, bloody red w/foam.<br />Salt burns the nostrils under an old lactic saffron moon.<br />Trekking along the springing edge, sand crunching underfoot,<br />I re-live lost desert nights w/honed vistas of inconceivable clarity.<br /><br />The hiss of surge, spitting retreat of brine, the smell of driftwood smoke<br />Conspire to sear unsuspecting nerves, dispatch inflamed coursers thru my veins.<br />You crawled out of Earth like a poem w/o words.<br />But no Sea Goddess rises to my redemption. Stars turn their backs on me.<br /><br />I am a treasure map that's torn in two.<br />I am a rusted anchor on the floor of the sea.<br />I am cast adrift on melancholy &amp; bitter memory.<br /><br />How can these eyes be now so dimmed?<br />Luna haul your glistening nets back out to the Deep.<br />My hands are now tired &amp; soon I shall sleep.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Annals of the Dead</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Have you opened &amp; read the Annals of the Dead?<br />I have.<br /><br />Have you perused the catalogs of human deformation?<br />Twisted limbs, stunted growth, splayed rib cages, bulging skulls,<br />Horrific, naked human flesh.<br />We are too human, I sometimes think.<br />How can these monsters &amp; freaks arrange their lives?<br />They are catastrophes of biochemistry.<br />They dwell in a realm of experience beyond our ken, &amp; yet<br />They are no less real than we.<br />They eat &amp; breathe. They endorse checks.<br />Their homes are air conditioned.<br />Have you watched us tremble in pain?<br />&amp; do you feel no shame?<br /><br />Have you enumerated the rashes that deform the skin?<br />I have.<br /><br />Have you tabulated sexually-transmitted infections,<br />The curse of desire &amp; love?<br />How about the parasites, the amoebae, the tapeworms,<br />The flukes consuming the liver &amp; lungs?<br />Would you walk w/the meningococcus?<br />What of Haemophilus?<br />Have you watched a fish-infant gulping air,<br />Its insides crawling w/certain death?<br />I have.<br />I have swallowed it all up like a hypnotic motion picture<br />Up for every important award.<br />The foreign director splashes a dazzling smile for the flash cameras.<br />His celebrity status ignites the idiot night.<br /><br />We've all been infected w/a terminal disease, a<br />Familiar but nameless bacillus.<br />We are all the damned, cast adrift.<br />Sometimes we celebrate. Sometimes we cry.<br />Always we die.<br />Have you no pity all?<br />At the least reserve your judgment &amp; mark our progress<br />As we float down this dark river in fever.<br />Record the voices of the dead.<br />These are the only voices which can teach us<br />The fragile wisdom of spirit &amp; flesh.<br /><br />Listen.<br />Have you opened &amp; read the Annals of the Dead?<br />I have.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Rock &amp; Bone</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />'There is no normal to get back to.'<br /><br />The pestilence abides.<br />It is patient &amp; persistent.<br />This smiling face masks dread of<br />Lingering sickness.<br />What brutal, emotion-depleting task<br />Awaits the optimist in the land of<br />Rock &amp; bone?<br /><br />Now, everything whirls about<br />A precessing axis.<br />Molecular structures fly apart,<br />The heartbeat fails, the soul's exhaled.<br />Disembodied spirit voices wail,<br />Grief stuttered past splintered teeth.<br />The eye of the insane god blinks. Chandeliers<br />Clink, cut glass trembles in tectonic vibration.<br />The veils are down now &amp;<br />Everything is strangely. . . .unchanged.<br /><br />These microscopic legions unleashed &amp; unfenced,<br />The deluge of irrationality, the<br />Biological slaughter of the sinless:<br />There is nothing to forgive,<br />No transgression you may repent.<br />This is the train wreck in the pupil of the eye of the sun.<br />This, the bursting pulp around the knife attack, the<br />Final dissolution of faith.<br />Speak not of 'back to normal' to me.<br /><br />&amp; all of the lives which you have constructed<br />Have dried up &amp; are lost to the breeze.<br />All the lies which bring us so much comfort<br />Are fallen autumnal leaves.<br />All of the dying, suffering voices affirm the worm<br />Who's waiting in the wings.<br /><br />Wine &amp; poison are grown indistinguishable, as are<br />Loaves of bread &amp; stone.<br />Slowly burn your candle down<br />In the land of rock &amp; bone.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Theater of the Insane</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />These words &amp; worlds are stolen from us.<br />Now lost, they cannot even be imagined,<br />Much less recalled.<br />The Past, our executioner:<br />Bound in looping chains of<br />Damnable juggernaut clockwork DNA.<br /><br />The Sun was swallowed while we were astray in Dreamville.<br />Blood freely runs w/o<br />Conscience in the lucent geometry<br />Of cruel perfection, of impossible logic.<br /><br />Suppose for a moment there is no cure.<br />Suppose there is no cause.<br />No reason,<br />Only why w/o because,<br />Only genes &amp; dazzlingly crushed consciousness<br />Hurtled against the blood-stained &amp; brain-caked wall of<br />Space &amp; time.<br /><br />Feral in exhaustion. . . .the mind asunder &amp; broken. . . .the beast paces in his sterile cage. . . .sniffs the anesthetized air. . . .information comes in defined packets. . . .munitions in precision jackets. . . .warfare promptly justified. . . .you run you hide. . . .watch your back no one on your side. . . .flowers fed on sanguine pools. . . .cactus thorn pushed thru your thumb. . . .afterglow on damaged retina. . . .made to swallow pills of unknown efficacy. . . .treating an imperceptible malady. . . .trying to believe the unbelievable. . . .trying to deceive self to relieve sense of impending doom. . . .trying to stop the war w/a peace bomb. . . .sobbing in inner chamber of the heart.<br /><br />Planets atoms &amp; magnetic fields. . . .spirals of unwound DNA. . . .miles of optical fiber snake in &amp; out of technological decay. . . .pounding surge. . . .drowning in miscommunication. . . .all the lines are down. . . .shredded w/in the core of the pulsing star. . . .breaded &amp; served up w/staring eyes.<br /><br />The invisible monster at the hub of the city. . . .the crashing commercial passenger jet. . . .jabbering skull in taxi cab. . . .exchange of hard currency for goods &amp; services rendered. . . .get me out of this space. . . .fallen thru holes in the ocean. . . .all vital juices sucked out. . . .screaming for solitude for silence. . . .seeking to gather up scattered fragments. . . .to recover memory these things I can't afford to forget. . . .the little stealer of lifetimes. . . .the small griffin by the bedpost. . . .come to gnaw on remembrance.<br /><br />Though you might mistake me for human. . . .I'm just a shell. . . .I yearn for beach smoke &amp; ritual fire. . . .I burn for neurochemical desire. . . .to see alien colors dancing. . . .romancing strangers &amp; swallowing their eyeballs. . . .exhausted &amp; worn out. . . .too tired to recall whatever I came to doubt.<br /><br />Relays chatter,<br />Clatter, pass the baton from state to state.<br />Mind cannot be created or erased.<br />Spiritual mutation. We are<br />One sparkling, shimmering superintendence<br />Subsuming this flawed spectacle,<br />Theater of the Insane.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Too Much Experiences</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />What I really want is this:<br />A long journey, solitary,<br />Which ends in a desert of misshapen rock &amp; cliff<br />Sandstone towers, red ochre, under plain navy skies<br />W/o clouds or contrails<br />Only stillness-<br />No intrusion.<br /><br />Scarlet demons bleeding ruby irradiation<br />Multiply-articulated night-lights from Hell<br />W/in misty vortex, bronze-rust phantasmagoria<br />Aquamarine luster<br />(The disease hits the pores)<br />Dirty peasants haunt me, disembodied phantoms<br />The tail-ends of the dead, smoke curls as from<br />Crushed ends of expiring cigarettes,<br />Unexpectedly their vital prejudices retained.<br />I, drunk on data, excess imagery, my<br />Spirit must be fractured, ruptured. I<br />Fear the apparent imminent unveiling dance<br />About the shuddering edges of reality,<br />Tiny tongues of hungry, happy flame.<br />Prehistoric tree, gnarled phalanges desperate to catch<br />Or else be flung to<br />Chaos, to progress.<br />Old laws of physics spinning deep in the mud,<br />Twisted up neatly w/in perfect bud<br />Of a rose which threatens maturity.<br />Ocean waves, lambent, heavy air, which swell - too slowly,<br />Massive. Beneath, a yellow presence rising bulk.<br />Lightning flash hits the promontory - too silent.<br />One old man who stands there in brown robes,<br />His arms, still strong, are spread wide<br />To raise a power from beyond<br />Invisible tide.<br /><br />I have read. . . .Too much, methinks.<br />Shakespeare, Vonnegut, Weinberg, Hut &amp; Rees<br />I do not fear Ice-9<br />I fear vacuum decay triggered w/in cyclotrons<br />I fear assimilation by database<br />To be or not to be. . . .<br />I fear other possibilities.<br /><br />I am grown sick experimenting on the paths of wisdom<br />Pale vomit heaves w/secret moons which we may not know<br />Stoned on senses too long deranged<br />On poetry, on poverty, on painting, on Siddartha, on Christ<br />(On Comet, on Cupid. . . .etc)<br />Inspecting individual bricks of a rotting lighthouse<br />Too many investigations that sift down to mere sand<br />The living fruit sliced open in arrogant dissection<br />Too rich this fruit, too warm fleshy steaming<br />What wretched creature stirs on the shell-strewn shore?<br />What conscious cataclysm contracts to scratch the dark door?<br /><br />Yes. . . .<br />I am sick in time<br />I am sick in time<br />I am pierced thru the soul<br />Pursue no vain inquiries<br />You'd prefer to not know<br /><br />Eternal eyes &amp; ears to slip<br />Dewy slime along spider web of bone<br />Now gentle music roars moaning agony me &amp;<br />Molecular forces labor to desecrate chastity<br />My fingers shattered stone.<br />All slips into an acid ocean<br />Motion of glass snakes shake saw blade grass<br />Devour beating hearts slow &amp; grow,<br />Mutate into peacock w/human face &amp; lips that whisper<br />'Your enemy draws nigh &amp; will eat you alive.'<br /><br />My senses are broken strings suspended<br />Dust motes worry about statistics &amp; Gauss<br />The phantoms wander about w/o discernible purpose.<br />The famous acrobat plunging in fatal flames, but<br />The pools of time are deep &amp;<br />Space endures profane assaults on names.<br />Fly beyond repetitious cycles, rotation<br />Beyond fraudulent jugglers &amp; silvery spheres of art<br />The maddening mathematical tolling bells<br />Drag sore belly across foreign dirt &amp; grit<br />Pull leathery orbs from scorched sockets &amp;<br />Put them in your flannel pockets.<br />Slice clean thru wagging, bitter tongue<br />Immerse the splattered chassis in the fiery cauldron<br />From which glowing Creation's cautiously w/drawn.<br />Not to be re-forged<br />Not to be remade, anew<br />Not to suffer to be reborn<br />To fuse w/sterile, lifeless soil &amp; twist,<br />To integrate, to grow inert,<br />Deny to comply, yet fail to resist<br />Embrace the violent maelstrom<br />At the core of the worm<br />To swallow one's tail<br />The fetus turns w/in,<br />Blinks:<br /><br />Unexist.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>In Space</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />You're a wrathful meteor<br />Streaking thru the star-swept ceiling<br />W/all your senses reeling<br />Your logic circuits melted<br />&amp; I can't forget you<br />But when I try to catch you<br />You burn searing holes thru my soul<br /><br />You're a violent thunderstorm<br />Kicking scarlet sparks across the pristine desert<br />W/an advance army of whirling dervishes<br />Blazing lightning bolts rise from your tortured eyes<br />Ripping thru hot &amp; crystalline skies<br />To strike me where it hurts the most<br />You dissolve from my fingers just like a ghost<br /><br />You're a power to be reckoned with<br />Rising like Lazarus every morning the way you do<br />Nothing less than Heaven's glory fit to adorn the likes of you<br />A miracle incarnate w/your heart titanium encased<br />When I advance upon that sanctified chamber<br />You respond w/alarms &amp; celestial anger<br />Where I once found faith now lies coiled danger<br /><br />Am I another perilous animal<br />Injured in some half-forgotten foreign warfare<br />W/a belly wound from the blade of an unclean corsair<br />You know what they say about wounded animals<br />You contemplate coming near me<br />You wonder should you fear me<br />You perceive the paradox quite clearly<br /><br />I'm a demon from the underworld<br />I devour goodness &amp; light for my breakfasts<br />Then explode unprovoked &amp; leave no living witnesses<br />I make trust seem such a challenge<br />A blade precisely slicing thru a brain exact<br />Can you bridge the chasm to make contact<br />There's no such clause inside the contract<br /><br />Or maybe I'm a predatory bird<br />Who's hanging on your every word<br />Waiting for the chance to go for the liver<br />Yes I have seen your suffering<br />Your death-stuffed thoughts, your veins in knots<br />The living corpse that daily rots &amp; nightly heals again<br />I have slipped inside your skin<br /><br />But we're two desperate astronauts<br />Tumbling uncontrolled thru space, our capsule lost<br />There's no hope of rescue<br />We thought we saw the manna rain down<br />Maybe it was brimstone, the fearsome way it came down<br />&amp; the unmistakable way it chars the throat<br />Yes you &amp; I are lost in space<br />Running out of air &amp; out of grace<br /><br />I tell you that the time has come<br />The time when we must change into something new<br />Something like nothing this world ever knew before<br />The time has come to close our eyes &amp; hurl ourselves into the open skies<br />W/no one there to catch us<br />No more touch-up paint &amp; patches<br />No more playing in the fireworks factory w/matches<br />I am not your parents<br />I am not the model of perfection that sulks inside your skull<br />&amp; you are not my puppet<br />You are not another of my servants<br />This is no time for patriotism or foreign currencies<br />This endless parade of emergencies is killing everything we stand for<br />This is not about our countries<br />This is not about kindergarten heroes<br />It's like adding endless lines of zeroes<br />What's the point when you know where that will lead us<br />It's a gluttonous leech that bleeds us<br />The time has come to change<br />I will leave behind the wounded beast<br />You will leave behind your relic collection<br />We will leave behind the past<br />Look one last time w/fondness on what brought us to this point<br />Then leave behind the past<br />Together we can build something new<br />Something that will not scare you<br />You &amp; I are one thing<br />You &amp; I are a sovereign country<br />We are diminished when we're apart<br />The time has come for what's past to end<br />The time has come for you &amp; I<br />To fall in love again<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>It's Too Late</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Hangin' 'round these premises w/uninvited eyes<br />Gimmie cornbread 'cause I'm hungry<br />I'll give you salt water 'cause you're dry<br /><br />The stars &amp; stripes are fallen<br />Country's blown to dust<br />Mule's dead by the roadside<br />Plow's devoured by rust<br /><br />Season of silence<br />Season of tricksters<br />Blood on the sleeves<br />Season of whispers<br />Call up the preacher<br />Call up the ring-bearer<br />Season of love becomes the<br />Season of terror<br /><br />Seen a shadow in the field<br />Seen my brother in the mud<br />Seen a shadow in the field<br />Tears come down in flood<br /><br />Too much desolation<br />Too much despair<br />Too much desolation<br />Too much despair<br />Too much of this world extinguished<br />Too much goin' nowhere<br /><br />See them big trucks rollin'<br />You know you gotta hop 'em<br />Some things go so far<br />You just gotta stop 'em<br /><br />Give my regards to my loved ones<br />Never thought to shame 'em<br />But it's too late for me now<br />Tell them I don't blame 'em<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Proteus</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Melting in &amp; out of reason<br />Slipping thru each season<br />This hard logic is our treason<br />Breaking time in murder holes<br />Extruding vital pulsations thru narrow-mouthed ducts<br />The seed conveyed in milky mucus<br /><br />Swallowing the blazing loops &amp; logos<br />Each corporation w/its corporate font<br />Beer cans tipped in the high saw grass<br />Wind flickering 30 years in a tree like shredded rags<br />Families clasp hands to cross the street<br />Fathers carry babies<br />White clouds drifting w/o purpose<br />Wild rattle of the basket wheel<br />One soul one soul one soul<br /><br />I can't find myself<br />I'm scattered in too many places<br />Distributed thru foreign memories<br />Bit by bit<br />Descended down too many lifetimes<br />Uncatalogued triumphs &amp; crimes<br />I don't come to you in love or hate or friendship or vengeance<br />Did I drown vainly expecting rescue<br /><br />I could bite these fingers off<br />I could devour your body<br />You pass w/in you mix you bleed<br />You merge your blood in my blood<br />Wine swirls into the water clear &amp; clean<br />Seawater tides &amp; Mother Moon night<br />These eyes pull down stellar membranes<br />A cool spread to submerge these cruel contemplations<br />These stinking organic molecules<br />This bilious eruption this disgorged effluvial suspension<br />This bitter chalice of lymph I'm forever quaffing<br />These hours like wayward olives<br />Plucked out green eyes rolling<br />These people &amp; their brutish telephones<br />This asphalt these aching bones<br />This gridlock of reverence these dry wildflowers<br />The sputtering engine the billowing carbon dioxide<br />Greenhouse gasses<br />Concealing sun glasses<br />Primitive masks &amp; icons &amp; walls &amp; artifice<br /><br />If I could crack open your skull<br />If I could hack off your limbs<br />If I could set these palm trees ablaze<br />Screaming torches against the nightmare<br />And ignite these vulgar cities<br />Then you could name me basilisk<br />So that I'd fit in your jigsaw puzzle<br />The picture could paint itself for you of<br />The righteousness of God<br />If I could poison your wells<br />And contaminate your crops<br />How is it we can go on being shocked by the<br />Fragility of flesh<br /><br />I'm sick I'm sick<br />I'm dying<br />Dissolving slowly in acid<br />Drip by drip<br />Somebody get me a goddess quick who<br />Weeps for humanity<br /><br />I wish that I could purge myself of<br />The indexed evils of men<br />A black &amp; tarry liquid substance would pass<br />Forever from these lips<br />Smells of bile &amp; napalm &amp; clamorous pleas of captured soldiers<br />Their nights become photographic negatives<br />Their eyelids snipped precisely away reveal<br />Pale &amp; wet inside clam shell<br />Trembles &amp; softly throbbing<br /><br />To sleep the deep sleep of whales<br />Of what do whales dream?<br /><br />I don't mind dangling in this razor wire<br />I don't mind the blood &amp; pain<br />I recollect the pyramids &amp; the paintings of<br />The torments of the saints &amp; the golden light<br />Bizarre chimeras, winged fiends<br />The serpents &amp; the smoke that boil up from the pit<br /><br />Oh:<br /><br />I swam in your eyes<br />My nerves synapsed w/yours<br />I remember distinctly your cells, your smells<br />I remember the secret kingdom<br />We required no wedding bells<br />Now I am an erased word<br />Now I am a voice emanating from rusted bicycle chain<br />I am ice tumbling down thru space &amp;<br />I am these trees<br />I am concrete<br />I am these sparrows so briefly to fly<br />Bubbles in a marshy swamp<br />I am you<br />I am you<br /><br />Timeless tales of Aesop<br />Too complicated for you to get your arms around<br />Everything is wiped out<br />Living on borrowed time<br />We open pages between protons<br />Firebomb soft civilian targets<br />We eat ourselves<br />Cannibals &amp; lechers<br />All the edges are grown too straight<br />The corners are too sharp<br />Am I seeing it too clearly<br />Should my vision be more bleary<br />Too much UV protection<br />Should I take pills for correction<br /><br />Patience<br />Forgiveness<br />Respect<br /><br />I'm weak I'm sick<br />I haven't eaten in days<br />The Book of Proverbs sounds like a commercial<br />Give me Ecclesiastics any day<br />My mitochondria are stressing<br />I imagine free radicals punching holes<br />W/in my churning liver<br />Mix spit w/dirt &amp; make a man<br />Or clay &amp; dragon blood<br />I'm protracted thru infinity<br />Spread flat across a neutron star<br />Radio chatter lost beyond the galactic edge<br />I'm a panting fish dying in a frightened child's hand<br />Inches from the edge of land<br />I'm a premie w/internal organs twisted under God's screwdriver<br />I'm an obsolete motherboard<br /><br />Streaks of light<br />Ribbons of light<br />Swarms of embers glimmering<br />Pattern against the murkiness<br />Hope against the soullessness<br />Holiness holiness or just<br />The night-bombing of Hamburg<br /><br />If I could be floating like a flag<br />Like a pennant high above the ground<br />Against a blue summer sky<br />If I could hear the playground sounds<br />Chains of swings rhythmic creaking<br />Oh least common of all denominators<br />How do I abhor thee?<br />Let me count the ways<br /><br />Am I splitting under pressure<br />Closing in on nirvana<br />Am I dying w/o a witness<br />Am I striving for forgiveness<br />Am I riding on a fast train<br />As I spiral out of my brain<br /><br />Useless death, unnecessary suffering<br />Human weakness of mind &amp; heart<br />Making the monumental reach for<br />The too mundane<br />We build a broken monster<br />Too flawed to take a step<br />&amp; justify short-sightedness<br />In columns of profits &amp; loss<br /><br />Brave barrel-chested soldier<br />Air &amp; bone behind your eyeglasses<br />Pretty girl w/tired child<br />Tugging your hand homeward<br />Security guards roaming the halls<br />Vigilant for the next offender<br />Forgotten plant w/curled leaves<br />Silent witness of barren commerce<br /><br />I've grown new eyes<br />I've grown new ears<br />In this hypervision<br />Everything comes on a bit too clear<br />I could rip out your heart &amp; lungs now<br />Wouldn't mean a thing<br />You see, you can't really kill anything<br /><br />All this sweat all this mud<br />All this semen all this blood<br />Just regard this creature you've created<br />&amp; you w/o a clue<br />I'm a smoky cauldron<br />I'm the witch's brew<br />I want to spit<br />I want to \\\\<br />I want to \\\\<br />I want to \\\\ you out of the world<br />I want to reconstruct the fabric of time until<br />You never were<br /><br />The gods are athirst<br />W/craving for blood<br />The soil cries out for a new dialectic<br />Of human grandeur &amp; misery<br /><br />You are diamonds you are jewels<br />You are sap in amazon vine<br />You are leeches you are citrus<br />You are radiator steam thrashing from a car crash<br />You are diaper rash<br />You are well-circulated hard cash<br />You are the sun &amp; you are the moon<br />You are my true love<br />You are a sand dune<br />Here one day gone the next<br />Your face in perpetual motion<br />Blowing away from rills in single grains<br />Against luxurious skies<br />I swam in your veins<br />I walked in your poor muscles<br />I rolled around in your belly<br />I flew w/your wings<br />I laid slain pheasants before you<br />I licked your wounds &amp;<br />I washed your feet<br />I celebrated you in victory<br />I splinter in your defeat<br /><br />One soul one soul<br /><br />We can't see far enough in time &amp; place<br />Prisoners of chemical syllogism<br />Baubles of biology<br />Jerked like marionettes<br />Creating fictions of loyalty<br />A flexible system of mutual fealty<br />As we bubble &amp; hiss in the pot<br />Collisions of vegetable &amp; meat<br />Under amorally expressionless celestial canopy<br /><br />We're one thing<br />You try so hard to differentiate<br />Pick apart the good &amp; bad<br />To recapture a moment that we had<br />But that corpse is rotten<br />Don't tell me I've forgotten how it used to be<br />You can't distinguish health from ill<br />Secure in the faith that the time that you kill<br />Does no injury to eternity<br /><br />Only dry sticks rattle inside my chest<br />Now grown eternal as stone<br />You may find me still sitting on this bench<br />A couple billion years from now<br />These brains &amp; minds &amp; souls bend symbols<br />Into origami simple physical laws prohibit<br />Justice is a happy pastime between wars<br />When hard truth reasserts its dominion<br />Crimes must be punished not to advance probity<br />But only to maintain law one more day<br />You were a fool when you broke the rule<br />&amp; now it's time for you to pay<br /><br />&amp; I am this bush<br />&amp; I am this tree<br />&amp; I am this throne<br />I am the blue sea<br />I am the mountain<br />I am the fire<br />I am the breeze that can<br />Carry you higher<br />I am creation<br />I am destruction<br />I am the bandage<br />I am the truncheon<br />I'm lost in the sky<br />Am I under the chair<br />Am I woven thru the bristles when<br />You brush your hair<br />I am the song that you'll never forget<br />I am the nagging doubt when you bite your lip<br />I am the insect<br />I am the groan<br />I am the dynamite<br />I am the bank loan<br />I am a miser<br />I am much wiser<br />Than you'll ever be<br />I am the pine tree<br />The red wine that used to be<br />The air in the tire<br />The fork &amp; the knife<br />The hunger that engulfs you<br />&amp; chews your life<br />I am the crunch of the boot in the sand<br />I am the truth that you can't stand<br />I am broken<br />I am exploded<br />I am the living dead<br />I am the blinding aftershock<br />That shines on in your head<br />I am the moon<br />I am the sun<br />I am the stars<br />I am the one<br />I love you so<br />I love you so<br />I'm a bomb<br />I'm exploding<br />I'm poisoned<br />I'm expired<br />If I had a bitch-shaped knife<br />I'd cut you out of my chest<br /><br />I don't know what I'll become<br />Now I am nothing<br />Just a vapor<br />Maybe some salt<br />Even I don't feel me here<br />I return to the holy place<br />I am amazed again that you can't tell you perished<br />Pools &amp; fountains in the desert<br />I must arrange a ceremony<br />Suitable for your remembrance<br />In this holy place holy place<br />May God restore my soul<br />I rock back &amp; forth<br />Back &amp; forth<br />My memories are excessive<br />Exquisite<br />Recollections of velvet lips &amp; whispers - do not put to voice our secret<br />We transcended time &amp; space<br />&amp; this place is now become a shrine<br />Don't speak it aloud<br /><br />False vacuum undulates pregnant w/potentialities<br />Brings forth the particle zoo<br />&amp; all the fractals one physics can muster<br />Leaves us dangling under heroic star cluster<br />There'll be no duplicity in these querulous times<br />You can deny complicity or confess your crimes<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Freeze</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />There's no use to say a word<br />All the best lines have been spoken<br />There's no sense to shake my hand<br />All the promises are broken<br />You stripped away all innocence<br />In vain I pursued a truce you could support<br />On my knees I begged your grace &amp; mercy<br />You remarked how the days were growing short<br /><br />Listen to the barn owl screech<br />Listen to the hell hounds bay<br />Did I deface your divine mind?<br />Did you have to have it all your way?<br />I'm standing in a damaged doorway<br />In the staleness of minutes faithfully accruing<br />Wondering what's become of the one I love<br />Wondering what the hell I'm doing<br /><br />I'm waiting thru the darkness<br />In a freeze that won't lift<br />I never felt the Earth stop turning<br />I never noticed the wind shift<br />You never saw how the angels adorn<br />The spaces surrounding the pledges you neglect<br />You grapple in a world I'll always scorn<br />I reside in a world you'll never suspect<br /><br />So I'm stepping out into the street<br />The door behind me closing<br />The city's full of secrets<br />The good girls are all dozing<br />The stars above are blazing<br />I feel the collapse of distance<br />I blink &amp; draw new breath<br />Feel like I might wink out of existence<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Colossus</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Global pulsations silent as space<br />Unborn jungle barbarous garden at dawn<br />The savages creep thru mists &amp; steam<br />Tumbled stone temples half-devoured in vine<br />Hot rain falls upward bubbles sputter in muck<br />Smell of musky cat breath<br />Rancid meat growing green<br /><br />Satisfying slam of ATV door<br />The click of the button<br />The squeal of what's unreal<br />Small minds flashing down telephone lines<br />Too much unformation too much null-data<br />False opinion disintegration<br />No human relation no vital connection<br />No direction no polar star<br />The punk picks up electric guitar<br />Cyclone of sitar<br />Finger cymbals chime like divine rain<br />We merge into space feel self erase<br />Jigsaw lives snap into place<br />Where is the grace at the end of the chase<br /><br />Tripping thru trip wires<br />Holy commerce beneath steeples &amp; spires<br />Of corporate megalopolis<br />Insatiable colossus<br />The screams of jet fighters<br />Misconceived precepts destroyed<br />Their payloads deployed<br /><br />The two tribes engage<br />Caked mud on glass faces<br />Machetes &amp; spears &amp; napalm &amp; beer cans<br />Arrows shredding blue suits as administrators attack<br />While blasting old Rolling Stone rock'n'roll soundtrack<br />Broken teeth strung on necklaces<br />Under banana palm hats<br />W/psychedelic scrawled prospectus &amp; psychoactive blood additives<br />&amp; Picasso oil swirls upon black waters<br />&amp; Dali flames leaping upon high seas<br />Indicator species burn out, extinguished<br />Infirm cold warrior's grip grudgingly relinquished<br />The future on steel knife edge<br />The night's ledge, the white man's pledge<br />To defend the indefensible<br />To embrace the reprehensible<br />To put out one's own eyes<br />To great lies &amp; series of small compromises<br />To merge w/the surge in stock market purge<br />To submerge in the gene pool<br />Where the ultimate self-interests rule<br />To liquefy one's competitors<br />Ripping atoms from atoms<br />Baryons from baryons<br />To disfigure spacetime<br />To break symmetry<br /><br />Global pulsations silent in space<br />Frozen fire in fractured gemstone<br />The blood &amp; the mud &amp; death comes in the evening<br />Stretching of membranes, retching in cold chains<br />He's gone insane he's a saint he's a holy man<br />Seer of visions<br />Conjurer of conditions<br />Suffering premonitions of what is &amp; what's been<br />His circuits are glowing<br />Sphere of influence growing<br />His nakedness showing<br />He's a logic bomb or a Christ<br />He's on the big stage<br />He's a mouse in a sterile cage<br />His cerebellum exposed in operating theater<br />He's coming undone under microscopic inspection<br />He escapes no detection<br />Files no defense for protection<br />He's dismembered in the Kleig lights<br />He's a hero tonight &amp; he'll be reassembled<br />His scattered pixels rekindled<br />To emerge in new consciousness<br />To be reborn<br />His senses reactivated<br />His slandered name rejuvenated<br />Washed in sacred wine &amp; re-consecrated<br />On the bloody alter of Man<br />For he is the sacrifice<br />He's the lamb of salvation<br />His heart plucked from snowy breast<br />So the rest of us can rest<br />&amp; sink w/in troubled distant dreams of<br />Some ancient garden<br />Where the lion's powerful claws rake the unicorn<br />&amp; the savage angel bearing a flaming sword<br />Harvests the fruits of Heaven's labors<br />At play in the fields of the Lord<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Man of Two Worlds</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />When you're waging war on multiple fronts<br />When you're facing too many mountains that you've got to climb<br />Like doing too many jigsaw puzzles the same time<br />Do you feel regret for unwise choices, or<br />Do you catch yourself listening for unspoken voices?<br />Because I keep hearing murmurs<br />In the long night of the soul.<br />&amp; I keep sensing that this life's not whole.<br />I know I'm living in two worlds, each w/its own law:<br />One world of conflict, one world of awe.<br /><br />I know a woman who catches her thoughts sliding<br />Down facile channels she'd never have selected.<br />She could have chosen differently but that decision she neglected.<br />She said: "I'm ensnared in a complex network of phony expectations<br />That hang together in precarious balance &amp; force me into compromising situations"<br />&amp; I keep hearing whispers<br />In the long night of the soul.<br />&amp; I keep sensing that this life's not whole.<br />I know I'm living in two worlds, each w/its own law:<br />One world of conflict, one world of awe.<br /><br />I know a man whose focus grew ever sharper.<br />He forgot his heart in the struggle &amp; the strife<br />&amp; came home late one evening to discover he'd misplaced his wife.<br />He said: "The enemy is subtle &amp; judgment is swift.<br />In the violence of the tempest don't disregard the delicate drift"<br />&amp; I keep hearing utterances<br />In the long night of the soul.<br />&amp; I keep sensing that this life's not whole.<br />I know I'm living in two worlds, each w/its own law:<br />One world of conflict, one world of awe.<br /><br />How do you reconcile opposites &amp; make uneven ends meet?<br />How do you choose between the temporal &amp; the divine?<br />I feel the flaming sword at my back &amp; I'm walking on a line.<br />This familiar world of the senses is a symbolic approximation,<br />&amp; this world of whispered voices is much more than simulation.<br />Because I keep hearing voices<br />In the long night of the soul.<br />&amp; it's clear this life's not whole.<br />I've got my feet in both worlds, each w/its own law:<br />One world of conflict, one world of awe.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Shield</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Dissolving back into the mind of God,<br />Whispers &amp; rumors &amp; conflict divide us from the infinity of infinitudes. We were<br />Wild animals in the forest clearing, exposed<br />In the miracle times before the world was yet full-made,<br />Innocent yet of the hunger for domination,<br />The insatiability of elegant cannibals.<br /><br />Tides of dissonance tore the shore,<br />Retreated from the Moon's pull to call up reserves &amp;<br />Come back us for more.<br /><br />When iniquity gently beckons<br />When dim foreboding looms<br />When the bitter rose of my darkness blooms<br />When the sweet promise of refuge<br />Is ensconced in temptation's amicable cloak<br />&amp; the winners can afford to cut their losses<br />While the despondent losers go for broke<br />I raise you up to be my shield<br />I turn to you to be healed<br />I turn to you<br /><br />When earthquakes turn beneath my feet<br />&amp; shattered glass rains down<br />When our murdered king's corpse is discovered<br />Bereft of bejeweled crown<br />When our trustees turn to base idolatry<br />&amp; our wine turns to mud<br />&amp; mortal vows that I have pledged<br />Burn like poison in my blood<br />I raise you up to be my shield<br />I sense the deep earth power you wield<br />I turn to you<br /><br />To you I turn in my time of terror<br />To you I turn when my allies flee<br />To you I turn when each alternative is an error<br />To my undying wonder you turn to me<br /><br />When thunder resounds w/in my chest<br />When ears bleed from piercing battle horns<br />When I can't recall how I acquired this shirt of claws &amp; thorns<br />Between my thoughts of resignation<br />&amp; the questing eyes of haggard death<br />Amidst the snare beat of a desperate heart<br />&amp; the fading of frail exhausted breath<br />I raise you up to be my shield<br />My oath is given, my fate is sealed<br />I turn to you<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Seed Man</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />She thinks I wanna be her<br />seed man<br />She thinks I wanna hear her<br />new plan<br />She thinks I'll never understand her<br />color scheme<br />She thinks I don't care about her<br />girl dream<br />But I never signed on to be just a<br />seed man<br />I'm looking 'cross the river to a<br />new land<br /><br />She thinks I gotta head wound, became her<br />enemy<br />She thinks I poisoned her wells &amp; caused all her<br />misery<br />She's confounded by her mystery so she's gonna<br />end it<br />She's got her off-shore account, by God she's gonna<br />spend it<br />But I never signed on to be just a<br />seed man<br />I'm looking 'cross the river to a<br />new land<br /><br />Someday maybe when these towers blow to dust<br />Sir Lancelot will slay her dragons, give her someone she can trust<br />Yeah, when champagne flows in rivers &amp; all her fireworks bust<br />Someday maybe when this circle starts to rust<br /><br />She thinks I wanna break her<br />adamantine heart<br />She thinks I want the Rolls, leave her the<br />golf cart<br />She thinks I'm too dumb to see she'll author our<br />history<br />She'll never know she'll always be the same lost<br />girl to me<br />&amp; I never signed on to be just her<br />seed man<br />I'm gonna cross the river &amp; enter that<br />new land<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Wish on a Star</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Wind blowin' out thru my eyes<br />Sentence fragments trip out past my teeth<br />Maybe I'm a spectator outside of time<br />Looking back at someone who looked a lot like me<br />Looking back thru the rain &amp; hail<br />The fire &amp; smoke<br />I hear myself laughing but<br />I don't get the joke<br /><br />I guess I loved you way too much<br />I guess I had too much trust<br />Now I wish I could hate you<br />How I wish I could hate you<br /><br />You know we had completeness<br />You know we owned the world<br />You know we walked fearlessly as one<br />With the banner of our love unfurled<br />&amp; you know you somehow went astray<br />&amp; demanded to be worshipped like God<br />You know you killed our perfect love<br />You know you killed our love<br /><br />I guess I loved you way too much<br />I guess I had too much trust<br />Now I wish I could hate you<br />How I wish I could hate you<br /><br />I'm hangin' out on the borderline<br />Watching for a chance to make my break<br />The sun keeps rising earlier but<br />Every day it seems too late<br />Looking ahead I see fog &amp; mist<br />Fog &amp; mist<br />I hear people laughing but<br />I don't know what I missed<br /><br />I guess I loved you way too much<br />I guess I had too much trust<br />Now I wish I could hate you<br />How I wish I could hate you<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Lord of Hosts</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />"Vengeance is mine," sayeth the LORD<br />"Cross me sucker &amp; you'll die by the sword<br />Keep my commandments, submit &amp; obey<br />Deny your free will &amp; do it my way<br />Keep the formation, stay in your place<br />I made you to suffer in an insufferable place<br />To chase low desire in a hellish rat race<br />Lust &amp; greed &amp; jealousy your goals<br />Under my whip running over sulfurous coals<br />I bring disaster &amp; pestilence to your town<br />Give me your most pious man, I'll hammer him down<br />I'll slay your poor babies in a bloody dawn<br />I'll massacre the innocents, every last Jew will be gone<br />'Til you shake your fists Heaven demanding:<br />'Whose side are you on'<br />But vengeance is mine," sayeth the LORD<br />"Cross me sucker &amp; you'll die by the sword."<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Road Work Ahead</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />It's unclear to me just how I'll ever lose these disintegration blues.<br />Feels like a funeral but no one died, like the thought police are marching &amp; there's no place to hide.<br />She plowed up my pride, left me for dead by the highway side,<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br /><br />She played her cards, I called her bluff. Looks like you're never tough enough.<br />This black coffee'll shock these cells to life. The birds still sing. Did I dream that life?<br />Little toys, little clothes, little shoes with little bows,<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br /><br />I could slam myself against an Alaskan mountain range or swim down in deep ocean 'til my senses rearrange.<br />From your perspective you'd think I'm not coping, but I've seen better times &amp; places for hoping.<br />My friends tell me that now's the time to pray,<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br /><br />&amp; I don't mind the free advice, I smile &amp; say: "You're very nice"<br />Maybe there's something broken in every soul, just a little tic we can't control.<br />Is that why I worked so hard building up the soil under this green back yard?<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br /><br />No more gunfights boys, won't quarrel or shout. The sun hangs low &amp; I'm heading out.<br />You can count on me, my compass points true. Get beyond these ripples in reality, I'll break on through.<br />Watch for falling rocks. Beware of dangerous curves.<br />Tell Rose I hope she never gets what she deserves.<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br />Ooh, road work ahead.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Breath of the World</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Is it broken coils in staircase DNA?<br />Is it complementary circuitry w/in the skull?<br />Is it scents &amp; colors that spin &amp; hypnotize?<br />Is it bits of syllables uttered in a critical moment?<br />Is it the pull of planets?<br />The seed of cancer w/in the fetus?<br />The shell of skin we cannot slip?<br />The smooth molding of fat?<br />The puckering lip?<br />The fascination w/fleeting ecstasies in a corporeal world?<br />The song of the siren? The scream of the gene?<br />The curl of hair? The curve of an ear?<br /><br />Pink voices the color between channels<br />Tinged w/fetal blood &amp;<br />"Sick in revolutionary dreams," Jane says<br />Just before she buttons open my eyelids &amp; smiles<br />Mocking faintly. I smell<br />Rancid ichor of old volcanoes<br />Unpleasantly out-gassing<br />This earth is slipping &amp; maybe we will<br />Just plunge into the cracks between<br />Dried out atoms<br /><br />Crackling inside abolished traditions<br />Defiled aesthetics &amp; cultural forms<br />Where we unscrew skullcap &amp; unsnap brains<br />Can we get out from under these heavy shadows where<br />Unvoiced tongues flop like fish on hot concrete<br />To transmit our names in piscine language<br />Most mysterious. Yes,<br />All facts are melted &amp; we<br />Go &amp; come living such lives as we dare, but<br />In reverse order now, or caught between<br />Two crashing cars. We are<br />Positrons, mere electrons moving<br />Backwards in time. We are<br />Fauns &amp; freaks<br />Pawns &amp; geeks &amp;<br />Our king is slain<br />His corpse out in the rain<br />Decaying<br /><br />Is it that nameless emotion<br />Is it hot hormonal acid poured<br />Thru pre-adolescent neural circuitry<br />It must be<br />Our lady of the oroborous<br />Suck your tail<br />History has retreated into its womb<br />West &amp; east are fused w/in<br />Singularity. Films of cold war<br />Alongside fractals &amp; star wars<br />The past is more alive now than<br />When it was the present<br />The future is yesterday<br /><br />Who will be my guardian &amp; guide<br />Who will be my shield<br />Alone walk I w/in the night of the soul<br />Immersed w/in familiar space that<br />Instantly explodes, all my senses are deformed extended<br />Changed beyond what ever they were<br /><br />&amp; submerged into swirling vortex<br />Aural phantasms pronounced, fully saturated w/in<br />Strange noises, sights, &amp; sensations<br />The eyelid movies<br />This was not what I expected<br />This was certainly more than what I knew<br />I pursued wisdom down a twisting ever-shifting corridor<br />Lined w/colored steel mutating<br />In tempestuous tints<br />Metallic &amp; immaculate<br />I existed<br />I the lucid neon dream<br /><br />Standing 2-d cut out of this world<br />Seeking a truer vision that holds<br />Beyond the chemistry<br />A porcelain place beyond this space<br />Trans-dimensional solidity of the graal<br />Promiscuous atoms sharing photons<br />I seek the firmament<br />Hardwire adhesion w/pulsing mind of God<br />I am unhooked from this corporeality<br />I tell these things to Jane who smiles<br />Mischievous but understanding<br />We race down pipelines the straits can't smell<br />We attach we attain Frida's<br />Siamese heart<br />We share seed we share blood<br />We bleed concurrently w/a talking plant that opens<br />Billions of tiny mouths to exhale &amp; transpire<br />For we are the breath of the world<br />Spines in our hands<br />Thorns thru our tongues<br />We are the breath of the world<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Mending</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The rose grows from the bruise in the brain<br />The pain paints its stains on the moon<br />&amp; your eyes glitter like diamond skies<br />As the night turns over blue arctic ice<br /><br />So I see you can't quite make the connection<br />Don't let this free ride get in your obstacles' way<br />You &amp; I might spin apart in violent motions<br />Or pass like silent ships steaming over lonely oceans<br /><br />Used to be all these people wore simpler faces<br />&amp; shared a common basis for their stories &amp; their songs<br />Up to me, I would fling open all these cages<br />Down the corridors &amp; ages, you could all come along<br /><br />Black crows croak in the wheat in my dreams<br />The seams of scenes splitting &amp; then they fray<br />&amp; your face hangs suspended in space<br />Translucent image, I long to embrace you<br /><br />Time is bending &amp; you could use some mending<br />&amp; I'm not pretending, I know I need mending too<br />So I'm sending you this invitation to another situation<br />We could start a brand new nation that's big enough for two<br /><br />The rose grows from the bruise in the brain<br />The pain paints its stains on the moon<br />&amp; your eyes glitter like diamond skies<br />As the night turns over blue arctic ice<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Darkness &amp; the Light</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I scaled the highest pinnacle, the cold winds snapping at my robe<br />I saw the serpent's savage jaw unhinge to swallow the globe<br />His long tongue was a scythe harvesting vast fields of stars<br />I heard the drums of war thundering &amp; desperate alarms<br /><br />The vomit of the dragon was impenetrable, it assaulted my sight,<br />Snuffing out the day &amp; obliterating night<br />This darkness poured over my vision, blotting all like blackest ink,<br />Clotting in the narrow spaces you'd never expect it to be<br /><br />Now I've seen history churning, turning out hopelessness &amp; despair<br />I search every crime scene for evidence but discover mere confusion everywhere<br />I dwell in an unusual present when time cannot fail to bend,<br />Accosted by a species of illusion that you might not comprehend<br /><br />But I want to come out of the darkness<br />Back to the land of confidence &amp; sight<br />I want to make it out of this darkness<br />Find my way back to your bright light<br /><br />There is a soulless void beckoning, a vortex that's consumed a multitude<br />You must face it naked &amp; weaponless, armed only w/raw fortitude<br />The temptations to secede one's humanity are legion &amp; false goals come fast as exhalations<br />So keep your head in the whirling maelstrom &amp; rein in delusional expectations<br /><br />A light is shining in the darkness, a warm, suffusing glow<br />You'll recognize it in the good men do, you'll feel its confident flow<br />The demons of time are powerless before the dancing flame<br />So build your house to let the light in &amp; exalt God's name<br /><br />Now you have delivered me out of the darkness<br />Back into the land of consequence &amp; delight<br />Yes, I have made it out of the darkness<br />&amp; now I grow strong in your bright light<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Ooh-Ee Blues</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Hear that lonesome train whistle blowin' thru the rain<br />Smell Katie's coffee burnin' on the stove just like she always burns it up for me<br />Feel the poison spread like oil across my brain<br />Betcha I'm gonna kill this pain, ooh-ee<br /><br />When I was down in Texas how the hot wind used to blow<br />When I was up in Michigan, just grim-faced strangers &amp; stingin' snow<br />When I was out on Riker's, had pals most fearsome &amp; unruly<br />Now I'm captive to Katie's sweet charms, ooh-ee<br /><br />Devil's got his devilish pitchfork<br />President's fingerin' the pulse of global history<br />Katie's gotta whisper today's neighborhood gossip to me<br />I gotta new box of shells &amp; salt for salt, ooh-ee<br /><br />I got them ooh-ee blues mama, got no peace<br />I got them mean ooh-ee blues mama, I ain't got no peace<br />Give you sugar for sugar mama, make this misery cease<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Coral</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />We extend our arms<br />We stretch thru space &amp; time<br />One thing we shimmer<br />The sinner &amp; the saint somehow<br />No matter now<br />&amp; conversations like this one<br /><br />Armies turn into white blood cells rushing to site of infection<br />Or a tumor The ocean prevails<br />Reduces human intercourse to trifling<br />All this human drama stuff<br />All elements of colony organism<br />Awaken sense of reciprocity between all constituents w/in the corpus<br />Shock to perception: wake<br />We always were are will be<br />Endpoints on secret network<br /><br />&amp; somewhere in it all<br />&amp; over long decades the individual must dissolve<br />&amp; humanity culminate in transcendent fire<br />Unrelated to patriotism or nations<br />Spitting white noise at neural synapse<br />Violence in conversation as if<br />We see the whole world all wrong like we<br />Wear insipid blinders we can't discern &amp;<br />We've just got the whole story in paradoxical inversion<br />&amp; inferentially it doesn't matter which side wins<br />For the cadence of the slowly throbbing beast<br />Sustains its protoplasmic extensions thru pink time<br /><br />A genetic thing if you can't connect<br />An analytical engine can't perform beyond its hardware but<br />This undulating creature that fluctuates thru time<br />All time past &amp; future IS<br />We swim thru the ocean but<br />The organism is itself precious<br />Not the cells<br />Saturated in all this history neurons<br />Sizzle in hot &amp; greasy hours of<br />WWII documentaries &amp; WWI<br />You think of the species as vast colony organism<br />Splayed out thru time<br />Or like a coral<br />Just a longer point of view there are<br /><br />Much deeper currents underlying the whole shebang that<br />One colossal organism<br />All one thing<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Re-Entry</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><i>Voice #1: "Hey, I just wanna say that you guys have done some real fine work"<br />CapCom: "Well. . . .We've had a good time doing it"<br />Voice #1: "You have a good bedside manner"<br />CapCom: "Gee. . . .That's the nicest thing anybody ever said to me. . . .Okay. LOS in 60 seconds entry attitude. . . .We'd like omni Charlie &amp; welcome home"<br />Voice #1: "Thank you."</i><br /><br />Been rising much too fast thru a deep<br />Column of water<br />Nitrogen boils up, bubbles up thru<br />Clots in my veins<br />Now I can't see straight, can't think straight<br />Can't tell truth from lying, lying<br />Can you give me comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br />Been so deep down in the darkness, madness<br />Never noticed the oppressive insanity<br />Been standing so far outside my skull<br />Funny how it never even dawned on me<br />Now I can't see straight, can't think straight<br />Can't tell which way the wind is blowing, blowing<br />Can you give me comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br />I can't think, I can't sleep<br />All these thoughts collide inside my head<br />I can't eat, I can't drink<br />Drink in every poisoned word she said<br />I come down crashing, crashing<br />Smashing in slow motion, can I<br />Crash softly into you, cos<br />I can't see straight, can't think straight<br />Can't depend on my own humanity<br />Can you give me comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br />The ice man cometh cometh<br />The ice man cometh cometh coming down<br />The ice man cometh the ice man cometh<br />Feel the ice thaw dripping all around<br /><br /><i>JSC PAO: "The spacecraft should be out of blackout this time. We are standing-by for any reports of ARIA acquisition, the C-135 type aircraft"<br />Flight: static hiss<br />Network: "Not this time, Flight"<br />JSC PAO: "Coming up now on three minutes until drogue deployment. Standing-by for any reports of acquisition. . . "<br />CapCom: "Houston standing by. Over. . . ."</i><br /><br />Seen too many clowns bearing balloon bouquets<br />Marching in the funeral parades<br />Dreaming of octopus wrapped around my head<br />Desperate flailing, beak snapping my eyes<br />"I'm hit! I'm hit!" the pilot shouts<br />Painting the sky in billowing shades of gray<br />Now I can't see straight, can't think straight<br />Can't think straight, can't think, can't speak<br />Can't tell if I'm living, dying, am I still trying<br />Can you give me comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br />I come crashing down, crashing down<br />Falling satellite, jet plane screwing down the skylanes<br />I come falling down, tumbling down<br />Broken pieces of sun &amp; rain surround me<br />Thru the noise &amp; thru the heat<br />Rattling down &amp; crashing down the stairs<br />My bones are breaking the air is shaking<br />The clock is taking too long between ticks<br />Now I can't feel the world I used to feel<br />Don't know am I freezing or burning up, burning up<br />Can you give me some comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br /><i>Network: "ARIA 4 is AOS, Flight"<br />JSC PAO: "Got a report that ARIA 4 aircraft has acquisition of signal."</i><br /><br />I've been broken up &amp; battered, battered<br />Shattered in the hurricane<br />Can't hear my own shouts over the wind<br />My flesh is in ribbons &amp; I can't recall my own name<br />Too much darkness, too much darkness<br />Too much doom, too much despair<br />Bring some light in, let some light in<br />Find a way out of here, cos<br />I can't think straight, I can't see straight<br />Am I arriving or departing<br />Can you give me comfort, shelter<br />Can I float w/you a while<br /><br /><i>Voice #1: garbled<br />CapCom: "Roger that"<br />JSC PAO: "Report of two good drogues. Coming up now on main chutes. . . .Standing by for confirmation of main chutes deploy"<br />CapCom: "We show you on the mains. It really looks great"<br />JSC PAO: "Extremely loud applause as main chutes come through loud &amp; clear on the television display here"<br />Recovery: "This is Recovery. Over"<br />JSC PAO: "We have a report from Recovery that has the craft a distance of four miles from the ship. The smoke you see is venting of reaction control system propellants"<br />Voice #1: "Coming through five-thousand"<br />Recovery: "Wonderful. This is Recovery &amp; your chutes look good. . . .This is Recovery, we observe your RCS burn. Over"<br />JSC PAO: "As you heard the conversation between the Recovery helicopter and the crew of the spacecraft. . . .The floor of the mission operations control room now crowded . . .We have reports that the spacecraft is descending at a point four miles due south of the ship"<br />Recovery: "Passing through one-thousand feet. . . .Coming through five-hundred feet. . . .Splashdown!"</i><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Buddha</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 2000, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I.<br /><br />I have returned from an arduous journey on the heroes road,<br />My skin seared under ten thousand pitiless suns,<br />My vision pierced ten billion times by<br />Night's phalanxes of lance-bearers.<br />I have slept upon the sand-strewn crests of stainless white dunes<br />&amp; hacked a narrow path thru sickly miasmic jungles<br />Whose breath, still as a coffin &amp; choked w/moisture,<br />Floods the lungs &amp; crushes your diaphragm.<br />Eight miles high I glided on wings of hawks &amp; more,<br />Blood drying on my talons, clarity<br />Splashing across my eyes. I paused for purgation at the<br />Theatre of Cruelty. Then, to the floor of the sea,<br />I crawled upon my pale belly, a sightless worm<br />Intent upon the fumes of snowy detritus.<br /><br />II.<br /><br />I am the soldier returned late from the war<br />At the border towns where sleep gives way to the Abyss.<br />I am a messenger sent by the Gods, or the message itself.<br />I am the victim of plague, stolen too young from life.<br />I am the angler, playing out line,<br />&amp; the angry fish, weaving &amp; yearning to fly.<br />I am the politician w/baby-fleshed hands,<br />Isolated from the masses I'm sworn to protect.<br />I am the physician, the scalpel, the organ impassive, exposed.<br />I am the disk jockey &amp; the radio waves passing thru<br />Ragged atmospheres &amp; your unfeeling flesh, the voice of Babel,<br />The Voice of the Swarm. I am the weight the end of the<br />Sounding line, plumbing your shallow shoals. I have<br />Tumbled to this planet, I have melted from a comet,<br />By cosmic rays distilled. I am ink that recreates scripture.<br />I am the hurricane that engulfs the coastal city.<br />I am the purity of fire that expunges sumptuous falsehood.<br />I am the flash gushing from a sawed-off shotgun<br />Disclosing unnatural detail in a liquor store.<br />I am the taxi driver who cherishes his animosity<br />For his wealthy fares. I am a forgotten black &amp; white movie actor<br />Flaking apart in a forgotten tin.<br /><br />III.<br /><br />I am a starfish. I am a sea horse. I am a chaetognath.<br />I am a weed on the edge of the highway straining after diesel rigs.<br /><br />IV.<br /><br />I was an apple picker. I played<br />Drums in a sweaty Southern bar.<br />I was a starving sailor who feasted upon the forbidden flesh<br />Of the Cattle of the Sun. I have<br />Murdered the innocents w/the edges of words,<br />Have sacrificed a thousand of my lives to spare those<br />Of strangers &amp; other assorted fools.<br />I invested in rigged land schemes &amp; the fortunes of nations.<br />I turned to mysticism when corporate science failed me,<br />To politics when the markets blew up,<br />To ranching when the police located my residence.<br />I was a quail waiting in the cholla shadows.<br />I was a lizard on a baking brick wall.<br />I was a cougar slipping past a nylon tent<br />Under a crescent moon. I was a rioter in the<br />Hot summer night, smashing glass counters &amp;<br />Stealing cigarettes &amp; lunch meat. I was a trivial traitor<br />At Salerno during the Allied push. I was a<br />Draft dodger despised by my father<br />Until the death barges filled up the harbor.<br /><br />V.<br /><br />I was a part-time stripper whose tips kept her in college full-time.<br />I was a quarterback whose neck snapped on the ten yard line,<br />Who refused the wheelchair &amp; died of pneumonia at twenty-seven.<br />I was the congregation's favorite priest, secretly<br />Terrified of facing God. I was the<br />Girl on roller-skates taking chances, exchanging slow glances<br />W/presbyopic transients in front of their heroin dens.<br />I was the housewife in the 50's who never admitted<br />That her husband drank too much. I was out of touch<br />In the 60's w/a narrow tie &amp; flat top &amp; shaded eyes.<br />I stole Mona Lisa's smile, scoped out a monkey trial,<br />Floated opium down the Nile, went to Florida to try<br />Cross-dressing for a while. I clubbed a faggot's head open<br />In the Stonewall Riot. I added a cup of sugar to the tea in Boston Harbor.<br />I was a Black Panther. I was Ruby's cancer.<br />I was Oswald's twitchy trigger finger. I held the lantern<br />Steady for Clara Barton.<br /><br />VI.<br /><br />I am the labor-broken Mexican<br />Resentful of rapacious gringos. I listen<br />Under covers at night to the music of the Negroes.<br />I remain an unidentified corpse rotting in a Salvadoran dump.<br />I'm the secretary whose office shook<br />When the tornado came down across the street.<br />I'm the last fireman who died in the blast of<br />Hell's exhalation thru Chernobyl's roof. I'm the<br />Pet shop clerk who privately thought the activists had gone<br />A little bit too far. I'm from the Tibetan highlands where our<br />Children die w/o antibiotics.<br />I struggled reading Neruda &amp;<br />Switched to reading palms. I'm the<br />English rock star whose ironic lyrics shield me from self-loathing.<br />I'm the porn star too bored w/living to contemplate suicide.<br />I'm the circus barker whose only daughter ran away to join the Marines.<br />I'm a virus. I'm an ibis. I'm a bear wading in Alaskan streams.<br /><br />VII.<br /><br />I smelled the green hair tonic in a Mexican barber shop.<br />I prowled the streets of Prague at night just to test my luck.<br />I smelled the perfume you wear on my<br />Pillow in the morning. I heard the<br />Whistle of a distant train when the union busters struck,<br />Giving us no warning. I carved a sacred holy word into an<br />Intaglio stone. I checked into an asylum.<br />I emerged from a supermarket.<br />I swam next to you in the public pool.<br />I watched the mud blow over geyser vents.<br />I judged pathetic criminals in a petty town.<br />I drove International Harvester in the cotton fields.<br />I was a shipyard welder on the Baltic who<br />Fixed clocks on the side.<br /><br />VIII.<br /><br />I'm a nun resting at the Cafe du Monde, enjoying<br />Coffee &amp; bignettes. I'm a mime detained on<br />Trumped-up charges whose walls are closing in.<br />I'm a comic doing stand-up. I work the register.<br />I pump your gas. I lived to tell of Dien Bien Phu, but I<br />Never said a word. I own a shrimp boat.<br />I float a sampan. I lived in Tajikistan. I moved to Iran.<br />I won at Monte Carlo. I cheated on my husband.<br />I plundered your museums. I defiled your statuary.<br />I cry at sad movies. I shot cows w/BB's.<br /><br />IX.<br /><br />I'm a Korean in an LA market, iron over glass panes.<br />I'm a weight lifter on the beach checking out the tans.<br />I'm a diabetic couch potato watching church programs.<br />I'm a high school student in suburban Cleveland with<br />Fantasies of killing niggers. I'm a failed painter in Spain<br />Dying of TB. I'm a web page designer in Sacramento<br />W/no one to meet on Friday night. I'd like to embrace<br />Positivism, but I'm not really sure. I'm a closeted<br />Real estate executive just diagnosed w/AIDS.<br />I'm a commercial airline pilot tempted to buy a<br />Urine purifying agent. I'm a tobacco CEO<br />Persecuted by politicians. I'm a hit-&amp;-run victim being<br />Cut up for transplants. I'm a novice sky-diver shouting<br />Wildly in the air. I'm a hungry refugee,<br />Infected machete wounds in my legs.<br /><br />X.<br /><br />I came out of the dream cave, the vibrating world<br />Gaining on me in waves, strumming,<br />Thrumming like tightly-stretched steel guitar strings.<br />I wandered into the card game, the<br />Knight of Swords stole my name,<br />Took a seat on the cyclopean infinity train, my<br />Selves receded as swelling spheres in all directions &amp; times,<br />Molecules oscillate &amp; rotate,<br />Heat stretching bonds. I yawned &amp; I<br />Swallowed my head by accident. I was<br />Ray-traced &amp; erased from this place,<br />Replaced in V-space,<br />Pierced by the tester's shock waves.<br />In my chest a new atomic clock,<br />My eyes replaced by video sockets,<br />Adrenalin does not affect how fast the timer ticks.<br />My nerves are circuits,<br />My fingers rockets.<br />I am static across the channels, I am<br />Slackers in ripped flannels.<br />I'm re-examining the<br />Anti-mycobacterial properties of sulfones.<br />I'm in aerospace. I'm in optics &amp; genomics.<br />Between the sheets of your bed,<br />W/in fluid-filled chambers in your head,<br />Between your buttons,<br />Between the lines of your hypertext.<br />After the ball drops &amp; the blades above your necks,<br />Inside your wine bottles, inside your lungs &amp;<br />In your veins. I'm the throbbing chromosome<br />That whispers your symbolic name. I've<br />Traveled a billion light-years<br />W/in the flicker of a galaxy-spanning eye.<br />I ride electrons<br />Across the aurora-flaming sky.<br /><br />XI.<br /><br />I'm a Kenyan widow in a co-op<br />Avoiding my brother-in-law's devouring gaze.<br />I'm a holy martyr whose bomb killed a dozen dirty Jews.<br />I drove cattle across the dusty prickly pear desert.<br />I floated in the cream poured down by a voluptuous moon.<br />I drank in the shadows of small town bars. I inhabited a<br />Recurring vision that haunted Robert Falcon Scott. I<br />Drifted w/campfire smoke &amp; sparks into the wash of<br />Colored stars. I feasted with<br />Coyotes on the remains of the flock. I<br />Talked briefly w/Jesus when he was just a carpenter.<br />I was a medic in the gangrenous<br />Spanish Civil War.<br /><br />XII.<br /><br />I'm a deep-sleeping mole on ice<br />Awaiting the signal to work my sabotage.<br />I'm a hot-shot pilot on a secret mission<br />High in foreign skies. I'm a prankster in a<br />Prison of my own construction. I'm an<br />Architectural destruction specialist. I'm<br />Wearing a kerchief over my face as I<br />Hurry thru the trees of Katyn. I'm<br />Leaning over the peeling window sill<br />Counting loose change an ice cream stand.<br />I'm staring down the barrel of a 17 inch color monitor.<br />I've come unstapled on the active substances in a<br />Certain kind of cactus. I'm the cancer in your<br />Pancreas that will digest you to death.<br />I'm the reassuring male figure on channel 9 who<br />Makes you feel your world is safe. I'm an<br />Astronomer on a mountain top who nightly<br />Scrutinizes the face of God.<br /><br />XIII.<br /><br />I'm a thief.<br />I'm a cop.<br />I'm a breakman.<br />I'm a cook.<br />I'm a waiter.<br />I'm a wild cat.<br />I'm a vampire bat.<br />I'm a hermit crab.<br />I'm a secretary.<br />I'm the President.<br />I'm unemployed.<br />I'm a vet w/both my legs blown off.<br />I'm a right whale whistling across eternity.<br />I'm a racist.<br />I'm an Arab.<br />I'm a Nazi.<br />I'm a Jew.<br />I'm you.<br />I'm you.<br />I'm feeling like an exploding fire cracker.<br />I'm feeling a little blue.<br />I'm a pacifist.<br />I'm Vincent Van Gogh.<br />I'm Shirley Temple.<br />I'm Neil Armstrong poised above the surface of the Moon.<br />I'm Gerald Ford.<br />I'm Geronimo.<br />I once read a book about Georges Seurat, but I<br />Never got the point.<br />I'm Pancho Villa.<br />I'm Diana Ross.<br />I'm a washed-up rock'n'roller who<br />Can't bear the thought of stopping.<br />I'm the wizard Merlin.<br />I'm a bus driver.<br />I'm a bull fighter.<br />I'm a sky diver.<br />I'm a high-wire acrobat.<br />I can't talk w/you, &amp; you can't talk w/me.<br />Seems there's nothing you &amp; I can<br />Agree to disagree about.<br />But for these disappointments,<br />For all these fears &amp; cross-firing dreams &amp; schemes,<br />You &amp; I are just the same,<br />Just like the Buddha.<br />We are flowers unfolding, folding.<br />We are the skies re-sealed.<br />We are secrets hidden &amp; revealed.<br />We are seamless, continuous,<br />Now, forever: solitary, infinite.<br />We are one.<br /><br />XIV.<br /><br />I have returned from an arduous journey on the heroes road,<br />My skin seared under ten thousand pitiless suns,<br />My vision pierced ten billion times by<br />Night's phalanxes of lancet-bearers.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-5748939261548090758?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-6532476820425815692011-10-21T08:43:00.001-07:002011-10-21T08:50:42.516-07:00<i><b>Monkey's Paw</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />In a funny little building<br />In a boring satellite town<br />Three hundred little faces<br />Three hundred frightened frowns<br />Don't look them in the eye<br />It drives them over the edge<br />A sleepy day in suburbia<br />Humanity walks the ledge<br /><br />Did you bend some rules<br />Did you break some laws<br />Fire a daring shot in the name of the cause<br />After the smoke clears<br />And frozen time begins to thaw<br />You'll know me by the sign of the monkey's paw<br /><br />It's too late now to<br />Tally the score<br />The winners are too wealthy<br />The losers too poor<br /><br />They're fighting in the headlines<br />They're fighting in the pews<br />Every bigot smugly sold on his own<br />Indefensible views<br />Roller skating nuns with black mustaches<br />The Faerie Queene dispensing consecration<br />Could censorship sometimes be appropriate<br />Beware gray areas of insinuation<br /><br />All history's ruptured<br />Pulled free from the rivets<br />The revolution's in turmoil<br />The course reduced to divots<br />Were you dying to live<br />Or just living to die<br />What were you expecting to discover<br />Behind the sky<br /><br />Did you bend some rules<br />Did you break some laws<br />Fire a daring shot in the name of the cause<br />After the smoke clears<br />And frozen time begins to thaw<br />You'll know me by the sign of the monkey's paw<br /><br />The little folk are dying<br />Bleeding out, sneezing out the virus<br />You can see it in the curled fingers<br />And the paling of the iris<br />I think you'd better hear this, sir<br />Get the general on the phone<br />This looks like the big one, boys<br />Pack up your toys and run on home<br /><br />Did we take it too fast<br />Did we take it too far<br />Did we cast all our fortunes<br />On a wish on a star<br /><br />Maybe there's one great big soul<br />And human drama is just finesse<br />Don't we all know which way we ought to go<br />Can't we discriminate what's right from what's just business<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Dis-Integrate</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />If the volume remains fixed<br />As the number of particles increases<br />The pressure either rises<br />Or the temperature decreases<br />(The former seems more likely)<br />You'll learn it in your physics classes<br />The law of ideal gasses<br /><br />Phytoplankton are the sea's producers<br />Which the consumers devour in the flow and ebb<br />But no energy transfer is totally efficient<br />Which limits the expansion of the marine food web<br />You'll hear it in a biology lecture<br />Bioenergetics and ecosystem structure<br /><br />Medical miracles and modern technology<br />Can extend life expectancy beyond a century<br />And pesticide chemistry and crop rotation<br />Will feed every nation on earth today<br />(At least the ones that can afford to pay)<br />You'll hear the song sung in every land<br />Unless you venture outside the USA, western Europe, or Japan<br /><br />But when the last owl dies<br />When silt fouls the final fish's gills<br />You'll vacation near a panoramic strip mine vista<br />Sip carbonated beverages and pop syntho-protein pills<br />You'll taste it at the back of your tongue<br />Were your dividends sufficient when the corporations won?<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Golden Apple</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Too many self-aggrandized fools are preaching<br />From too many unholy texts<br />Too much greed, too little heed<br />Paid to the intricacies of global connection<br /><br />What violent considerations lurk<br />Behind gentle pale eyes<br />Then you raise the knife and smirk<br />And my strafers scratch the skies<br /><br />It's brotherly competition<br />Tooth and nail for the corporate scrip<br />Boot prints trample old lines in the sand<br />Stars are starting to slip<br />Out of their celestial tracks<br /><br />It's nighttime on the range<br />Dark cowboys armed with desperate intent<br />Appropriate the tactics of their long-hair foes<br />Computers stutter in wild schizophrenic<br />Files of random numbers<br /><br />It's the end of history<br />Sweat starts from nervous pores<br />Descend into the bowels of your private terrors<br />And break down the concealed steel doors<br />Where the grim leviathan uneasily slumbers<br /><br />We are dangerous life-forms<br />Machines of grace and genocide<br />Fly through fickle electric storms<br />What is this place we've come to ride in<br /><br />Man with a rifle<br />Man with a gun<br />Man with a bulldozer<br />Listen to no one<br />Gonna open up an old road<br />Take it back by force<br />Like our founding fathers intended<br />Left arm sunburned of course<br /><br />Innuendo whispered behind a hand<br />Hunched over at night with headphones on<br />Backward masking in a paisley band<br />Another movie with a digital time bomb<br /><br />Fire leaps through the sharper minds<br />As clues accrue and link<br />At the origin of all things<br />Lies one fact: there is no escape<br /><br />Too few administrators exercise vision<br />Too few stockholders allow it<br />This world's a golden apple ripe for the picking<br />Too many megalomaniacs all too eager to devour it<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Little World</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Stirred my coffee this morning<br />At the rising of the sun<br />I stared down its receding hollows<br />Like the barrel of a shot gun<br />They sawed down the mountain<br />They plowed down my trees<br />One of these days I know they're<br />Coming for me<br />It's a little world<br />Full of big crime<br />Getting smaller all the time<br /><br />Walking through the dirt streets<br />Living in a six-gun town<br />Nothing special happens much<br />No one famous hangs around<br />Another hateful drive-by<br />Another fatal knife attack<br />Another anonymous foreign prince<br />Ten swords thrust into his back<br />It's a little world<br />Dreaming of the big time<br />Getting smaller all the time<br /><br />He studied the expression on the<br />American face<br />You must appreciate the difficulty<br />I can not provide for them<br />Why don't you?<br />I give them to you<br /><br />Unfold the paper's razor creases<br />Terrorism politician poverty disease<br />Living on by idiot luck<br />Dying by degrees<br />Log on the psychic users group<br />Sure enough they told you so<br />Unbelievers feast on humble crow<br />Don't mean they can prevent it though<br />It's a little world<br />Technology reigns sublime<br />Getting smaller all the time<br /><br />In the murky jungle musk and heat<br />Under the condensing sweat of clinging vine<br />Out of a sudden screech and feathery explosion<br />Down the receding vaults of stony time<br />Down the steaming corridors of receding time<br /><br />Out where the continent meets the water<br />Two worlds crash and are torn asunder<br />The mother erodes against the daughter<br />The son and father annihilate each other<br />And the last black hole evaporates<br />Leaving the protons to decay<br />As the competition escalates<br />I watch the twilight fade to gray<br />It's a little world<br />Each new law more decadent<br />Getting smaller every second<br /><br />It is death<br />No medicine<br />Perhaps I will wait to marry<br />Waiting for the cure to come<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>PDV-2</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Siberian skiff<br />Drift across the big lake<br />Shimmer blue in the crystal dawn<br />Quiet splash as the burden leaves the boat<br />For a moment floats<br />Then sinks slowly into<br />An alien universe<br /><br />Vibrating atoms<br />Colliding in the big sky<br />Melting holes through thin atmospheric skin<br />Ultraviolet speeds our tans<br />Infrared warms our seas and lands<br />New hurricanes flush chemical fertilizer<br />Past continental margins<br /><br />Mobile whirring plants<br />Dance in the tide replicating<br />Escalating pools of neurotoxin<br />Shed genetic time bombs<br />Viruses plasmids transposons bacteria<br />Dolphins beach with hot brain fever<br />Shake hands with the great deceiver<br /><br />Won't you help me sister<br />Get them out alive<br />So descends the twister<br />What happened in '75<br /><br />Unbearable stench<br />Surely the government's at fault<br />20,000 dead freshwater seals<br />But sled dog distemper's the culprit instead<br />Let the watery deep devour the dead<br />Microbes leap at the chance to<br />Burn through a naive host<br /><br />Broken rivets<br />The airplane's in distress<br />Please fasten your seat belts<br />And swallow your antibiotics<br />And your antipsychotics<br />Civilization collapses in the wake of the plague<br />But plenty of cheap real estate enters the market<br />You'll find fierce turbulence ahead and<br />Bags in the seats before you<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>History Lesson</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />All comedy<br />All tragedy<br />Human history is nothing but the<br />Screams of genes<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Edges of Things</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I was standing at the edge of a pale sea<br />I thought I'd like to feel its warm waters wash over me, yeah<br />Wash over me<br /><br />I was floating like a metal kite pulled hard against the sky<br />I thought I'd like to break the nylon link and just fly, free<br />Who will fly with me<br /><br />I was swapping stories with a certain kind of devil<br />The slip-point can liberate you if the playing field is level, yeah<br />Let's level the field<br /><br />I was acting under orders, I was bound by law<br />But when the power failed you'd not believe what I saw, no<br />Eat the meat raw<br /><br />I was standing at the edge of a great pale sea<br />I thought I'd like to feel its warm waters wash over me, yeah<br />Who wants to swim with me<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Thin</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1995, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />That fiery old sun<br />Glowing in the dimming sky<br />Was roaring strong when I was born<br />It'll be roaring when I die<br />When I shed this skin and inscribe my final verse<br />Spread thinly across the universe<br /><br />I see giraffes along the savanna<br />Unexpected birds burst up and scatter<br />The quick monkeys with dark eyes darting<br />Press teeth together then commence to chatter<br />When I've spent the final coin in my birthright purse<br />Spread thinly across the universe<br /><br />Even now as silver planes take wing<br />Microwaves bounce off satellites and ricochet<br />The oxides of dinosaurs lay heavy over the city<br />We raise our glasses to progress and decay<br />As I prepare to take my leave<br />I can't help regretting this tarnished legacy<br />But I wish you luck, for neither victories nor losses<br />In the end are what you thought they'd be<br />But luck itself's not blessing or curse<br />Spread thinly across the universe<br /><br />I am with you always<br />No matter what you do<br />In the fields and the hallways<br />The oceans and each tear of dew<br />Wherever you may go<br />Whomever you may know<br />Through your joys and hard-earned sorrows<br />All your back pages and tomorrows<br />I'm in the water<br />I'm in the air<br />I'm drifting through your skies<br />I'm everywhere<br />I'm the man in the moon<br />I'm the blacksmith in the sun<br />And when you meet your perfect stranger, remember<br />I'm everyone<br />And I am every place<br />And I am every time<br />I am every moral dilemma<br />I am every crime<br />You'll find me waiting in your thoughts<br />And I'm hiding in your breath<br />I participated in your birth<br />I'll be witness to your death<br />And when your own husk at last breaks down<br />And you feel your spirit start to disperse<br />Then we'll meet again, you and I<br />Spread thinly across the universe<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Binnory</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1996, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The tale of two daughters of a king I'll sing<br />In the high lands of Binnory.<br />Sir William won the eldest's love<br />And plighted his troth to her with ring.<br />But when he beheld the younger sister fair<br />With rosy cheeks and golden hair<br />He cared no longer for the elder<br />In the high lands of Binnory.<br /><br />The elder princess came to hate the younger<br />In the high lands of Binnory.<br />Said she: "Come, let's see the boats come home<br />From their voyages upon the lonesome sea."<br />Hand in hand to the river's bank they came.<br />Then, catching her sister by her golden mane,<br />She threw the younger into the streams that drain<br />The high lands of Binnory.<br /><br />"Dear sister, extend your hand to me,"<br />Cried the younger daughter of the king of Binnory,<br />"And all I have I'll give to thee<br />Between the mountains and the sea."<br />"I'll not extend my hand to thee,"<br />Replied the elder in her iniquity,<br />"For I'll inherit all, you see,<br />And handsome Sir William will return to me."<br /><br />A famous harper found her there<br />Upon the river banks of Binnory.<br />He strung his harp with the golden hair<br />Of the unknown waif drowned in regal finery.<br />Long years he traveled and played that harp<br />Whose voice lilted sweet just like a lark<br />Until by chance he came one evening dark<br />To the castle of the king of Binnory.<br /><br />The court were gathered to hear him sing<br />In the high lands of Binnory.<br />Sir William and his princess, and the king and queen,<br />All applauded the artistry of his minstreling.<br />But when the harper lay his harp aside<br />The harp sang on, no human hand applied<br />To its golden strings, and their eyes stared wide<br />In the high lands of Binnory.<br /><br />"There sit my parents, the king and queen<br />Of these fine lands of Binnory.<br />And there, Sir William, immaculate, clean,<br />Whose heart proved treacherous and mean.<br />And there, the harper, whose fine harp bound me:<br />He it was who finally found me<br />After you, my sister, so cruelly drowned me<br />In the cold, cold waters of Binnory."<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-653247682042581569?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-22410571359220603072011-10-21T08:13:00.000-07:002011-10-21T08:13:03.937-07:00<i><b>A Prayer for Patience</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Let us tie together our canoes<br />Against the cascades we know must come<br />Let us mingle our dreams in a leather cup<br />And guard our tepee from doubt<br /><br />May our patience preserve our peace<br />Though the cauldron rumbles outside<br />Let us remove ourselves from ruthless lies<br />And pause should a stumble occur<br /><br />Let us remember these blessings that flower<br />Despite dizzy color and alarm<br />Let our small harms enrich this great love<br />That it may grow beyond the poisons of man<br /><br />Let us tie together our canoes<br />Against the cascades we know must come<br />Let us mingle our dreams in a leather cup<br />And guard our tepee from doubt <br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Birth</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Speak in broken syllables,<br />Feel the desert breath -<br />These are secrets vast. . . .<br /><br />Deep.<br /><br />Over the immutable precipice you creep,<br />Plunging free<br />Into a damp and cool cavern where all<br />Ghostly chants still slide, exploring<br />Fingers move along glittering, massive<br />Stalactites.<br /><br />Voiceless gecko, clammy skin,<br />Blind and translucent<br />Clutch at wet mineral hardness. . . .<br /><br />You hear the water drip from<br />Immeasurable distance -<br /><br />Sixteen faint kisses<br />Sucking disks.<br /><br />Spectral analysis breaks full down<br />At the borders of the<br />Middle Ground. . . .<br /><br />You awaken.<br />Feel the currents of breeze race<br />Across exposed skin.<br />Enter again the turning waters of<br />Primeval dawn.<br />The clarification of cognition<br />Curves in toward<br />Resting equilibrium.<br /><br />===========================================================<br /><br />To drink the cold fire,<br />One dances dim in twilight.<br />Standing still at breakneck speed<br />Within a crisply<br />Silent night.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Blaze</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />People ask me: "Where you spent these last couple years, boy?<br />Are you some philosopher in the wilderness looking for a Fountain of Joy?<br />Or just another juvenile delinquent who can't recover after losing his favorite toy?"<br />Well I can't believe all the accusations they rain down over my casket<br />Your life of illusion is dead and your politics is crumpled up in my waste basket<br /><br />Well people give me the once-over, they turn a cold shoulder, then they hurry away<br />They want my opinions on situations too bland for anything friendly to say<br />History passes the bottleneck like a train wreck, headlines rapidly fade from red to gray<br />Well I can't believe all the salty tears dripping on your shiny Sunday shoes<br />Violence sweeps through your neighborhoods and politics withers on your evening news<br /><br />All the plug-in men off molding a new mandate, something they can categorize as common ground<br />But it's common ground I walk upon and I don't want any of them around<br />While all the paranoid crazies report on each other then slip into oblivion without a sound<br />Well I can't believe all the waste as they plunge into space and vanish without leaving a trace<br />The kaleidoscope is turning and politics is burning you alive inside your narrow appointed place<br /><br />So who convinced you that you'll pass as a modern man if you put on a modern disguise?<br />When I can smell the fires of evolution still smoldering in every stranger's eyes<br />It's shockingly simple to stuff noise in your ears and wade in the tidal wave of lies<br />Well I can't believe they go on trimming the sails on a ship that passed under the wave<br />The communal dream's come undone at the seams and politics rots in a shallow grave<br /><br />You want me to invest in a brand new escape plan, the same deal that you made<br />You lived a decade like a sultan, now your wax castle is molten and sinking in the Everglades<br />But sure as every succulent fruit is plucked and dies every bill that's owed will be paid<br />Well I can't believe that you gouged out your own eyes and auctioned off your soul<br />Now your bodies are stacked like kindling wood and the head of politics is going to roll<br /><br />You know what you're thinking when you're sleeping cos your body's jerking and no one's working to take the fear away<br />But then you wake up and you shake off your doubts like drops of annoying sentimentality<br />You bend your back to the attack on your inferiors and lounge in your spirituality<br />Well I can't believe the manipulation that's accepted without question or guilt<br />Status is calculated as a body count and politics is measured by volume of blood spilled<br /><br />Everyone's for sale and everyone is sued in the home of brave litigation<br />The strongest triumphs until he encounters a more desperate champion of intimidation<br />Then he's swallowed by his own greeds and his deepest needs prove mere vain infatuation<br />Well I can't believe all the gossip that's pounding in the air today<br />The true believers are going haywire and politics shows no sign of quietly going away<br /><br />People ask me: "Where you spent these last couple years, man?<br />Is it some kind of difficult message or something a simpleton can understand"<br />Meanwhile the sky falls around them and their kingdoms sink back under the sand<br />Well I can't believe all the idiocy shaking off your tongues and bulging in your brains<br />The material world's crucified your senses and politics has poisoned your veins<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>If I Were a Rose</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />If I were a rose<br />I'd give my love to you<br />If I were a heart<br />I'd give my blood to you<br />But I am a man<br />I'll give you my dreams<br /><br />If I were a lion<br />I'd give my power to you<br />If I were a storm<br />I'd give my shower to you<br />But I am a man<br />I'll give you my dreams<br /><br />If I were a king<br />I'd give my lands to you<br />If I were a surgeon<br />I'd give my hands to you<br />But I am a man<br />I'll give you my dreams<br /><br />If I were your star<br />I'd shine for you on high<br />If I were your diamond<br />My light would never die<br />But I am a man<br />I'll give you my dreams<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Oh! Spanish Morocco</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1993, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Coffered ceilings &amp; minarets,<br />Ancient human bodies laid out distorted, stretched,<br />Mosaic tiled floors &amp; mahogany parquets:<br />A petrifying fire charges in my veins tonight.<br />Choking passion fills my golden cup.<br /><br />A platinum satellite dish shines above cerulean ice,<br />Oh, in this luxuriant life,<br />In this high tower of velvet and gold brocade,<br />Unblinking eye steadily watching the Supreme.<br />So who are these humorless corpses<br />Cast so wise out of time?<br />Who are these wretched Romans?<br />Who's poured this blood wine?<br />Who calls thus to the living,<br />A warning word to the wise?<br /><br />Wipe those digital images<br />Right out of your mortal eyes.<br /><br />While you're mainlining databases<br />Mainlining databases<br />While you're mainlining databases far away, does<br />Skin crisp black in desire's tragedy? Do<br />Distant twisted bodies twitch in mortal agony?<br /><br />When you've saturated your receptors<br />'Til you've forgotten your own name,<br />When the coal-winged angels burst into flame,<br />You may yet feel the blood pulse in the<br />Palms of her smooth and stony hands.<br />And there is something inexplicable loose<br />In this wide world tonight,<br />Flashing lights &amp; searing street heat.<br />And there is something alien moving<br />Free in this wide world tonight.<br />It threatens to detonate a race bomb.<br /><br />Under boiling oil-on-water skies<br />I watched your slow spiral into disgrace,<br />Powerless to save you. Now<br />We both embrace your nightmares.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>1/2</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />1/2 Lord Vader, 1/2 Godzilla<br />1/2 patriotic barbarian, 1/2 guerrilla<br />Down super freeways &amp; untrodden paths<br />Dramatic breakthrus occur by 1/2s<br /><br />1/2 jewel their arms, 1/2 tattoo their legs<br />1/2 say caviar, 1/2 say fish eggs<br />I'm 1/2 a fool but I'm 1/2 a saint<br />1/2's got principles but the other 1/2 ain't<br /><br />1/2 is hell &amp; 1/2 is heaven<br />You invest 14, you recoup 7<br />If you feel 1/2 dead you're 1/2 alive<br />&amp; my next point is just .5<br /><br />1/2 gray elephant, 1/2 long-eared mule<br />1/2 blue-collar genius, 1/2 millionaire fool<br />1/2 practice piano &amp; 1/2 forbidden crafts<br />Dramatic breakthrus occur by 1/2s<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Saints &amp; Fools</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The exiled king stood at the window<br />In a castle on a ship<br />Pondering the fall he'd suffered<br />As ill-equipped as Icarus<br /><br />The foolish days of wine and music<br />So frivolous with intrigues and songs<br />Prisoners agonizing in cold irons<br />The clatter of tongs and squeak of rats<br /><br />The charlatan in his draining cap<br />Drawing stones from dunderheads<br />The tempted saint in the sensual circus<br />Teasing silk threads from rough wool rags<br /><br />Now the laws are more confining<br />Now the skies are buckled down<br />But tiny flaws rip up the fabric<br />Once solid ground needs redefining<br /><br />The saints and fools have left the malls<br />Our accustomed paths are a freeway of dreams<br />There's no telling where it's going<br />Or who will sift the scenes of madness<br /><br />But the exiled king has left his window<br />He's a crafty truce to negotiate<br />None will notice the dragon descending<br />Medieval minds appreciate desperate times<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Slip Away</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Slip away<br />Slip away<br />I don't want to slip away<br /><br />Roll away<br />Roll away<br />I don't want to<br />Roll away from you<br /><br />Fall away<br />One more day<br />I don't want to fall away<br /><br />Skid away<br />We should take the time to get away<br />I don't want to<br />Skid away from you<br /><br />Fade away<br />There must be another way<br />I don't want to fade away<br /><br />Drift away<br />We must never drift away<br />I don't want to<br />Slip away from you <br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Carnival Garden</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1993, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />You can hear the foreigners' nervous laughter<br />Just outside the tent.<br />Come out to that fleshy carnival garden -<br /><br />Teeth. Beer. Bones. Skin.<br />And sweet, salty meat.<br /><br />White cobbles resembling skull caps,<br />Maps like nerves serve to guide us to the<br />Ice-glazed palace, through crushed lifetimes<br />Marking reason's fault lines &amp; time's dank tides:<br /><br />Decaying blood that foams up.<br /><br />Loosen your tie and try to relax.<br />I've seen this show before.<br />It's a good one.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Gengis Kahn People</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1993, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The royal signet ring<br />Rolled from the broken finger of the<br />Porcelain king<br />Bounced down the stairs in<br />Rising arcs and plunged<br />Into a foamy sea<br /><br />You say: "I'm just working off my karma"<br />You've dharma to burn<br /><br />The witch of the sands<br />Elevated his bones in her hands<br /><br />The Gengis Kahn People<br />Are just the same as you and me<br />Caught in the onslaught of history<br /><br />Hey, articulate this, bud<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Immortal</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Once there was an old man dressed in tattered denim, balanced on a three-legged stool, telling stories from his life.<br /><br />Once there was a photo album stuffed with crumpled black and whites, serrated edges and yellow dust of glue: all the comforts and tragedies of family journeys.<br /><br />Once there was a brand new house with clean white tile and shiny faucets, slowly eroded in the weather of love into an historical monument to itself.<br /><br />Once there was a mighty mountain with roots as deep as time. Half exalted and half forlorn, in its senescence its youth reborn.<br /><br />Once there was an old man telling stories from his life. Looking through his skin I saw the explosion of a billion tinted stars.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Question of Ghosts</b></i><br /><br />Copyright 1992, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I'd like to believe in ghosts<br />Shades of those who've been<br />A friend of mine who's reputable<br />Says she sees them now and then<br /><br />I'd like to give up politics<br />It's all cannibalism justified<br />Either there's real mystery out there<br />Or I'm just easily mystified<br /><br />I'd like to ride a fancy funeral barge<br />I'd go drifting with the muddy Nile<br />&amp; emerge upon strange seas of time<br />I suspect that I would have to smile<br /><br />I'd meet my favorite heroes of old<br />Who resisted compliance at each &amp; every turn<br />We'd build us a fire on a mountain top<br />&amp; watch these misconceived agendas burn<br /><br />At night our dear friend John<br />Would have a thing or two to say<br />&amp; Jim &amp; Janis &amp; Jimi<br />Would liven up the day<br /><br />I'd like to build a polymer crystal castle<br />To shield you from the storm<br />But miscalculation and fickle violence<br />Represent the human norm<br /><br />I'd like to believe in ghosts<br />Shades of those who've been<br />A friend of mine who's reputable<br />Says she sees them now and then<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2241057135922060307?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-56004408134743067482011-10-21T06:17:00.000-07:002011-10-21T06:17:51.490-07:00<i><b>100 Monkeys<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />100 monkeys will generate a psychic link<br />Some people think<br />100 monkeys we're scramblin' to the brink<br />Of world peace<br />Some people think<br />100 monkeys to save the human race from ruin<br />Or so a lot of folks presume<br />100 monkeys they want us to visualize it<br />Dance and sing and shout about it<br />100 monkeys<br />Somehow I doubt it<br /><br />I'm outside outside<br />Outside the link<br />I don't buy in<br />To all the crazy stunts they're trying<br />Cos their lips are moving<br />You know that they're lying<br /><br />100 monkeys tomorrow gonna kill one on a cross<br />Some people need a symbolic loss<br />100 monkeys when the workers rule prosperity's lost<br />Some people can't wait to pay the cost<br />100 monkeys will set us on the road to peace<br />Or back to the trees<br />100 monkeys I have less trouble visualizing<br />100 monkeys' worth of fleas<br /><br />Golly<br />These guys are really nuts<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Along the Quarter, 1985<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1991, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The sweating, candle-faced saints are smiling.<br />The gin is cool, the lime comes rising,<br />The brass horns chime, chime, chiming,<br />And bright triangles ringing.<br />Snare drums thrum inside your lungs.<br />Spirits are still singing when we<br />Stumble through the door and anew are born into<br />The heat that sinks around trellised balconies.<br /><br />And here is a new bottle of wine.<br />Here, a misplaced time wedged between<br />Vine-crawling red brick walls.<br />And we might take a walk, someone said,<br />And so we go talking,<br />And laughing along the crumbling curbs where,<br />Accidentally falling into a hat store, we surprised the<br />Skinny girl whose kohl-circled eyes<br />Scowled over the trinkets the rich man buys.<br /><br />Then this was the end of a night.<br />This, then, was where the night was bitten off,<br />As we waited outside in a<br />Wrought iron cafe painted white,<br />Where music remains a distant memory<br />And we must stretch ourselves<br />(And with an effort we stretch ourselves)<br />Along years pouring slow like honey, and:<br />"Have you still got any money"<br />While just across the levee is a<br />Dreaming swamp twisted with drowned trees.<br />Just along this high wall, and<br />Ten paces past the creaking gates,<br />The ruins of old murders sleep out of sight<br />Or float up unsettlingly in the moonlight.<br />But in this sheltered civilization we enjoy<br />Worlds in hybrid music and the tears of saints,<br />And magnolia perfume that spills down from<br />The mystery and laughter of darkened rooms<br />And trellised balconies.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Arena<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1991, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />If you run too fast the world moves slow. You<br />Step off the ride, you got No place to go.<br />Compensate for the vertigo, try to<br />Cope with the spin.<br />The carousel comes round, reach out to<br />Board it again.<br />But it's no merry-go-round: you've found<br />The lion's den.<br /><br />The crowd squeals in delight when you<br />Enter the ring.<br />Instantly twenty-five paid mourners<br />Commence to sing.<br />It's the spring of your life but still<br />Everything's frozen.<br />If they'd given you the option, what<br />Would you have chosen?<br />With ears packed in sawdust, and with<br />Eyes wet with sweat, you smell<br />Feline behind you, but it<br />Ain't over yet.<br /><br />They're selling peanuts and pretzels<br />In the stands for a buck.<br />Way down in the rut bald<br />Wheels just dig in,<br />Gunnin' the engine, four tires just spinnin,<br />Too determined for losin', too<br />Distracted for winnin.<br />The cat makes his great leap and the<br />Crowd makes a moan.<br />You prop your feet on the desk and you<br />Reach for the phone,<br />But your mom wheezes: "I can't recall a single instance<br />You ever did what you were told"<br />And then Dial-a-Prayer interrupts its own message to<br />Put you on hold.<br />"Oh my God," you ponder,<br />"What's this strange karma I've found"<br />And the lion reaches his apogee, and then he<br />Starts coming down.<br /><br />Twenty-five under-paid mourners<br />File from the stands<br />And ride fiery chariots through the heavens to<br />Far-away lands.<br />Do the mystics and physicists know what<br />Any of it means?<br />In the privacy of their cells they shake<br />Aces from their sleeves,<br />While arcade bombadiers and other profiteers<br />Grow holy and prey down on their knees.<br />Picking through bones for overlooked scraps,<br />They congratulate one another for<br />Escaping all traps,<br />And for avoiding all doors that<br />Appear to let in to<br />Mild carnival rides that in fact are<br />Disguised lions' dens. But they<br />Utter private paranoid prayers as the<br />Midway lights dim, for<br />Today it was just you -<br />Any tomorrow now it just might be<br />One of them.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Bad Vibes<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I was on a winning streak<br />And playing it rather well<br />Then I hit a little snag<br />And it all went to hell<br />I should have seen it coming<br />But I ignored the signs<br />When the planets crashed and burned<br />Bad vibes<br /><br />I was getting truly close<br />To all the things I needed<br />Successes came to me in waves<br />Then like a new moon tide receded<br />Now I'm stranded on the beach<br />A victim of hard times<br />Nothing essential's within my reach<br />Bad vibes<br /><br />When the swirl of events<br />Gets so far beyond control<br />You rock along while you can rock<br />And then you let it roll<br />So go on telling jokes<br />But if you injure someone's pride<br />You should have been more mindful of<br />Bad vibes<br /><br />Now the party may be over<br />But I'm told life's not completely tragic<br />Next time I'll be more careful<br />When I fiddle around with magic<br />Next time I scry a fallen warrior<br />I'll double-check the signs<br />Liquidate my assets and vanish when I pick up<br />Bad vibes<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Bajada Song<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Bring me to the bajada<br />Build me a body of light and air<br />I'll shower you with rose petals<br />If you'll come with me there<br /><br />You need not doubt my intention<br />You need not doubt my word<br />I'll nourish your soul and body<br />And clarify what's been blurred<br /><br />Our dedication will support us<br />As we stroll across the sky<br />To tear the edges off the sun<br />With proud brown hawks we'll fly<br /><br />So bring me to the bajada<br />Build me a home of ice and fire<br />You're the gilt-edged gem of freedom<br />The wellspring of my desire<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Broken Parallax<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The skunk is in the garbage<br />The sun is black as coal<br />It's too late to polish up the King's<br />Tarnished rockin' soul<br />Basement's full of blasting caps<br />One day it's bound to blow<br />Then we'll gargle tainted treacle<br />And choke down bitter crow<br />Our scenes are getting thick<br />My friends call me Dick<br /><br />The night is dripping vinegar<br />The wedding cake's got dry rot<br />I guess somebody up there realized you gotta<br />Give the people what they want<br />Silly girls throw their lives away<br />For handsome princes who revert to frogs<br />And the lone wolves on the cutting edge are revealed to be<br />A foam-dripping pack of snarling dogs<br />Our scenes are getting thick<br />My friends call me Dick<br /><br />Book-burners don't dare the barrio<br />Dire wolves are scratchin' at the door<br />Barges bearing future kings must float<br />Never hoping to reach a shore<br />The mayor ran afoul of the narcs<br />Gerald Ford lost face pushin' WINnin'<br />History's buried Karl Marx<br />Instant karma slammed into Lennon<br />Our scenes are getting thick<br />My friends call me Dick<br /><br />Now my good friends are getting scarce<br />My bad enemies are getting worse<br />And I'm getting too sophisticated for composing<br />This sort of Tobacco Road verse<br />Got bullet holes in aluminum cans<br />Got bullet holes in my TV<br />Got a garage full of non-returnable plans<br />Too grandiose to check thermodynamic destiny<br />Our scenes are getting much too thick<br />My friends when they bother to call me<br />Call me Dick<br /><br />The horse head is in the front yard<br />You make do with what you've got<br />The philosopher-king just died of kuru<br />Which I suppose is food for thought<br />Salamander in my liver<br />Bile on my tongue<br />Seduction in a shot glass<br />Cocci in my lung<br />And our scenes are getting too thick for me<br />Every friend calls me Dick eventually<br /><br />And I never woulda thought I'd be breathing high vacuum again<br />Never anticipated our non-aggression pact<br />Could one day end<br />But the skunk is in the garbage<br />The sun's hung in a tree<br />My friends call me Dick<br />It means nothing now to me<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Creeper<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />In a little Southern town<br />At a long day's demise<br />Pa and Ma prepared to settle down<br />In a moldy motel eroding under drizzling skies<br />Pa bumbled up to the desk<br />Requesting a room with isolation<br />They shuttled their stuff into their demesne<br />Pregnant with exhaustion and trepidation<br />Long 'bout midnight<br />Ma give Pa quite a fright<br />Pa said be quiet Ma what's wrong<br />Ma said Pa our little Creeper's gone<br /><br />Pa's blood froze up in his veins<br />And his face turned bone-pale<br />Beyond the open window the great freight trains<br />Grumbled ominously away up northeastern rail<br />Pa and Ma sneaked down peeling corridors<br />Softly hissing their Creeper's name<br />It was an endless nightmare life they lived<br />An exhausting lifestyle they tried to maintain<br />Creeper Creeper come to Ma<br />Creeper Creeper come to Pa<br />Creeper Creeper your whim is our intention<br />Creeper be disfigured beyond recognition<br /><br />Three nights and days unbroken by sleeping<br />They rummaged the little Southern town in vain<br />The desk clerk grew suspicious of the hours they were keeping<br />Ma collapsed on the bed and Pa watched a great freight train<br />Grumbling ominously away in the evening<br />He was like the blind man who can suddenly see<br />He woke up Ma and held her in his flabby arms<br />Slobbering trembling laughing hysterically<br />Long 'bout midnight<br />Their Buick was two receding red lights<br />Blazing a fiery escape route westward-bound<br />They never returned to<br />The little Southern town<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Cycler<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I was waiting one night at the great white machines<br />Near dozing in the muggy warmth and crackling static<br />I was wondering how my friends fell for various improbable schemes<br />My clothes cycling 'round forever<br />Unforgiving and emphatic<br />September breeze through the open door<br />A blushing new wife folding her life<br />A gust parachuted her pink panties to the floor<br /><br />I watched a movie against<br />The advice of a friend<br />But it made me feel different so I<br />Watched it again<br />It was downright disgusting and<br />Vile and mean<br />Degrading to the species<br />If you know what I mean<br />But I gained something that you<br />Can't take away<br />And though you blame me for everything<br />I'll always feel this way<br /><br />She left a note for me that read<br />The best things in life are really free<br />And no one ever really dies<br />And nothing<br />I am with you always<br /><br />Cycler<br />Come back to us now<br />You know the way<br />You can show us how<br />On your wild-revving machine of life<br />Spitting out flecks of purpose and courage<br />Give us your stories of the road you need<br />And of the humanity we all bleed<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Getting Closer<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />It's just my normal flora baby<br />Don't let it alarm you<br />Just my normal flora honey<br />It won't do excessive harm to you<br />I'll be your personal endosymbiont<br />Check your emotions it's just<br />The very thing you want<br />You'll adjust to all the new<br />Sounds and foreign smells<br />I'm finding it perfectly easy to<br />Slip inside your cells<br /><br />Cos there's a wild spark that flickers<br />At the corners of your green eyes<br />There's a nervous tension<br />Thrumming on the air<br />I can hear your thoughts<br />Pulsing in my brain<br />I can feel my fingers<br />Pushing back your hair<br />We'll be close baby<br />Real close<br />Your flesh is my flesh<br />Your bread is my blood<br />Your red wine is my white bone<br />My graven sign is your genome<br /><br />And we're getting closer baby<br />Real close<br />Flesh and blood in dissolution<br />We're getting closer baby<br />Real close<br />Only a million lifetimes separate<br />This reconstitution<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Hobo Passin' Through<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1991, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Back when the pathetic prophet predicted peace and you<br />Slammed shut the lousy book you'd read<br />The foundations trembled underneath our scene.<br />It really opened up my head.<br />The air was shaking like a wet dog.<br />The news was on, it made no sense.<br />Your hound was bayin' down the stairwell, and I was<br />Scabbin' on a picket fence. Now you're<br />Stranded in an alley where grim<br />Camels scamper by,<br />And organ grinder monkeys gouge your eyes out<br />If you pry.<br /><br />I can still recall when I trusted Belinda,<br />It was a couple hours ago.<br />Her best smile sure made my membranes melt,<br />My forgiveness greasing her squeaking guilt.<br />Thought I'd pluck out the stake she was<br />Wearing in her chest, cos it<br />Occurred to me that she might wish to rise.<br />But she tore after me with thirsty daggers<br />Burstin' out her eyes - Well I<br />Came to you with thoughts all pure as<br />Public health and sanitation,<br />But your drunken cries and your<br />Shepherd lies and boy scout collection<br />Just filled me up with images of gross<br />Contamination and progressive<br />Terminal infection.<br /><br />You've got to live with the divisions when<br />Everybody's playing for the same stakes.<br />A writhing mass of contradictions<br />Like a sink a-brim with hissing snakes.<br />Does no good to reverse your gears<br />With the paradoxes pounding through your ears.<br />It's branded in before you're born:<br />Respect ferments to lowest scorn.<br /><br />I was sitting in a certain cafe<br />Reading about the acceptance public access TV is gaining<br />When the sky split open like velvet curtains<br />And a blazing angel appeared before me saying:<br />"I've been sent to grant you a miracle,<br />Just whisper your secret desires to me"<br />I folded the paper and right away answered:<br />"I'm just waiting for a cup of tea"<br /><br />Guess it's been 'proximately six years now<br />I ain't caught a wink of sleep.<br />My eyes are spent cannon shot in a Saharan sirocco, and my<br />Cultivated shallowness is getting deep.<br />And you -<br />You're fenced in choices and you<br />Gestate indecision.<br />You trade off your honor<br />For popular derision.<br />Haven't you seen it all now<br />On the nightly news?<br />Popular political pimps<br />Inform your views.<br />Up in your lofty tower of glass you're<br />Suddenly exposed, yeah,<br />You're the emperor renowned who<br />Spent his crown on threadbare clothes. Well,<br />Nobody lives by the scruples<br />They so readily profess to believe in.<br />They climb in bed with the first enemy<br />Who's willing to receive them.<br />Then they swear allegiance to a higher cause<br />For the most despicable reasons,<br />And whisper white lies for the greater good,<br />And commit ten thousand other treasons.<br />It's so easy to be righteous<br />When no debatable options present.<br />I know you're the soul of charity,<br />But some offenses you resent.<br />Ain't you just another human<br />Besieged by human sensations?<br />God knows I've felt empty too after<br />Struggling with those same temptations.<br /><br />The ambitious fireman extinguished the sun<br />While his sullen wife considered throwing a hydrophobic fit.<br />I just babbled away in a mystic tongue<br />Leaving nobody 'cept you to interpret it.<br />Now Jack is listenin' in on phone calls<br />While Sherry snips out paper dolls,<br />And those who threw it all away watch<br />TV cops, then climb the walls.<br />Sure is cold since the sun sold out,<br />And the nights are slick as butter.<br />The nihilistic bore declares bold doubt and laughs when the<br />Cool voice of reason starts to stutter.<br />An imbecile in his house of flesh can't<br />See the world beyond his eyes, but there's a<br />Hobo who's just passin' through an' he<br />Knows there's really nothin' else worth doin'.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Otherside<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1991, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The color white, wherein<br />The profane becomes divine. . . .<br /><br />And there may come a girl,<br />There will be a foolish girl who<br />In shades too dark to view her<br />Pinched and tattered world through, standing<br />Bored beside an iron fence, awaiting. . . .anything,<br />Blind even to her ironic circumstance -<br />On that day, on that day to end the days,<br />To break the flow of days she's known,<br />Wrapped in black entire, unsuspecting, then:<br /><br />As the sky cracks and the<br />Blanching earth moans<br />She may stumble (quite by accident)<br />Into a contorted vision of<br />Changing Woman, painted white as Moon's bones<br />Who rose up dancing when birds of indigo blue<br />Spread their wings and flew like the<br />Flash of a quick knife, dark birds,<br />Yellow-speckled edge of wings splash, and the<br />Patter-pat of dark-seamed moccasins stirring<br />Soft powder sand and<br />The clack of white shells shaking around her neck,<br />The tremor of the turquoise, the abalone,<br />The swaying prismatic spray from rock-crystal and<br />Tar-black jewel beads,<br />White clay, ocher red, forehead adorned with<br />Corn pollen, and the jabbing of the yucca root, but -<br /><br />The sun has shut his eye this day,<br />On this day, on this day to devour the days,<br />A day scrubbed clean of smell and taste,<br />A day all clad in night when<br />All sing is erased. . . .<br /><br />And all worlds are shifted into<br />New vistas and ways.<br />And all shadows are twisted, twined,<br />Into and out of phase.<br />This silly girl in dark shades,<br />Surely she must stand frozen sudden and straight,<br />Caught pinned on solar horns.<br />Four days must she wait<br />And be destroyed then by her fate. . . .Still,<br />Worlds blend successive casual,<br />And new suns boldly glow,<br />And even this empty-headed girl, all these things<br />For a fleeting instant she may feel but never,<br />Never shall she know.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Pricing Eggs<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />It sure was a long hot summer baby<br />Never certain I could call you friend<br />You put me through some changes now I'm<br />Never going back again<br />I can still see you all dressed in black<br />And your laughter carries in the wind<br />Now the season's turning over and I'll be<br />Back on the trail again<br /><br />Well I still don't know what you require<br />Too much dust is hanging in the air<br />But I'll be around when you settle down<br />I'll smooth your blanket and brush your hair<br />I watched you in the market place<br />Pricing eggs with a knowing grin<br />Before the last star fades and the sun awakes I'll be<br />Back on the trail again<br /><br />I need the solitary peace that floods the senses<br />Like an overflowing glass of wine<br />And you need something that's hidden from me<br />That will be revealed in time<br />I know you sample life in cautious sips<br />Complications always meant a new lost friend<br />I'll be there for you tonight but right now I'm<br />Back on the trail again<br /><br />I never felt anything in a fancy church<br />I couldn't have got in a Laundromat<br />You left my house without an explanation<br />I left your house without my hat<br />So I came back to try to recover what was lost<br />There's no hidden message I'm trying to send<br />But when the nights grow long and the days cool off I'll be<br />Back on the trail again<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Reincarnation Blues<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Hey my name is Albert Einstein<br />Anyway it used to be<br />Way back in another lifetime<br />When you expected so much more from me<br />But now my life is such a drag<br />My insights will never reach the masses<br />I'm just swimming round and round this plastic bag<br />Being carried by a fat-faced kid in fat-lensed glasses<br /><br />Reincarnated as a goldfish<br />What'd I ever do to deserve this<br />Such a miserable humiliating existence<br />Einstein as a goldfish<br /><br />So we depart the pet store eventually<br />He's swinging me like a pendulum<br />Delta M is greater than h over c-squared delta t<br />Boy this is some insipid dull kid<br />Holy smoke look out here comes a truck<br />He notices it just at the last instant<br />Of all the improbable blind bad luck<br />This kid won't get much wasted sentiment<br /><br />There are so many secrets that I could share<br />But it's so hard for a goldfish<br />To get somebody to care<br />He swings me around cos it gives him a kick<br />He's just proved to me that a<br />Fish can be seasick<br /><br />I get dumped in an aquarium too tired to essay an inspection<br />Soon as the kid's gone I start feeling better<br />I need a plan to alert the world to my resurrection<br />But a fin can't hold a pen to inscribe a letter<br />Then there's sudden motion in the murky distance<br />I can feel my blood begin to curdle<br />Too late to pledge some onerous penance<br />Einstein as breakfast for Fido the snapping turtle<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Scared to Death<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />Your telephone's ringing but there's no reply<br />Give me a thrill and you steal my breath<br />But the way you treat me now sure scares me to death<br /><br />Fingering my low-slung iron bola balls<br />A hot-blooded Gaucho fresh from the pampas grass<br />I'll gallop right into your fine lecture halls<br />Give you a swift kick in your post-graduate class<br /><br />Spider lightning reticulates in the black<br />But the thunder can't compete with your curses<br />Bundled up over my poor guanaco's back<br />Strum my charango and slaughter some verses<br /><br />You used to scare me like a voodoo doll<br />When I still thought you might escape<br />But now you're another trophy brightening my wall<br />Hold my sombrero and my monsoon cape<br />Used to worry all the time but I forget what for<br />Now I'm not scared to death of you no more<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Stupid Stuff<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br />I said there's a million choices that color our worlds<br />She said I'm happiest when my world is black and white<br />I said I think that we could cut a deal<br />She said I've got other plans tonight<br /><br />Boy I'm sure getting tired of<br />All this stupid stuff<br />Everybody wants to go get wired on<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />I don't wanna hear about the dreams you meet<br />All this stupid stuff<br />Restless Rambos sweatin' in the Saudi heat<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />Cops and thieves and retired seamen eat up<br />All this stupid stuff<br />You lose you win you come out even<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />I said this feeling of failure's getting too familiar<br />She said all I feel is out of touch<br />I said most people have too little imagination<br />She said a few of us have too much<br /><br />Wives gettin' shot by jealous husbands<br />All this stupid stuff<br />Twenty to life but she had it comin'<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />When you're feeling down they'll try to pick you up<br />All this stupid stuff<br />When you're enthusiastic they've had enough of<br />All your stupid stuff<br /><br />Now you don't seem to cry no more over<br />All this stupid stuff<br />Last time you did you forgot what for<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />Who now's gonna critique those strange movies in your head<br />All this stupid stuff<br />All politics is low-cal the drunk on the barstool said<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />She ain't sure he's tough enough for<br />All this stupid stuff<br />Is this true love or just a bluff<br />All this stupid stuff<br /><br />I said there's a great big tossing ocean we could swim in<br />She said I don't have the time to get too deep<br />I said everything I could think to mention<br />Somewhere along the line she fell asleep<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Prophet<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1991, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />The Prophet stood upon a mountain<br />Above the jumbled junk yard where the<br />Corrupted townspeople wandered.<br />He fixed his sightless eyes upon the blazing sun<br />And proclaimed: "Your days are numbered.<br /><br />"Your desires are narrow. Your plans are petty.<br />Your hands are sticky with blood. All your<br />Children can do is scream.<br />The stars you install shall fall down upon you.<br />Only in sleep do you dare to dream.<br /><br />"Your cities are shattered. Your nations are burning.<br />You're turning in the current against the<br />Only birthright worth receiving.<br />All that remains is a cavity<br />You once filled up with living."<br /><br />But the townspeople only mocked the Prophet.<br />They laughed at him and scorned him<br />For his failure to be the least bit funny.<br />And when at last he'd completely bored them<br />They proceeded to ignore him, and then they<br />Went out to look for money.<br /><br />The Prophet followed a little brook<br />Through the highlands to its springs.<br />He struck it with his walking stick and<br />Instantly grew wings.<br />The townspeople saw the Prophet last that day.<br />They stared in wonder as he flew away.<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Dark Eyes<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Your skin's smooth as cocoa beans<br />Your hair hangs down in inky rings<br />Your eyes like an Egyptian queen's<br />Glitter in the moon's glow<br />Your face was lifted from Rimbaud<br />Your grace from some source I don't know<br />But your mysterious smile betrays your light<br />You're queen of the night<br /><br />Now the rain is dancing<br />On your doorstep<br />You can smell it<br />On the air<br />You can sense me<br />There's no danger<br />And I never<br />Was a stranger<br /><br />Ah dark eyes<br />You could wreck empires with<br />One incautious smile<br />Stay with me a while<br /><br />I'll believe in you<br />And time will never end<br />I'll believe in you<br />And never walk alone again<br />And let the old hurts heal<br />And let the bad breaks mend<br />And let my strained temper bend<br />And dress the wound where the bullet hit<br />And let shattered bone knit<br />You are the full meaning<br />Of my world<br />I'll believe in you<br /><br />I've been all shook up<br />I've been all shook down<br />Time twisted around me like a noose<br />Now all that trouble's come unwound<br />I'm not here to keep you in stitches<br />I'm not here to keep you entertained<br />I'm not here to throw your switches<br />Or to patch the leaks that stained<br />When it rained<br />I'm not here so baby you can drive my car<br />Across the battlefields of jealousy<br />And I can't be some shooting star<br />Guiding you to a fantastic destiny<br />I'm not here cos you knocked me cold<br />I've met too many porcelain dolls<br />I'm not here cos I'm particularly bold<br />Or supple enough to scale your walls<br />I need your faith to make it real<br />I'm tired of the trading on the avenue<br />I want you to feel the way I feel<br />I'm here to give my love to you<br /><br />Queen of the night<br />In your necklace of Venus and Mars<br />You're pasted to eternity against<br />A coal-black sack of stars<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Down the Line<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />I feel it's time to kick up the hawg an'<br />Roll on down the line<br />There's a better story unfoldin' somewhere out there an'<br />I'm gonna make it mine<br />I'm tired of dinin' with cannibals they're<br />So slow to reach fer the bill<br />They're too busy gorgin' themselves to make good conversation an'<br />I never get my fill<br /><br />Clouds are racin' 'cross silver skies an'<br />The road's straight as a scalpel slice<br />Think I'll find me a girl who's a little bit stunned<br />Who won't notice if I say somethin' twice<br />I seen too many deaths an' grisly diseases<br />I never thought I'd have to see<br />An' the beautiful lady who cashes my checks<br />Would be the last to admit she's with me<br /><br />I rubbed elbows with cynics an' various boors<br />Who stone those who act like they care<br />Then I met a professional head-hunter who kissed me an' said<br />What size hat do you wear<br />Some people sayin' ever'thing has a price an'<br />Only stupidity comes fer free<br />Soon as you turn yer back they move in fer the attack<br />Then cry over you at the cemetery<br /><br />I'm awful tired bein' manipulated<br />Eight whole days a week<br />I'm awful tired doin'<br />Whatever it is I'm told<br />I'm sick of the alchemists 'round here<br />They drank all my beer an' left me<br />Lead where I once had gold<br /><br />So I'll be rippin' down some country road, dumb<br />Cows be watchin' me<br />They ain't no good helpin' me with my map but<br />Least they don't spend their lives glued to TV<br />There's a shadow up ahead lookin' so familiar<br />Fer a second jest about made me ill<br />But it's just illusion mixed from time an' crime<br />Buzzard risin' up from fresh road-kill<br /><br />Think I'll fire up the hawg an' rip this joint<br />This place ain't what I seem to recall<br />You can't spend all yer time bein' outta yer mind an' I<br />Sure can't spend all mine at the mall<br />This must be one of them things that you never explain<br />Like a lost night aboard a UFO<br />Think the time has come to call this thing done an'<br />Pack up my medicine an' go<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Happy<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />I'm happy as spit<br />I'm happy now mama<br />Let's get on with it<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />I'm happy as can be<br />I'm happy now baby<br />Won't you come play with me<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />Since you split the scene<br />I'm happy now mama<br />Tell you everything<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />Peachy keen and fabulous<br />I'm happy now baby<br />Nothing much I miss<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />I'm ignoring reality<br />I'm happy now mama<br />And all that misery<br /><br />Yes I'm happy now<br />I love Big Brother<br />Better give me the bullet quick baby<br />Before I start to recover<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Love Among the Ruins<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />Bacchus hit a Circle K<br />And blew the take on wine<br />Apollo essayed a similar quest<br />And is presently serving time<br /><br />An assassin gunned down the President<br />And demolished the golden calf<br />The rest of the nation mourned in earnest but<br />I just had to laugh<br />I said whatever I had to say<br />I did all that I could do<br />You gotta try to get out of the way<br />When the sky falls down around you<br /><br />The uffish critics like political movies<br />But I prefer the blood and guts they scorn<br />They assault me with angry pop corn but<br />I can't help but laugh<br />It's a plague of moralizers taking over this place<br />Shoving their placards right in your face<br /><br />When the swirl of events<br />Gets so far beyond control<br />You rock along while you can rock<br />And then you let it roll<br />So go on telling jokes<br />But if you injure someone's pride<br />You should have been more mindful of<br />Bad vibes<br /><br />Aw now 'ere comes the town idiot<br />He wouldn't know high tragedy if it<br />Bit 'im in the arse<br />I believe he'd be amused by the world on fire<br />He thinks terrorist aggression's melodramatic farce<br /><br />Now we're dancing in the graveyard<br />Dancing among the ruins<br />Dancing to the spectral tunes<br />Grooving with the ghostly singers<br />Dancing to destruction's beat<br />Dancing away hypocrisy<br />We'll all be worm food in one hundred years<br />Don't you want to dance with me<br />Dancing with the general's AWOL staff<br />Dancing around the shattered golden calf<br />You look a little funny honey<br />I just had to laugh<br />I'm sorry baby but<br />I just had to laugh<br />Oh no don't<br />Don't give me that hurt look now<br />Wait a minute just a minute<br />I didn't mean it you know I didn't I<br />Wait I take it back<br />I take it all back<br />You know I just couldn't help it<br />Come back here<br />Aw now<br />Yeah<br />That's more like it<br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Talkin' Shoppin' Blues<br /></b><br /></i>Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br />If yew wanna sweater<br />If yew wanna shawl<br />If yer way particular<br />Or yew gotta lotta gall<br />I got jest the place fer yew man<br />Cos these dudes got it all<br />Down at the mall<br /><br />Down there at the mall boy<br />Never seen so many stores<br />Lotsa outta-towners like bulls<br />Burstin' down the doors<br />Divin' behind my cape I was<br />Lookin' wildly fer some picadors<br />When them pointy horns of destiny hemmed in on me I was<br />Contemplatin' foreign shores<br /><br />Spilt yogurt sucked up fast ked<br />Ever'thing sparkles deathly clean<br />An' all them fashion divas this year are wearin'<br />'Lectric seasick green<br />Left me feelin' a little queasy I admit<br />An' not a little mean<br />Down there ever'thing's WRONG or RIGHT<br />But I'm some vague place in between<br /><br />So sure I guess I aughter thank yew babe<br />Yew got me home in jest one piece<br />Ever' burd feels best flyin' 'round his own nest<br />An' fishies flounder in unfamiliar seas<br />An' tho' I'd prob'ly go again babe<br />'Specially if yew asked me please<br />Guess I aughter be more grateful I never caught yer<br />Chronic maller's disease<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-5600440813474306748?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-48492531263970919452011-10-20T03:21:00.000-07:002011-10-20T03:21:54.397-07:00<em><strong>Texas</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1987, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />The sun comes up and the sun goes down<br /><br />On all the deserted oil boomtowns<br /><br />There's only a trickle where the river used to flow<br /><br />Oh, down south that dust does blow in Texas<br /><br />Baby, baby, baby, back in Texas<br /><br />They gotta sky so big you can't believe<br /><br />They got it rigged, you gotta leave<br /><br />Texas<br /><br /><br /><br />The earth is hard and the clay is red<br /><br />It once was wild, now everything's dead<br /><br />The storm comes riding up from the coast<br /><br />To blow away every miserable ghost outta Texas<br /><br />Baby, baby, baby, outta Texas<br /><br />They all lie so big you can't believe<br /><br />They got it rigged, they gotta deceive you in<br /><br />Texas<br /><br /><br /><br />Then she'll come walking in like your wildest dream<br /><br />Then she's gone in a flash of green<br /><br />And for a while you feel torn in half, but<br /><br />Later on you can only laugh about Texas<br /><br />Baby, baby, baby, about Texas<br /><br />And they can cry so loud, don't have a belief<br /><br />Then they walk out proud, you feel relief leaving Texas<br /><br />Baby, baby, baby, leaving Texas<br /><br />They can cry so loud<br /><br />Then they walk out proud<br /><br />Walk outta Texas<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Tyche</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1987, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Balloon drifting early morning<br /><br />The air is chill and still<br /><br />Fast cars paint the desert<br /><br />The mountains breaking early purple<br /><br />Corona of light like burning spears<br /><br />In the arena soap bubble spheres rise and wobble<br /><br />Bursting in colors and weird music<br /><br />And a blind woman with a dog<br /><br />Holds the wheel intense in silence<br /><br />The dog teeth sharp growls low<br /><br />Turns it spinning<br /><br />Turning quiet turning clean<br /><br />She sails the secret seas between<br /><br /><br /><br />On a sandy beach in Mexico<br /><br />Bright bags come to life along the shore<br /><br />Embers of fires still yellowing<br /><br />Mellowing coal-glow<br /><br />White courtyard brilliant sea dove<br /><br />Colorfully puffed planes triangle overcoated blue seas<br /><br />Fine brown feathers waft in slow-draining tide pools<br /><br />And empty long-necked bottles emblems yellow and green<br /><br />Recall guitars gently weeping yawning sleeping<br /><br />Steak rare and tender love<br /><br />No one remembers what they could not rise above<br /><br />And a blind woman with a dog<br /><br />Plys the seas an underwater queen<br /><br />Waves rise in silence part divided plover wings<br /><br />Who knows the things she's seen<br /><br />Sailing the secret seas between<br /><br /><br /><br />In New York City<br /><br />It's more than you know<br /><br />In New York City<br /><br />In New York snow<br /><br />In Washington state<br /><br />In Washington D.C.<br /><br />In New Orleans<br /><br />It's so much more than it seems<br /><br />In Brazil in Australia<br /><br />New Zealand Portugal Wyoming Tierra del Fuego<br /><br />Duluth Moscow Perth Singapore on the moon<br /><br />In the month of June<br /><br />On a train in a tunnel<br /><br />Just before the lights go out<br /><br />Then when absolutely nothing's seen<br /><br />She sails the secret seas between<br /><br /><br /><br />Horse ranch dust and Texas skies<br /><br />She minds the foals<br /><br />Looks along the long fences and thinks<br /><br />Of places that she's been<br /><br />She remembers long-lost friends<br /><br />People that she's known<br /><br />Miracles she's seen<br /><br />Mistakes that she made<br /><br />Prices that she paid<br /><br />And a blind woman with a dog<br /><br />Turns the wheel intense in silence<br /><br />The dog teeth sharp growls low<br /><br />Turns it spinning<br /><br />Turning silent turning clean<br /><br />Sailing the secret seas between<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Wooves</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1987, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br /><br /><br />Howlin' again at bitter moon.<br /><br />The light is green, nothing's seen,<br /><br />Nothing's heard but wooves.<br /><br /><br /><br />The Aztec sold his warrior soul<br /><br />To white man's rock and roll, but his spirit heart<br /><br />Was ripped apart by wooves.<br /><br />Howlin' again at bitter moon.<br /><br />The light is green, nothing's seen,<br /><br />Nothing's heard but wooves.<br /><br /><br /><br />The young mother on the elevator<br /><br />Felt her blood chill, the car stop still,<br /><br />Smelt copper blood spilt by wooves.<br /><br />The Aztec sold his warrior soul<br /><br />To white man's rock and roll, but his spirit heart<br /><br />Was ripped apart by wooves.<br /><br />Howlin' again at bitter moon.<br /><br />The light is green, nothing's seen,<br /><br />Nothing's heard but wooves.<br /><br /><br /><br />Oh, blood.<br /><br />Oh, blood.<br /><br />On blood they prey.<br /><br />They prey for pain.<br /><br />It's the jungle law.<br /><br />Oh broad, scarlet river gush.<br /><br />Oh God, deliver us <br /><br />From wooves.<br /><br /><br /><br />Howlin' again at bitter moon.<br /><br />The light is green, nothing's seen,<br /><br />Nothing's heard but wooves.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Eat Meat</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1988, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Eat meat - cabbage thoughts.<br /><br />Eat meat - flower thoughts.<br /><br />Eat meat - clean your plate.<br /><br />Eat meat - carnivate.<br /><br /><br /><br />Eat meat - we lowly shrubs are immanentized too.<br /><br />Boiled flesh and scalded blood in a pot of stew.<br /><br />Or a Texas barbecue will really hit the spot.<br /><br />Eat meat - come and get it while it's hot.<br /><br /><br /><br />Eat meat - and have mercy on my fibrous soul.<br /><br />Eat meat - though I'm just a lowly vegetable.<br /><br />Synchronicity made scientific.<br /><br />Paranoia is ultra-addictive.<br /><br />Corruption keeps itself in check.<br /><br />Botanicals deserve your utmost respect.<br /><br />Eat meat.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Eidolon Ascension (Sudden Death)<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1988, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I wrote a new song for acoustic guitar.<br /><br />My producer said: "Make it electric, it'll carry you far.<br /><br />Sell off that old pick-up truck and buy a fast car."<br /><br />I wrote a new song for acoustic guitar.<br /><br /><br /><br />I didn't mind the chicken moving on my plate.<br /><br />It's no worse than the last moments of a first date.<br /><br />I just wish you'd been more cryptic about what you love and what you hate.<br /><br />I didn't mind the chicken moving on my plate.<br /><br /><br /><br />So you crossed the River Jordan before your time and took<br /><br />A suite at the Motel of Lost Companions where the greatest late artists reside.<br /><br />You were on the brink of super-stardom, but they told me you suddenly died.<br /><br />Now they'll give you a star.<br /><br />You're a friend of mine wherever you are.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'll drink an unvoiced toast to you and shelter you in memory.<br /><br />I'll bear you like a shield when this living leaves me tired and lonely.<br /><br />And if I had the chance to tell you one last thing only,<br /><br />I'd thank you for the road you showed us, the dreams you walked in and the stories you told us.<br /><br />And when I'm feeling blue, in dreams I'll walk with you.<br /><br />I'll play out the scenes only in my dreams.<br /><br />Only in dreams,<br /><br />In beautiful, beautiful dreams.<br /><br /><br /><br />Now I wear these shades of blue so you can't see my eyes.<br /><br />They may be cheap and dirty, but it's a useful disguise.<br /><br />It's eidolon ascension, ruin on the rise.<br /><br />I wear shades of blue so you can't see my eyes.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Majesty #1<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1988, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />In the misty shades of dusk and umber<br /><br />And the rumble of distant thunder<br /><br />I watched the eagle soaring through<br /><br />The summer's evening sky<br /><br />In the silence like a holy stone<br /><br />The visions seen are not the visions shown.<br /><br />The harvest grown springs not from the seeds sewn<br /><br />But you don't think to wonder why<br /><br /><br /><br />All the bleary buttes melted in shadow<br /><br />Wild erosion sculpts a mesa-tapered plateau<br /><br />And the river's a silver ribbon when<br /><br />The last light hits it right<br /><br />All the canyon faces turned to pink and rust<br /><br />The skeleton oak shivered in a gust<br /><br />Of a canyon breeze. I knew I must be<br /><br />Seeing beyond my given sight.<br /><br /><br /><br />And the night spilled across the land then<br /><br />The Milky Way spanning the canyon<br /><br />The cool breeze lifting, gliding,<br /><br />Flying above the boulder and the tree<br /><br />And the eagle's floated down to her nest<br /><br />The world settling down to rest<br /><br />You always suspect what you'd never guess<br /><br />Pressing back the curtains of majesty<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Eater of Souls<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Eater of souls<br /><br />You devour my blood<br /><br />You befoul me in mud<br /><br />You slink back to the shoals<br /><br />Clutcher of breath<br /><br />You wait in a dark place<br /><br />You anticipate my face<br /><br />As you embrace me in death<br /><br /><br /><br />Master of ghouls<br /><br />You love your dank swamp<br /><br />Where your victims rot<br /><br />And your minions drool<br /><br />Maker of evil<br /><br />Taking delight in the terror<br /><br />Are you the sin-bearer<br /><br />The Egyptian boll weevil<br /><br /><br /><br />Now your black flag's unfurled<br /><br />Tattered white hair blowing<br /><br />Your black maw is growing<br /><br />To swallow the world<br /><br />These horrors I dream of<br /><br />Did I finally discover<br /><br />An authentic dream lover or another<br /><br />Vampire of love<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Everything<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I came crawling across the desert<br /><br />My lips were black and cracked<br /><br />The Arab with the curling beard<br /><br />Smiled and handed me a golden cup<br /><br />Of sand<br /><br />I passed within a dream<br /><br />Where you waited at a golden oasis<br /><br />And you gave me relief<br /><br />You are everything to me<br /><br /><br /><br />I can see the geometry now<br /><br />Underpinning our relationships<br /><br />There's a satellite turning in the atmosphere<br /><br />There's a laser pulsing underneath your skin<br /><br />There's a spider stretching through the miles<br /><br />On his silken skein called heritage<br /><br />There's a smudge of blood on your cheek<br /><br />It's a crimson tear when you blink<br /><br /><br /><br />We were bloated on the high seas<br /><br />Dead bodies where the ship went down<br /><br />Sharks were tearing at old flesh<br /><br />Sun-baked<br /><br />Bright shining hummingbird<br /><br />Lift us up give us new life<br /><br />You are the angel in soft leather with iridescent wings<br /><br />You are everything to me<br /><br /><br /><br />I can hear the silent music<br /><br />Backbeat of the world<br /><br />There's a waterfall of crystal velvet<br /><br />There's a gentle rain on your face<br /><br />There's a cave beyond a gravestone<br /><br />There's a crypt that's shot with treasure<br /><br />There's a fish that walks among men<br /><br />There's a wish that keeps us going<br /><br />There's a sewing woman with a big dog<br /><br />There's a frog prince with a golden ball<br /><br /><br /><br />We were falling up into the sky<br /><br />Riding on a sparking fountain<br /><br />You were spinning in a white dress<br /><br />I wore a white tuxedo<br /><br />A magnetism of mystical proportion<br /><br />Archangels sounding silver trumpets<br /><br />We beheld the four corners of the world<br /><br />But of all that I could see<br /><br />You remained everything to me<br /><br /><br /><br />And we can taste the nectar of Heaven now<br /><br />Honey on our tongues<br /><br />There's a delicate bone that makes the new phone ring<br /><br />There's a dinosaur that creeps invisible<br /><br />Flux and flicker<br /><br />There's a zipper that protects the stars<br /><br />There's a bar fly with both wings broken<br /><br />There's a ruby jewel you can walk inside<br /><br />There's a demon with holy light in his eyes<br /><br />There's a trigger and it can be fired<br /><br />There's a hired killer who can't find his prey<br /><br />There's a day for the two of us<br /><br />There's a night of trust that's coming<br /><br />You will meet up with me<br /><br />There's a hinged moment when you'll finally truly see<br /><br />You were always everything to me<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Felinity<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />She comes to me when<br /><br />I Least expect it<br /><br />And the city busts open<br /><br />Leaves me disconnected<br /><br />Priestess of the earth<br /><br />Renew the birth of our union<br /><br />Offer communion at our reunion<br /><br />Light up the tall tiara<br /><br />I've butchered cattle fresh from dreaming<br /><br />Scheming mildly in fallow fields<br /><br />The unconscious river yields<br /><br />A monstrous new catch<br /><br />I'm a cat<br /><br />Cat's eye<br /><br />You pry<br /><br />What you saw<br /><br />Cat's claw<br /><br />You're a rat<br /><br /><br /><br />What it ain't but<br /><br />What it seem<br /><br />Pyramid slaves scream<br /><br />What you thought you seen<br /><br />Did ya did ya<br /><br />Ingots of gold stacked<br /><br />In the sun's heart<br /><br />Like junked cabs or<br /><br />Clumped crabs<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm mystified<br /><br />Hostage lover<br /><br />Flag strips bind your eyes<br /><br />I'm free to foment dissent<br /><br />Chaos spring from the white noise heart<br /><br />Of blood and dark<br /><br />After-hours critics<br /><br />Why don't you write your own tickets<br /><br />In neon crayons along steel canyon walls<br /><br />Or with your leaky fountain pens inside your garbage bins<br /><br />Coiling spring in the darkness<br /><br />Is there no savior now among us<br /><br />Whence springs sorrow there founts hope<br /><br />Tightening spring tension building<br /><br />The determination and the danger that you bring<br /><br /><br /><br />So the thirsty pattern's exploding<br /><br />In our genes<br /><br />Fire shining blue guns for<br /><br />Succeeding kings<br /><br />Or for hire and you know<br /><br />Surely what that means<br /><br />The motorcycle loner done us<br /><br />No hero's now among us<br /><br />Just a giant with a broken jaw<br /><br />Who knows what he saw<br /><br />Scrapes my throat raw<br /><br />Just like cat's claw<br /><br />She comes to me<br /><br />When I neglect the sparking fountain<br /><br />She's an angel from the hollow mountain<br /><br />Egyptian goddess be near now<br /><br />Take my sorrow and don't cry<br /><br />She sighs and wipes a tear from<br /><br />Her clear blue cat's eye<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Fighting Fires<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Me and my attorney got a special relationship<br /><br />I'm the dog he's the tick<br /><br />I call him up when I get in a fix<br /><br />Man he knows some clever tricks<br /><br /><br /><br />This snake's for hire<br /><br />We're walking on a wire<br /><br />This snake's for hire<br /><br />We're walking on a wire<br /><br /><br /><br />Me and my attorney got a special relationship<br /><br />I'm the dog he's the tick<br /><br />I call him up when I get in a fix<br /><br />Man he knows some clever tricks<br /><br /><br /><br />This snake's for hire<br /><br />We're walking on a wire<br /><br />This snake's for hire<br /><br />You throw money at a fire<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Holstein Dream<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />He woke up with ice cubes in his lungs today<br /><br />He felt the sun was far away<br /><br />The years hung like a stone at his neck<br /><br />The brave bull's beautiful life was a wreck<br /><br />And the sky crashed down around his head<br /><br />Smashing into his king-size water bed<br /><br />His wife rolled over and asked him<br /><br />What's that that you said<br /><br />He tried to recapture the days gone by<br /><br />The fleecy clouds the pie in the sky<br /><br />But the pretty clouds that he'd seen<br /><br />Were nothing but a holstein dream<br /><br />With country kitchens and checkered curtains<br /><br />And barnyard plays and fishing days<br /><br />Just dead brown fields that never grew green<br /><br />Nothing but a holstein dream<br /><br /><br /><br />Like a pig in a poke with a sharp stick stuck down its throat<br /><br />It was nothing he could hope to joke about<br /><br />Like a young man of wealth who's been stripped of health<br /><br />Or a surrounded general overcome with doubt<br /><br />Like a ship at shore when the tsunami hits<br /><br />It was much too late to sail away<br /><br />The gods he'd prayed to were hypocrites<br /><br />There was no time to learn a new way to pray<br /><br />And no place to go to get away from it all<br /><br />The attraction of the mall was just too big<br /><br />And the country boy was a city pig<br /><br />No roof to raise or trench to dig<br /><br />The country boy was a city pig<br /><br /><br /><br />Oh my God where'd I go wrong<br /><br />All my life I tried so hard<br /><br />To do the things I thought were right<br /><br />This role of Job is a bitter reward<br /><br />For a life-long struggle against the night<br /><br />My wife who seemed so satisfied<br /><br />Is leaving me to find herself<br /><br />My son and heir has lost his mind<br /><br />And married a tramp who's after his wealth<br /><br />God I only want an empty field<br /><br />To lie down in and hide my face<br /><br />In Gaea's breast I'll make my shield<br /><br />I've looked many places but in every place<br /><br />I see visions that can only mean<br /><br />My life's work was a holstein dream<br /><br />Was the milk just clotted and not rich with cream<br /><br />Was it only just a holstein dream<br /><br /><br /><br />And the brave young bull was hollow and old<br /><br />And his fervent heart broke and turned cold<br /><br />And the quiet realities of relationships he'd denied<br /><br />Became a cage to confine him 'til his cold heart died<br /><br />And the cows out in the alfalfa and clover<br /><br />Grazed stupidly as the cattle trucks rolled over<br /><br />They loaded each one meek as a mouse<br /><br />And drove them to the slaughterhouse<br /><br />They bred them for timidity and efficient yields<br /><br />To yearn for fleecy clouds and fertile fields<br /><br />But the pretty clouds that they had seen<br /><br />Were nothing but a holstein dream<br /><br />With catfish jumping in the river<br /><br />And warm campfires when the night shivered the trees<br /><br />With a bitter breeze shadowing the silent spring<br /><br />Nothing but a holstein dream<br /><br /><br /><br />He woke up with ice cubes in his lungs today<br /><br />He felt the sun was far away but<br /><br />He smiled and touched his young wife's neck<br /><br />The holstein dream's not over yet<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>King Boogie<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Are you the King babe<br /><br />The King of rock-n-roll<br /><br />When you died tell me<br /><br />Baby where'd you go<br /><br />A matter of pride<br /><br />Or something you don't show<br /><br />Are you the King babe<br /><br />The King of rock-n-roll<br /><br /><br /><br />Should I maybe kneel<br /><br />Kiss the ground at your feet<br /><br />Are you an angel<br /><br />Or some jerk off the street<br /><br />All your magic power<br /><br />Could not save you from defeat<br /><br />Should I kneel before you<br /><br />Kiss the ground at your feet<br /><br /><br /><br />You must be spinning baby<br /><br />Like a top inside your tomb<br /><br />Is it crowded in there<br /><br />Or is there plenty of elbow room<br /><br />How's it feel to be immortal<br /><br />Did you gracefully embrace your doom<br /><br />You must be spinning baby<br /><br />Like a top inside your tomb<br /><br /><br /><br />They use you to sell tabloids<br /><br />You must be shuddering with pride<br /><br />You once had the Midas touch<br /><br />But you were a slob the day you died<br /><br />You're a warning to your inheritors<br /><br />Who came along for the ride<br /><br />They use you to sell tabloids<br /><br />You must be shuddering with pride<br /><br /><br /><br />You've got devoted disciples now<br /><br />Baby you're on a roll<br /><br />Too bad you're beyond their worship<br /><br />It might have saved your soul<br /><br />Throw away the sequins<br /><br />But it's a belated goal<br /><br />Are you the King babe<br /><br />The King of rock-n-roll<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Safety<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I used to want to see the world<br /><br />But I never liked to fly<br /><br />I was too afraid of falling<br /><br />Down out of the sky<br /><br />Safety safety<br /><br />Build me an iron suit of armor<br /><br />Weld me in real tight<br /><br />Life in the modern world<br /><br />Doesn't feel right<br /><br /><br /><br />I took my family to the mall<br /><br />To buy them imported toys<br /><br />They deserved a special Christmas<br /><br />They'd been good girls and boys<br /><br />Safety safety<br /><br />Sears Roebuck blossomed in a fireball<br /><br />The wounded were bleeding everywhere<br /><br />If they don't start doing mandatory strip searches<br /><br />I won't be taking my family back there<br /><br /><br /><br />I'd like to live out in the sticks<br /><br />Watch the clouds and aeroplane traces<br /><br />I'd put turrets on my country home<br /><br />Shoot down strangers at thirty paces<br /><br />Safety safety<br /><br />It seems reasonable on the surface<br /><br />But I think it might spell trouble<br /><br />I'd prefer the claustrophobia but<br /><br />How long does oxygen last inside a bubble<br /><br /><br /><br />If I had a rocket ship<br /><br />We could sail away beyond detection<br /><br />And never be afraid of falling<br /><br />When up's in every direction<br /><br />Safety safety<br /><br />With tubes of meat and stockpiled Tang<br /><br />I'd laugh at the news on my TV<br /><br />My wife and kids playing magnetic Monopoly<br /><br />I'd really love my canned family<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Table Scraps<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Hear the cell song<br /><br />Keep the beat and march along<br /><br />You can't stand alone for long<br /><br />You can't resist the cell song<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm scribbling in the red-hot rain<br /><br />Peel back another layer of my brain<br /><br />So you can stick your thin steel probes in<br /><br />And map the pools of social poison<br /><br />I'm waiting on an aeroplane<br /><br />To fly away from my native pain<br /><br />And if I could I would set Estevanico's head on an iron spike<br /><br />And cut Coronado into bait-sized strips and go<br /><br />Fishing for northern pike<br /><br /><br /><br />I got blisters on my callused hands<br /><br />Catching hazardous waste balloons at Disneyland<br /><br />I dreamed of drowning but I did not worry<br /><br />In my dreams the hangman does not hurry<br /><br />General Custer came to my house looking for a place<br /><br />To make a stand and save some face but I<br /><br />Kicked him out and barred the door<br /><br />I know what he really came around for<br /><br /><br /><br />I walk by the open doors in New Orleans<br /><br />Where you can look inside and know what it all means<br /><br />And I think about Sweet Jane who really let me down<br /><br />And I wonder what kind of lover she finally found<br /><br />Richard Nixon calls me to his table and he buys me a drink<br /><br />I'm grateful but I shudder every time he speaks<br /><br />I smooth the dew off my bottle of beer<br /><br />Thinking how easily a worm like him could disappear<br /><br />In a swamp down here<br /><br /><br /><br />You can't quell the cell song<br /><br />Ring the bell and it rings on<br /><br />You can't escape the surf and roar<br /><br />Or forsake the surge and debris on the shore<br /><br />Emotion has a death-grip on life<br /><br />You'll loathe your loyal loving wife<br /><br />Encapsulated in your fading fantasy<br /><br />Captivated by the things you can't quite see<br /><br /><br /><br />You're a stone that I carried too long in my heart<br /><br />I'm tossing you out I don't want you no more<br /><br />You're a diamondback rattlesnake that's wrapped around my chest<br /><br />I guess you're the one that I love best<br /><br /><br /><br />Hear the cell song<br /><br />Keep the beat and march along<br /><br />You can't stand alone for long<br /><br />You can't resist the cell song<br /><br /><br /><br />I've got a brain that's like an onion<br /><br />It can make you cry<br /><br />On my big toe I've got a bunion<br /><br />I feel like I could die<br /><br />Mike Wallace has been talking to my friends<br /><br />I hope he's not planning some big expose<br /><br />All my enemies are looking at me<br /><br />But I'm looking the other way<br /><br /><br /><br />So you think it's time you got divorced<br /><br />You were always a push-over when it came to fashion<br /><br />No you say she's got claws in place of fingers<br /><br />And her razor teeth she's been seen gnashin'<br /><br />And her eyes have been flashin' laser beams<br /><br />And she screams like a tiger when you make love<br /><br />Tell you the truth I've heard of stranger things<br /><br />When you shot the dice what were you thinkin' of<br /><br /><br /><br />The sparks of mentholated memories bring a chill<br /><br />When I blow upon them to stoke them up<br /><br />Just black scenes of histories but I can't get my fill<br /><br />She was the sweet hemlock in my loving cup<br /><br /><br /><br />You can't quell the cell song<br /><br />Ring the bell and it rings on<br /><br />Love and anger fail as tools<br /><br />To try to bind emotion to rules<br /><br />You rationalize your fear of falling<br /><br />In God-given talent or some manufactured calling<br /><br />A child perceives only love and fear<br /><br />A man feels when the maw draws near<br /><br /><br /><br />Red crabs scuttle all over my skull<br /><br />Smoke curls 'round the towers under the moon<br /><br />Bleached bones are dancing around a harvest bonfire<br /><br />To a snazzy banjo and steel guitar<br /><br /><br /><br />The world is limned in lightning blasts<br /><br />The glory seems fitting but it never lasts<br /><br />I think of marksmen in Texas towers<br /><br />And Ophelia at the riverside looking for flowers<br /><br />I peel back my brain and pluck another orange segment<br /><br />And pop it into my mouth for your entertainment<br /><br />And if I could I surely would go back to Texas and steal her away<br /><br />And ride off into the sunset singing kai-yi-yippie-yippie-yai yippie-yai<br /><br />Kai-yi-yippie-yippie-yai<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>The Good Earth<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />He woke up he felt distraught<br /><br />His life and neck in a choking knot<br /><br />It was a noose he'd tied with pride<br /><br />Now too convoluted to be untied<br /><br />His features were sour he said nothing to his wife<br /><br />She was a chain he'd lugged around most of his life<br /><br />And his kids whom he loved more than he could say<br /><br />Were an anchoring ball that got heavier every day<br /><br />He said nothing he just went outside<br /><br />To the decaying farm where he'd brought his bride<br /><br />And he took it all in stride<br /><br />Yes he took it all inside<br /><br />This good earth is mine<br /><br />This good earth will sustain me<br /><br />This good earth will forgive me<br /><br />This good earth is my redemption<br /><br /><br /><br />He tried to milk his cow in the dawn's hue<br /><br />He fed her corn she gave back tar and glue<br /><br />He tried to shoe the horse to prevent her going lame<br /><br />She kicked him in the teeth he felt it jar his brain<br /><br />So he left to repair his protective fence<br /><br />The barbed wire bit into his hands<br /><br />Another day's damning evidence<br /><br />He could not master his own plans<br /><br />He was a control freak he was wired for life<br /><br />He was cut down by trivial pursuits<br /><br />He felt it in his temples like a knife<br /><br />He wiped his head and blood dripped his boots<br /><br />It mixed in the clay and around the crop roots<br /><br />He thought it might put up early shoots<br /><br />This good earth is mine<br /><br />This good earth will sustain me<br /><br />This good earth will forgive me<br /><br />This good earth is my redemption<br /><br /><br /><br />But he was no warden of the land<br /><br />He was an isolationist who could not arrest the blowing sand<br /><br />Or the run-off cutting down his borders<br /><br />Or time assigning his companions conflicting orders<br /><br />And as his focus narrowed and his anger unfolded<br /><br />His vision collapsed and his sense of justice exploded<br /><br />And the noose jerked him right up off his feet<br /><br />'Til he was swinging high and swinging neat<br /><br />And he prayed inside his head<br /><br />But not to God but to the land instead<br /><br />This good earth belongs to me<br /><br />This good earth only I will sustain<br /><br />This good earth I alone can maintain<br /><br />I know its wants it knows my needs<br /><br />I am soil and this good earth is me<br /><br /><br /><br />Up came the cold hands<br /><br />The hands came rising<br /><br />Up rising came the hands out of the good earth<br /><br />He could feel them around his ankles<br /><br />The weight of the world pulling at his heels<br /><br />Tight fingers clamped around his boots<br /><br />Increasing the tension of the noose<br /><br />There was no last wind<br /><br />The good earth dimmed in his eyes and the knot snapped<br /><br />It caught him in the back like a bullwhip crack<br /><br />It sucked him down in cool brown loam<br /><br />It sucked him down into a lonely narrow home<br /><br />It swallowed him up he was lost to his land of birth<br /><br />They never saw him again<br /><br />Sucked down into the good earth<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Up Here<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom<br /><br /><br /><br />up here you can see the ends of the world<br /><br />handfuls of little stars angry gods hurled down<br /><br />turning on a saddle point<br /><br />on the peeling surface between the spheres<br /><br />i can't go on but i<br /><br />can't go back<br /><br /><br /><br />i love the jealous diamonds but i can't explain<br /><br />the burning skein of pain that binds and blinds us<br /><br />tries hard to define us<br /><br />and fails so miserably<br /><br />lost in a crowded wilderness with no one here to guide us<br /><br />up here you can hear silence like a new sensation<br /><br />and the sounds of failing communication that separate that below from above<br /><br />and lovers from love<br /><br /><br /><br />i'm a joker without an audience<br /><br />i'm a fool dancing upon the ledge<br /><br />i'm edging up to a new truth<br /><br />i'm a turtle laboring in yesterday's hard shell<br /><br />i'm in a hell of a mess up here all by myself<br /><br />looking down on the wilderness<br /><br />there's no temptation now among men<br /><br />to induce me to be like them again<br /><br />up here i hear the silent wind and descend<br /><br />lobo solo like a monk who slipped the bars<br /><br />a handful of stars enshrouded in sheepskin<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>White Hat<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm one of the good guys baby<br /><br />I wear a white hat<br /><br />And if I get scared and run away<br /><br />I always come back<br /><br /><br /><br />I got a six-shooter<br /><br />And a Navajo guide<br /><br />I got a feeling it's time<br /><br />To go for a long ride<br /><br /><br /><br />You got a good reason<br /><br />To hold out for a while<br /><br />To every season<br /><br />You bring a smile<br /><br />Right now I'm freezin' but<br /><br />I can last another mile<br /><br /><br /><br />I shot down the false doctors<br /><br />Rode like the wind for the Alps<br /><br />My Navajo took their steel funnels<br /><br />In lieu of the traditional scalps<br /><br /><br /><br />A little boy in blue was holding daisies<br /><br />He bothered me he was too out of place<br /><br />Boschian fever tore my flesh like bullets<br /><br />Now I can't forget his face<br /><br /><br /><br />Animator Animator<br /><br />He's the animator<br /><br /><br /><br />I dreamed you let me in your room<br /><br />I could smell the sweet perfume<br /><br />Your big bed cool and soft like a rack<br /><br />I could feel you claw my back<br /><br />And in my moment of sanctimony<br /><br />You pulled the rope and the steel blade<br /><br />Crashed down in righteous testimony<br /><br />To the oaths we never made<br /><br /><br /><br />We got us a hide-out in the mountains baby<br /><br />We're the only ones who know where it's at<br /><br />We wait for the posse to come blasting away<br /><br />Sometimes it ain't so easy when you're wearing a white hat<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>World for Two<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />We need a brand new shining god<br /><br />Someone we can crucify<br /><br />Something we can live for<br /><br />Justify a new excuse to die<br /><br />We need a new nigredo<br /><br />Dead black bird<br /><br />Putrefaction blind and numb<br /><br />I am black but comely<br /><br />O ye daughters of Jerusalem<br /><br /><br /><br />Misty landscape of ruin and loss<br /><br />The serpent is nailed to the cross<br /><br /><br /><br />The albedo glowers in the great glass<br /><br />Transubstantiation of the white stone<br /><br />Moonshine on the crossroads<br /><br />All flesh turns to limestone<br /><br />Dark Death Valley nights<br /><br />Bright Las Vegas lights<br /><br />A man cries aloud in agony<br /><br />And bleeds white light into an alley<br /><br />Wagon wheels and skeletons of mules<br /><br />Pale bones in the moonlight<br /><br />Swirling curl of bauxite<br /><br /><br /><br />Red dawn rubedo<br /><br />Libation and cibation<br /><br />Sublimation<br /><br />Consecration<br /><br />Fermentation<br /><br />Exaltation<br /><br />Projection<br /><br />Yod He Vau He<br /><br />Let us meet together at the cafe<br /><br />You come to me then you turn away<br /><br /><br /><br />And I've got to get back<br /><br />To New Orleans<br /><br />I've got to recover<br /><br />The febrile dreams<br /><br />O Dreaming City<br /><br />You are not Tereu<br /><br />O Dreaming City DA<br /><br />You are behind mine eyes<br /><br />Flicker of the pale skies<br /><br />You are wise<br /><br />Be with me always<br /><br />Always be with me<br /><br />DA DA DA DA<br /><br /><br /><br />A world for two<br /><br />I envision a world for two<br /><br />And everything else is just a backdrop for our amusement<br /><br />My universe is big enough for just the two of us<br /><br />We are the one thing<br /><br />We are the god<br /><br />Alchemy transforms this power<br /><br />Into the philosopher's stone<br /><br />A world for two<br /><br />A world for two<br /><br />A world for two<br /><br />No revolution that's all been done before<br /><br />You and me<br /><br />A world for two<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Crushing Life<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Aren't we all the same<br /><br />Nothing seems to change<br /><br />2000 years of progress<br /><br />The suffering remains<br /><br /><br /><br />To me you're an art-lover<br /><br />I'm a nest-builder to you<br /><br />Your secrets I won't uncover<br /><br />My facts just bewilder you<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm a dust mote<br /><br />I'm a fly speck<br /><br />You're my goddess<br /><br />What d'you expect<br /><br /><br /><br />I feel the same way you do<br /><br />You feel like I do too<br /><br />A neuron in the universe fires<br /><br />An opportunity missed, a life expires<br /><br /><br /><br />Just to make you smile a while<br /><br />That's my only plan<br /><br />One taste of your parting lips<br /><br />Just to brush your hand<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm a spark in the dark<br /><br />Of the pressing millennia<br /><br />I'm a broken piece of night<br /><br />That can't be reassembled right<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm being slowly crushed to dust<br /><br />Under the weight of God<br /><br />I might last another fifty years<br /><br />If I survive your loves and fears<br /><br />If I can kiss away your tears<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Dark Design<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />dark side dark side<br /><br />coils of fear<br /><br />you are ever near<br /><br />keeping friends and other strangers<br /><br />at a distance<br /><br />an evil sentence to amend<br /><br />original sin<br /><br />take this example that it<br /><br />never happen again<br /><br /><br /><br />so you're finding it difficult to get close to me<br /><br />i'll hand you no excuses there's more here than meets the eye<br /><br />i contain and control a hurricane<br /><br />product of a dark side<br /><br />with more moving parts engaging<br /><br />than i'd ever have designed<br /><br />had the design been mine<br /><br /><br /><br />raging silence<br /><br />mad to control<br /><br />mental assault<br /><br />psychological dismemberment blow by blow<br /><br />shut up shut up<br /><br />hold your tongue<br /><br />the peter pan curse you shall stay<br /><br />forever young<br /><br /><br /><br />most people can escape it<br /><br />let it slide though it rises now and then<br /><br />but i can't subjugate it<br /><br />it's central to my self-knowledge<br /><br />believe me when i tell you<br /><br />i stand before you without defense and powerless<br /><br />don't fish too deeply beneath the surface<br /><br />you'll catch a monster eager to devour us<br /><br /><br /><br />coiling spring in the darkness<br /><br />is there no savior now among us<br /><br />whence springs sorrow there founts hope<br /><br />tightening spring tension building<br /><br />the determination and the danger that you bring<br /><br /><br /><br />to die to sleep<br /><br />to sleep perchance to dream<br /><br />ay there's the rub<br /><br />for in that sleep of death what dreams may come<br /><br />when we have shuffled off this mortal coil<br /><br />must give us pause<br /><br />there's the respect that makes calamity<br /><br />of so long life<br /><br /><br /><br />pulleys gears springs and levers<br /><br />a complicated dark design<br /><br />behind a paranoid fleeting glimpse<br /><br />severed young from self-confidence<br /><br />pitiful soul-carvers with notched knives<br /><br />pre-empting lives thrust futures aside<br /><br />leaving blinded men with patchwork plans<br /><br />to construct self-destructive dark sides<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Get Away<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />From the complicated noise that surrounds you<br /><br />There's all these faces<br /><br />In all these places<br /><br />Monitoring every gambit you pursue<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />From the values these strangers embrace<br /><br />There's a woman in fine clothes<br /><br />White line under her nose<br /><br />Laughing at our lack of grace<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />From these angry streets<br /><br />Horns are honking<br /><br />Nothing's more shocking<br /><br />Than my list of defeats<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />The party's much too phony for me<br /><br />The beautiful people I trusted<br /><br />Have corroded and rusted<br /><br />Under thin veneers of piety<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />Before they throw us out of here<br /><br />Makes 'em feel so smart<br /><br />Pulling us apart<br /><br />Their motives are much too clear<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />Better split while the splitting's good<br /><br />My spirit's fading to gray<br /><br />Time slips away<br /><br />You know you said you would if you could<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />Guess I gotta chose a track to ride upon<br /><br />Don't dreams always come true<br /><br />In ways mysterious to you<br /><br />Tell me baby whose side are you on<br /><br /><br /><br />It's time to get away now baby<br /><br />Chisel some rules to guide us<br /><br />Come along for the ride<br /><br />Baby stick by my side<br /><br />There's no future that's denied us<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Inside Out<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />how do you take it<br /><br />you take it inside<br /><br />when there's no place to run to<br /><br />take it inside<br /><br />shuffling your deck of faces<br /><br />take it inside<br /><br />but when you're out in public<br /><br />you're laughing on the outside<br /><br />shriveling like a prune inside<br /><br /><br /><br />we're not like those other people<br /><br />we're strong enough to take it inside<br /><br />maybe they know something about love<br /><br />but we're blue chip certified about pride<br /><br />the hard kind that shelters you inside<br /><br />slip into a shark skin shirt<br /><br />and smile so they can see the teeth<br /><br />infect them with your own rotten doubt<br /><br />turn their secret nightmares inside out<br /><br /><br /><br />world's a deadly place deadly place<br /><br />gotta take it inside<br /><br />no one out there you can trust<br /><br />take it inside<br /><br />don't show no emotion<br /><br />anything you say will be used against you<br /><br />though sometimes the loneliness might seem too much to bear<br /><br />the worst sin you can commit is to show you care<br /><br />suck in your gut and bury your doubt<br /><br />or your weakness will turn you<br /><br />inside out<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Quietude<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Ignorant armies clash by night<br /><br />To alter the face of confusion<br /><br />But tonight in recession I begin to perceive<br /><br />Accomplishment as time-compressed illusion<br /><br />Waiting in a dim room beneath my chair<br /><br />I can feel the silent blue falling sphere<br /><br />And the years starlight spanned steel-ice space<br /><br />To slam into my balcony rail<br /><br />With no one there<br /><br />So please hear me tonight<br /><br />Let me in don't question me<br /><br />Let me near you<br /><br />Don't fear me<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm too tired and too detached to fight<br /><br />I'm too numb to your quick observation<br /><br />A cloud in a spoon with no sensation<br /><br />Meaningful matters bear me no relation<br /><br />I'm not out to make you happy<br /><br />I'm looking for no saving grace<br /><br />But I would crawl six miles across the sun<br /><br />Just to see your face<br /><br /><br /><br />Big silent sphere roll on<br /><br />Hollow church bells toll on<br /><br />Silent melancholy mutating patina<br /><br />The filters are gone<br /><br />The soap film has all blown away<br /><br />Tonight I want to hold you but I<br /><br />Want you in this slow way<br /><br /><br /><br />And I, the solitary scarecrow in a friendly disguise<br /><br />And you, the only God I recognize<br /><br />No other faith I keep<br /><br />Now I lay me<br /><br />Down to sleep<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Texcoco<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I come to fight<br /><br />I come to die<br /><br />Flashing obsidian swords cut the gray sky<br /><br />Singing slicing up the wind<br /><br />Calf-deep in black mud<br /><br />The long feather-worked banner<br /><br />Shimmers like a hummingbird<br /><br />Quetzalcóatl<br /><br />And thick-spurting purple blood<br /><br />Coils thinly in the sucking mud<br /><br /><br /><br />I've seen all these places<br /><br />In another time<br /><br />Lifeless blocks of stoic faces<br /><br />Priests in filthy robes with knotted hair<br /><br />I've lived this better life somewhere<br /><br />I've known this seductive dream of better days<br /><br />Better times and better men<br /><br />Other disasters and other ways<br /><br />Every dream must end<br /><br /><br /><br />Lightning licking overhead<br /><br />Rain and mud and blood and thunder<br /><br />I come searching for<br /><br />A new wonder<br /><br />Battle cries over my city<br /><br />Sacred city<br /><br />Mighty city on the burning lake<br /><br />But the gods forsake my city<br /><br />My city's torn asunder<br /><br />The white-skinned infidels plunder<br /><br />Leveling the past as the<br /><br />Feathery serpent foretold<br /><br />A curse to kill a living dream<br /><br />A fever for glittering gold<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>Road to Heaven<br /></b><br /></i><br /><br />Copyright 1989, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />The whole place just blew bloody up<br /><br />Who do you suppose planted that stink bomb<br /><br />Soon the cops will come running<br /><br />And firemen still pulling asbestos jeans on<br /><br />Some moon-jumping cow knows how<br /><br />If she don't know how then she knows something<br /><br />We were twisting at the reception<br /><br />The band playing a pretty lame version of<br /><br />"Changing of the Guards"<br /><br />The world fell five feet away from me<br /><br />I trod on your train and caused a big stink<br /><br />But you give me a wink cos<br /><br />You know what I'm thinking<br /><br /><br /><br />Plaster powder's raining on the groom's family<br /><br />A mini-series riot right out of NBC<br /><br />There goes the punch bowl see the yellow peach slices splashing<br /><br />Those ain't no peaches babe but no one else is laughing<br /><br />You can catch big mouth bass with bait like that<br /><br />You know where it's at<br /><br /><br /><br />The bride's maids are all rolling tumbling down the aisle<br /><br />Stick around you'll see the Pied Piper in a little while<br /><br />Honey your groom's off trying to take control of a difficult ordeal<br /><br />I've just about got the window open so come join me on the sill<br /><br />Now here comes the best man with your garter in his hand<br /><br />Some things you're better off not contemplating<br /><br />How much longer you gonna keep us all waiting<br /><br />Now some kids are looking my way<br /><br />The road to salvation's hard to follow but my route is shorter<br /><br />This situation's getting too dangerous so<br /><br />Here goes a roll of quarters<br /><br /><br /><br />Riding to Heaven on a Guernsey<br /><br />Sometimes your irresolution just burns me up<br /><br />What's up pup<br /><br />Where do you want to be next June<br /><br />Where shall we spend your honeymoon<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-4849253126397091945?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-21978840187756631992011-10-19T23:56:00.000-07:002011-10-19T23:56:04.141-07:00<div align="left"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Two Untitled Verses</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1981, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />1.<br /><br /><br /><br />We hate ogres, and they hate we.<br /><br />We kill ogres very carefully.<br /><br />We stack their heads in pyramids.<br /><br />We find their lairs and kill their kids.<br /><br /><br /><br />2.<br /><br /><br /><br />Dianel was an Ungodly King:<br /><br />Of him the kindly sadly sing.<br /><br />The last to rule great lands in Fear<br /><br />Between the mud flats and the mere.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>The Wisp's Destruction</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />"Heed the will-o'-wisp!" said adventurer wise,<br /><br />he called Guldo of the Staff.<br /><br />"Think twice before answering fearful maiden cries,<br /><br />for to do otherwise would prove you daft.<br /><br /><br /><br />"In mires they dwell, making most realistic imitation<br /><br />of errant venturers astray in the wilderness.<br /><br />And the unsuspecting soul who seeks this apparition,<br /><br />his company his wiser companions will shortly miss."<br /><br /><br /><br />Upon hearing these words the healer named Metless<br /><br />trembled uncontrollably, for such was his way<br /><br />of reacting to such news which, as you might guess<br /><br />always resulted in his acting quite fey.<br /><br /><br /><br />Elladan i-Arturian, a foppish man of letters,<br /><br />self-proclaimed worker of magic, well-constructed in the head,<br /><br />completely failed to respond to the lore of his betters,<br /><br />being already in fact quite predictably dead.<br /><br /><br /><br />In the martial arts Anarion by no man was exceeded<br /><br />but by Tholcrist, who was rumored an Archer for a God.<br /><br />Anarion shuddered in his boots and imprecations uttered,<br /><br />whilst of the end of the will-o-wisp Tholcrist mildly thought.<br /><br /><br /><br />In snowy forest most cold and crisp<br /><br />forayed we were by fiendish beast<br /><br />contesting our journey south to east.<br /><br />But under the standard of Furble the Bold,<br /><br />who single-handedly (or so we are told)<br /><br />saved our lives and procured gemstones rare,<br /><br />for he alone slayed after finding its lair<br /><br />the dreadful will-o'-wisp!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Curse Him</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />We were eight<br /><br />Hot on the trail<br /><br />Of the source<br /><br />Of our dreams.<br /><br />Far from our homes<br /><br /><br /><br />Seeking our fate.<br /><br />For should we fail,<br /><br />We would perforce<br /><br />Fall short of our schemes<br /><br />To save the entire world.<br /><br /><br /><br />But in debate<br /><br />Did we later wrangle,<br /><br />For, of course,<br /><br />We were imperiled<br /><br />By gnolls and gnomes.<br /><br /><br /><br />Upon a dark horse<br /><br />Brightly and richly detailed<br /><br />Under black of night he roams,<br /><br />Neither more nor less than he seems.<br /><br />Zangulv he's called, worker of wrong,<br /><br />Taker of lives, petrifier,<br /><br />Vampire, friend of will-o'-wisp!<br /><br /><br /><br />Here now I end my song,<br /><br />But not before prior I tell of nights cold and crisp,<br /><br />When Zangulv invaded and plundered,<br /><br />And all that rhymes is "wondered". . . .<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Fifteen More Uses for an RFD</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />1. Its obvious use (i.e., its intended use)<br /><br />2. Kills bedbugs<br /><br />3. Tricks highwaymen<br /><br />4. Gong<br /><br />5. Target for shot-putting<br /><br />6. Attracts monsters worth many experience points (see #4)<br /><br />7. Fab hubcaps for wagons<br /><br />8. Iron source<br /><br />9. Conversation piece<br /><br />10. Jelly bean dish<br /><br />11. It's magic (see #3)<br /><br />12. Easily connected with metal poles<br /><br />13. Use to signal aircraft, once they're invented<br /><br />14. Gambling (land up or down)<br /><br />15. Bird bath<br /><br /><br /><br />[A/N: "Rabbit Food Dish."]<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Bloody, Bloody Home</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />From distant lands did I set sail<br /><br />With courageous fem in bikini chain-mail<br /><br />Upon dreary seashore I did assail<br /><br />And proceed to nuke a bloody whale<br /><br /><br /><br />Back, back, take me back<br /><br />To my bloody, bloody home.<br /><br />Adventuring reeks, it rots, it stinks,<br /><br />And I can't stand sleeping alone!<br /><br /><br /><br />Later that night we were assailed<br /><br />For my servant once again had failed<br /><br />Yet in spite of all I was not paled<br /><br />For then the fifty trolls I nailed<br /><br /><br /><br />Back, back, take me back<br /><br />To my bloody, bloody home.<br /><br />Adventuring reeks, it rots, it stinks,<br /><br />And I can't stand sleeping alone!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Hobbits</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Hobbits are a distinguished race.<br /><br />When men's ways fail they set the pace.<br /><br />They eat fairy-cakes and drink popcorn wine,<br /><br />and they smoke weeds in pipes and write a line<br /><br />or two when the days are peaceful and calm,<br /><br />and nothing rhymes with that.<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam is a hobbit brave:<br /><br />he dwells in a house, not in a cave.<br /><br />Furble picks locks and that's not all;<br /><br />and he's short: he's not too tall.<br /><br />Periatan is his son, an assassin in training<br /><br />who walks in Malandris, sunny or raining.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>The Unpublished Guldo, Pt. 1</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />There was a young cleric named Metis<br /><br />Who found profound urge to eat lettuce.<br /><br />In this idiosyncrasy we obliged him,<br /><br />But later came to despise him,<br /><br />As once when excited he wet us.<br /><br /><br /><br />Anarion was a fighter from Marcus<br /><br />Who made many a foe a carcass.<br /><br />But one night we learned him a cad,<br /><br />Being most wicked and evil and bad,<br /><br />Secretly sampling slain Boojumus snarkus.<br /><br /><br /><br />There was a professional called Elladan<br /><br />Who was omni-inferior in all the land.<br /><br />He searched for Serah,<br /><br />But committed so many faux pas<br /><br />That the Arch-Mage soon made him un-manned.<br /><br /><br /><br />Once there was a thief so famous<br /><br />D.E. held him most crafty and heinous.<br /><br />Furble rose up after ale and meal,<br /><br />And with holy wrath and a good blade of steel,<br /><br />Stabbed Mr. D.E. proficiently in the anus.<br /><br /><br /><br />Atanimir was a sorcerer of such renown<br /><br />His tale was told in every town<br /><br />Concerning how he conjured a majickal mist<br /><br />(Some say by spell; some say he. . . .well, you get the picture)<br /><br />And so blinded Bahamut and brought him down.<br /><br /><br /><br />There was an introspective warrior called Drest<br /><br />Who loved all women for their personalities.<br /><br />He took him no wife,<br /><br />Yet led a thrillic life,<br /><br />Taking it on the run.<br /><br /><br /><br />There was a young lad called Micky<br /><br />Who wore hoods to conceal a hicky.<br /><br />He ever denied it,<br /><br />But we all realized it:<br /><br />An invisible dryad traveled always with Micky.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>The Unpublished Guldo, Pt. 2</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Allaman was a clerical lord<br /><br />Called "Sir" by some; by others "Gourd"<br /><br />Of his talents Allaman was quite proud,<br /><br />But with a burning spirit he was endowed,<br /><br />And his opinions were generally ignored.<br /><br /><br /><br />Drest will be an Elven-King<br /><br />Of whom the harpies merrily shall sing.<br /><br />The first whose realm will be fair and free<br /><br />Between Marcus and the Sea.<br /><br /><br /><br />Elladan sat alone on his seat of stone<br /><br />And mumbled that he was all alone;<br /><br />As for magic, he wished he had it,<br /><br />But wit is hard to come by:<br /><br />Done by! Gum by!<br /><br />Upon a knoll he sat alone,<br /><br />And wit is hard to come by.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Lines</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I regarded the lines drawn on the page,<br /><br />Constructed there by a learned sage<br /><br />In the lore of stars and every planet,<br /><br />And so disdained my trade of Mage.<br /><br /><br /><br />Each star spun round like a dizzy hornet,<br /><br />Like a nest of sparks and one had fanned it.<br /><br />A famous astrologer he was, no man wiser,<br /><br />Except They as built it all and planned it.<br /><br /><br /><br />Despite the fact that I already despised her,<br /><br />She the Wise is proved a pretender to be a miser,<br /><br />Reluctant to reveal her most profound thought,<br /><br />In fact less learned than that astrologer and scrier.<br /><br /><br /><br />I regarded the lines prognostication-fraught,<br /><br />And none may declare me a liar.<br /><br />Their like I have ever since sought,<br /><br />But in this world such skill's accessible not.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Sasquatch</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Sasquatch is tall and furry.<br /><br />He has big teeth and feet.<br /><br />Sometimes he's in a hurry,<br /><br />Sometimes combed, and neat.<br /><br /><br /><br />He eats both bread and meat,<br /><br />And sometimes on people he feeds.<br /><br />He makes his gum by chewing wheat.<br /><br />He garnishes his meals with weeds.<br /><br /><br /><br />He wears a tie and tweeds.<br /><br />He picnics in the falling rain.<br /><br />He stares at sesame seeds<br /><br />And at water going down the drain.<br /><br /><br /><br />He thinks that life's a pain,<br /><br />But we all know the truth.<br /><br />We are sayers of sooth<br /><br />Who proclaim Sasquatch uncouth.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>The Retreat</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Zap! Snap! the wise crack!<br /><br />Stab, slay! Jab, flay!<br /><br />And let us march us back to Marcus<br /><br />You go, you cad!<br /><br /><br /><br />Run, run! Under moon and sun!<br /><br />Move those feet or feel the beat!<br /><br />To a place more merry across the prairie!<br /><br />Ho, ho! you cad!<br /><br /><br /><br />Pound, bump! Squirm and jump!<br /><br />Move along and sing our song!<br /><br />Faster, faster! or else disaster!<br /><br />While we beat the dirt and you get hurt<br /><br />To a place more merry across the prairie!<br /><br />Below, you cad!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Three Warriors</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Crews an Elf is a reckless man,<br /><br />Preferring flame to frying pan.<br /><br />A berserker with a heart of gold,<br /><br />Or maybe of silver, or perhaps, we are told,<br /><br />Of brass, or of copper, and indeed it may very well be<br /><br />That his heroic heart's wrought of some lesser alloy.<br /><br /><br /><br />Alan wields a mighty sword,<br /><br />So fantastic we know he could never afford<br /><br />To have purchased it, or have had it wrought.<br /><br />But we think it odd its true owner has not<br /><br />Sought out this weapon, famed bringer of pain<br /><br />(Unless he was by the blade's thief slain).<br /><br /><br /><br />Herzboz can any man or Halfling lick<br /><br />Unless he's very, very sick.<br /><br />We like to ride with him on a boat.<br /><br />He looses his cool, and up his throat<br /><br />Explodes his breakfast and yesterday's dinner,<br /><br />And poor old 'Boz looks green and thinner.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Hxpxnrd Heroes Like General Vrxndizehn</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />In the year 3014 A.D.<br /><br />The world almost ended in an<br /><br />Atomic catastrophe.<br /><br /><br /><br />But some men in Peru survived,<br /><br />As did some kiwis in New Zealand,<br /><br />Although they emerged from the<br /><br />Catastrophe in a highly mutated form.<br /><br /><br /><br />Although they became intelligent,<br /><br />They also became excruciatingly<br /><br />Ugly.<br /><br /><br /><br />When the men from Peru found them<br /><br />Some six thousand years later, the<br /><br />Mutated kiwis, which now called themselves the<br /><br />Hxpxnrds, became the recipients, or<br /><br />Butts, of many cruel Peruvian insults and Jokes.<br /><br /><br /><br />As a result, the Hxpxnrds took up arms and<br /><br />Destroyed every last man, but their rule was<br /><br />Short-lived, as two years later the sun<br /><br />Became a red giant, and they<br /><br />All perished.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Acme Mung Killing Boots</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright c. 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Perspective:<br /><br />Use it or<br /><br />Lose it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Drawing Straws</strong></em><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright c. 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Phasepants<br /><br />Should put many fighters<br /><br />In the room --<br /><br /><br /><br />If his towel<br /><br />Is with him.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Mortem Confundet Magus</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright c. 1982, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />"They were in the wrong place<br /><br />at the wrong time. Naturally,<br /><br />they became torqued."<br /><br /><br /><br />- Attributed by Furble Gardner<br /><br />(probably erroneously) to one<br /><br />General Nggullgth,<br /><br />King of the Twits.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>A Tribute to Shantakart</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1983, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Shantakar was a ma-gi-cian.<br /><br />I sed it once; I'll say it again.<br /><br />Shantakar was a ma-gi-cian.<br /><br />I sed it twice; I'll say it again.<br /><br />Shantakar was a ma-gi-cian.<br /><br />I sed it thrice; but ne'er again.<br /><br />He's dead now, as he bit the big'un.<br /><br />When we think of him we miss'im.<br /><br />He used magic and other substanci.<br /><br />Now we pay less for our sustenanci.<br /><br />I knew some slugs and nasty Cleeks.<br /><br />Disc-gos suck and magic reeks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Grubs</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1983, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I seen this cow, she had no leggses<br /><br />When she grazed, she grazed on peggses<br /><br />A blow fly accosted her bovine self<br /><br />And she weren't in the best of bloody health<br /><br /><br /><br />She done got grubs along her back<br /><br />Which made her cough and made her hack<br /><br />They wouldn't let her in the best of pubs<br /><br />On account of her bout with the bloody grubs<br /><br /><br /><br />The veterinarian used her as a model<br /><br />They popped the grubs out in a bottle<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Like, the Nuke Song, 'Ey?</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1983, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Nuke the bleedin' twits, 'ey?<br /><br />Nukem where they sits, 'ey?<br /><br />Givem nervous fits, 'ey?<br /><br />Blowem t'bloody bits, 'ey?<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm like standin' in a city, 'ey?<br /><br />I'm like hummin' m'little ditty, 'ey?<br /><br />I ne'er wannet t'be an hero, 'ey?<br /><br />So why'm I standin' at ground zero, 'ey?<br /><br /><br /><br />So like, the hoseheads are lobbin' nukes, what?<br /><br />But like, I've put up my dukes, what?<br /><br />Them fallin' bombs I seen, what?<br /><br />Now I'm all scaly and green, what?<br /><br /><br /><br />So like, take off to the great bright north.<br /><br />So like, take off: it's a beauty way to glow.<br /><br />So like, take off to the great bright north.<br /><br />So like, take off: it's a beauty way to glow.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'm like a bleeding mutant, hail I say.<br /><br />A total natural refutant, hail I say, but what?<br /><br />I'd like frighten little tykes, flail all night and day, 'ey?<br /><br />But they got blown off their bloody trikes, assail all day butt rot, 'ey?<br /><br /><br /><br />Hail, hail to the civ-i-ale.<br /><br />Hail, hail, but hail.<br /><br />Hail, hail, all Human beans must fail.<br /><br />Hail, holy grail.<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. physics sucks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Duck Raja</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1983, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />We've sn'er sassed a more towelless frood<br /><br />than that dimwit Serah dude.<br /><br />He punches doggies and that's not all.<br /><br />The Furb's a short one, but Anarion's tall.<br /><br />Crews is reckless as a moose<br /><br />drinking juice in a caboose.<br /><br />Yareth mounts dragons - claims 'tis keen.<br /><br />Allaman's snosey, Metless mean.<br /><br />We hate orgres, we hate rats,<br /><br />we hate desert breaker cats,<br /><br />we hate fishing, we hate grubs,<br /><br />we hate hobbits who sing in tubs.<br /><br />We like Springsteen and Dire Straits.<br /><br />We like tarts with group discount rates.<br /><br />We play poker in dead of snight<br /><br />and look a fright in morning light.<br /><br />We hate adventures, we hate peas,<br /><br />we hate when we skin our snees.<br /><br />We talk to trees, we talk to squirrels,<br /><br />we talk to very little girls<br /><br />We talk and talk, we kibitz,<br /><br />we play tiddley-winks and pick-up-sticks.<br /><br />We kill dragons, we snuke whales,<br /><br />we kick it and boogie when it hails.<br /><br />We speak Elfish hour after hour,<br /><br />we speak Demonish and e'en Flower.<br /><br />"Hail," we say, "but who are we,<br /><br />but kind-hearted adventurers journeying meekly"<br /><br />Snowles are fiendish and sno less,<br /><br />and I'll bet that you can guess<br /><br />that Baal is King and Raja's rich,<br /><br />Mr. A bit it and Heckhate's a witch.<br /><br />Hostages go.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Make Muffins, Not Love</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1983, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />There came from Mucus an assassin<br /><br />whose name was Bahir Ali-Hassan.<br /><br />As a child he made pies,<br /><br />under Mucus' fair burnt orange skies,<br /><br />of mud,<br /><br />using Mucus dirt and his former<br /><br />play-fellow's blood.<br /><br /><br /><br />Q. What's worse than having to go on a wretched adventure?<br /><br />A. Yareth's cooking.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Bragi's Harp</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />In Asgaard where sit the Twelve as One<br /><br />Among them doest King Bragi dwell<br /><br />Reflecting quietly on all that's done<br /><br />And an be rais'd strife or hearts burn<br /><br />With temper'd song weaves he a spell<br /><br />Fit e'en sublime heads to turn<br /><br />T'attend his lulling craft<br /><br />And rethink revenge and senseless wrath<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Cedo's Queen</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Around the glowing coals they rested,<br /><br />warm air devoid of smoke contested.<br /><br />While zephyrs stirred up frigid gales<br /><br />old legends all their attention arrested.<br /><br />Stories they told, tales of dead whales,<br /><br />of festering blubber-suet in the dales,<br /><br />and of messy pratfalls they grinning jested.<br /><br /><br /><br />Then forth came she, fell sorceress,<br /><br />most steady of brow would all confess:<br /><br />the Lady Peggy, gloomy Cedo's Queen,<br /><br />of arcane Forces of Dread possessed.<br /><br />All poise they lost when she was seen.<br /><br />There trod one drawing powers from between<br /><br />both the more occult, and less.<br /><br /><br /><br />Cruel spells she cast and all who heard<br /><br />Dark Peggy's smooth and silken word<br /><br />were quick to tender service bold<br /><br />that would balk even lowest scavenger bird:<br /><br />to dare most horrid putrefiers and mold,<br /><br />to face zombie Cetacean and strive to hold<br /><br />down breakfast, lunch and last meal third.<br /><br /><br /><br />To littoral sands they came, charmed whalers brave.<br /><br />Their services nobly and freely they gave.<br /><br />At bones they tugged, yellow maggots crunching:<br /><br />in the high name of Science did they thus behave.<br /><br />They hauled at flesh, no thought of lunching.<br /><br />Green entrails they bared, loops billowing, bunching.<br /><br />They waded in its sloshing grave.<br /><br /><br /><br />No earthly shower that smell could quench.<br /><br />They nursed dark thoughts of Cedo's witch.<br /><br />For though Peggy had pleaded Athena's case,<br /><br />and encouraged them in the foul and oozing stench,<br /><br />not once had she joined them in that task so base<br /><br />to save dead bones from Neptune's surging race,<br /><br />though she confiscated the ossicles to the very last inch.<br /><br /><br /><br />They made to depart in rancid odor girt,<br /><br />to put behind them goo-thick pools and dirt.<br /><br />Queen Peggy made her last good-byes,<br /><br />tempting with hex, their will to subvert.<br /><br />But they knew that behind the guise<br /><br />of fair-seeming words lurked even more evil lies,<br /><br />and a sales pitch for an over-priced Cedo shirt.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Some Lines About Bulls</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Sometimes I wonder when I sit and rest<br /><br />if ever mankind might pass the test.<br /><br />We race against time but don't see a goal:<br /><br />vision like that of Mister Mole.<br /><br />For all our brains and intellect fine<br /><br />are we truly much better than the kine?<br /><br />For even mere bulls could overrun the Earth<br /><br />given unchecked exponential birth<br /><br />with death reduced to an acceptable rate.<br /><br />Then foolish bulls could attain this fate.<br /><br />But then the bulls would no longer thrive,<br /><br />there being a struggle to survive<br /><br />in a universe finite in goods of worth,<br /><br />as we find on Mother Earth.<br /><br /><br /><br />Any Heaven is mankind's to make:<br /><br />social reform - no moral foundation to shake.<br /><br />But with some men more holy, more beloved of God<br /><br />we'll never be blessed with minds open and broad.<br /><br />With the decent off tolling on Sunday school bells<br /><br />I think it more likely we'll just make us more Hells.<br /><br />Given ken even dumb bulls might better appreciate<br /><br />the responsibility of close management of life's fate.<br /><br />They might even cooperate and consolidate their wit<br /><br />and make a Utopia - not just more bullshit.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Lines on Tines</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />There's no mistake - you have to yourk<br /><br />when someone gags you with a fork.<br /><br /><br /><br />Honeybee lycanthropy<br /><br />is (thank God) a rarity,<br /><br />and a werity.<br /><br /><br /><br />Werewolves and vampires flee from fires<br /><br />while fey kings flock to funeral pyres,<br /><br />and dead men glance up from the mires.<br /><br />Hearken to the zombie choirs:<br /><br />"There's no mistake - you have to yourk<br /><br />when someone gags you with a fork."<br /><br /><br /><br />Utensil symmetry: a shaft, four tines.<br /><br />Admire the grace, the beauty, lines.<br /><br />What were the hopes, the fears, designs<br /><br />of the poster of bills, of badges, signs?<br /><br />Power, energy to control,<br /><br />and laminatory rolls just to unroll.<br /><br />Ogres and fiends, even Mister Troll<br /><br />all cry out loud from Hell below:<br /><br /><br /><br />"There's no mistake! You have to yourk<br /><br />when someone gags you with a fork!"<br /><br /><br /><br />[A/N: A couple of rum &amp; Eegees, 'ey?]<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>The JE Refugee</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />I was worried deep inside,<br /><br />but I nursed my wounded pride:<br /><br />so many times I'd already tried<br /><br />to warn them.<br /><br />But fear drew closer every day,<br /><br />and I had to find some way<br /><br />to make them hear the words I'd say<br /><br />that might save us.<br /><br />So I put on my tie,<br /><br />and I had my last try<br /><br />at convincing them.<br /><br /><br /><br />Listen gentlemen to my finds.<br /><br />I know that you will change your minds<br /><br />when you've seen the portentous signs<br /><br />in my data.<br /><br />You all know Jupiter's far away,<br /><br />but I've rechecked the math every day<br /><br />since our last meeting in early May<br /><br />in North Dakota.<br /><br />Well they looked at me like I was crazy,<br /><br />and they shook their heads, annoyed,<br /><br />and they ignored my graphs.<br /><br /><br /><br />September's end drew more near<br /><br />but no disaster did appear,<br /><br />and they all laughed, but my fear<br /><br />only intensified.<br /><br />In October the first shudder was felt,<br /><br />a tremor crossing equatorial belt.<br /><br />Loosing hands we all were dealt<br /><br />from the heavens.<br /><br />Well I fled into the mountains:<br /><br />a refugee from the wreck<br /><br />of the Jupiter Effect.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Lines from Outer Space</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />In days of old a story were told<br /><br />in Elvarie village, fortress, skating rink,<br /><br />and, indeed, next to the sink,<br /><br />of an heinous beast<br /><br />(which were to say the least),<br /><br />that filled all lands with dread.<br /><br />None peace might they find in hamlet<br /><br />(or lamb) till that beast were dead.<br /><br /><br /><br />When this creature fell<br /><br />heard her life the Elvarie would quell<br /><br />she decided to have some fun,<br /><br />and set out on daring plan to run.<br /><br />So inspired were said plan,<br /><br />it were tremendously successful throughout Elvon-land:<br /><br />by seduction when she were able<br /><br />(and oft by force, in pig-stable),<br /><br />she proceeded to spread her dread.<br /><br /><br /><br />(And that's not all.)<br /><br /><br /><br />King Dave's head were filled with dread.<br /><br />Elvarie molested, yet strangely none were dead.<br /><br />A malady once rare implanted among them,<br /><br />which once rooted none might stem.<br /><br />'Twas thus the Elvarie were lost then,<br /><br />for all themselves terrible were human.<br /><br /><br /><br />Now, their fate were wretched, but they knew<br /><br />that into it they'd put their shoe,<br /><br />and that better were human than submit to such rule.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />[A/N: A translation into the semi-intelligible of an original work by the Unknown Poet, called "Lines From Somewhere."]<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Algae on My Mind</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />They say we need the MX.<br /><br />They say we need the cruise.<br /><br />They say we need to brush our tweed<br /><br />and scrape our muddy shoes.<br /><br />We need more elevators,<br /><br />and another shopping mall.<br /><br />We need less preen, more dental hygiene,<br /><br />more lymphocytes and gall.<br /><br />Bu I simply can't keep track<br /><br />of how far we've fallen behind.<br /><br />Can you relate? I can't concentrate -<br /><br />I've got algae on my mind.<br /><br />Oh, algae on my mind,<br /><br />oh, algae on my mind.<br /><br />I can never find<br /><br />how we've fallen so far behind,<br /><br />cos I've got algae on my mind.<br /><br /><br /><br />Have you seen the coils<br /><br />in the cloverleaf?<br /><br />They turn and twist,<br /><br />some truth we've missed:<br /><br />they give me no relief.<br /><br />But I simply cannot keep my thoughts<br /><br />focused all the time.<br /><br />These roads at last are chloroplasts:<br /><br />Spirogyra on my mind.<br /><br />Oh, algae on my mind,<br /><br />oh, algae on my mind.<br /><br />When will I ever find<br /><br />just how far we've moved behind?<br /><br />I've got algae on my mind.<br /><br /><br /><br />At dinner at night,<br /><br />oh, what a fright!<br /><br />I gaze into my plate:<br /><br />it galls, it galls,<br /><br />they're all end walls,<br /><br />and each is replicate!<br /><br />I flee in terror, I seek to dissolve<br /><br />my attention in a football game.<br /><br />I pray for rest in that glass breast,<br /><br />but too soon it's all the same.<br /><br />It's a forward pass, the run is good,<br /><br />six points and now two more,<br /><br />but with the close-up I understood:<br /><br /><br /><br />the ball's a zygospore!<br /><br /><br /><br />Oh, algae on my mind,<br /><br />oh, algae on my mind.<br /><br />It's the only truth I find<br /><br />when I've got algae on my mind.<br /><br />Algae,<br /><br />oh, algae,<br /><br />oh, algae:<br /><br />algae on my mind.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Slime</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Bleah. . . .<br /><br />Le bléah.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Shergar</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright c. 1984, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Woop tee-do,<br /><br />Woop tee-dee.<br /><br />I put some shergar<br /><br />In my tea.<br /><br />Magic Reeks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Magenta Shore Monody (Excerpt)</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1986, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Lurid mists moiled and churned<br /><br />amidst the Eight, bedizened, perfect.<br /><br />Fairy-cake for Ardachoke they spurned<br /><br />and swapped circuitous path for Direct.<br /><br /><br /><br />In ocherus miasma, bereft of compense,<br /><br />e'er pursuing interminable lark,<br /><br />poised on the brink of perilous imminence:<br /><br />gazed they in mortal trepidation upon<br /><br />lambent seas and mordant Dark.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>Semi-Like Tribute 'Ey? to Like a Threat to Hail I Say But Our Welfare, What?</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1986, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam was a master-thief.<br /><br />He's a Hobbit.<br /><br />Adam caused many monsters grief.<br /><br />He's a Hobbit.<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam shattered crystal balls.<br /><br />He's a Hobbit.<br /><br />Adam lobbed rocks down scary wells.<br /><br />He's a Hobbit.<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam touches nemeses in plain daylight.<br /><br />Such a Hobb-twit.<br /><br />Adam shakes all armor in sight.<br /><br />He's a Hobbit.<br /><br /><br /><br />Adam Adam.<br /><br />Leather armor clad him.<br /><br />Legendary destructive tendencies, and fleas:<br /><br />Adam had 'em.<br /><br /><br /><br />We fish in lakes.<br /><br />We fish in creeks.<br /><br />I seen this fish.<br /><br />Majique reques.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><em>CLW Clerihew (Woop-Te-Doo)</em></strong><br /><br /><br /><br />Copyright 1990, 2008, 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><br /><br />Peerless Pater Metless, as a Baraka,<br /><br />Quaft his vino and a drownt cucaracha.<br /><br />He petitioned Pallas Athene t'assuage his<br /><br />Tremendous GUT, but<br /><br />She (naturally) passed on the prayer of the<br /><br />Timorous NUT.<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. Discos sulk.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center"><br />click the article title above, and then click:</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2197884018775663199?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-71889788621043840262011-10-02T19:36:00.000-07:002011-10-02T19:36:09.157-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">What's the matter with all these</div><div style="text-align: center;">People? Zombies musta sucked</div><div style="text-align: center;">Out their brains. Who left the door</div><div style="text-align: center;">Unlocked and let the body-snatchers</div><div style="text-align: center;">Inside? Wake up you idiots! Alarm!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Open your eyes! Allen Ginsberg</div><div style="text-align: center;">Howled back at an earlier generation.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Can't you feebles emit more than a</div><div style="text-align: center;">Plaintive text or a tweet? They grind</div><div style="text-align: center;">Your future into sweet sausage and</div><div style="text-align: center;">Stuff it down plutocrat and pop whore</div><div style="text-align: center;">Holes by the bucketful. Pissant</div><div style="text-align: center;">Treachery, lumpishly pissing every day</div><div style="text-align: center;">A little bit more of the world and your</div><div style="text-align: center;">Own soul away. Where'd my world go?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Where'd my good ol' world go? And I</div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't wanna hear about the superior</div><div style="text-align: center;">Next world, my hamstrung dear. What's</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wrong with all these morons? Looks like</div><div style="text-align: center;">Their brains leaked out in the night,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Puddling the pillowcases oily green. And</div><div style="text-align: center;">Anyway I can't see why you'd want or</div><div style="text-align: center;">Need shocked alive by the likes of <em>me</em>. So</div><div style="text-align: center;">Go on and sleep, little dreamers; baby</div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't cry. Today we slack; tomorrow</div><div style="text-align: center;">We die.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-7188978862104384026?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-23353012502526352972011-09-24T11:41:00.001-07:002011-09-24T11:41:51.436-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />Unlooked-for, it bursts forward out of sleepy surroundings right at you, screaming and inescapable with the kill reflexes of a Bengal tiger, like you're staring down the fiery throat of the hurricane that lurks at the end of the universe. Call it Ragnarok. Apocalypse. All those tomorrows, and tomorrows, and tomorrows. That's what it's like, to me. Or. . . .It's like peering into the dark tubes of twin barrels, getting a whiff of a blue metallic oily smell in that infinitesimal instant when you <em>know</em> you've pulled the triggers: certain death, only you know it's only a cruel, self-deceiving game you're playing because it ends nothing. It can't. Something happens. You slip or stumble backwards by some autonomic reflex, recalling bitterly that taboo place in the underbelly of your mind that you found and touched quite by accident when you were so young you forgot about it long ago. Maybe it's like an auxiliary and untapped vestibular function of the middle ear, a kinesthetic mechanism of balance that operates in the fluctuations of fate, an involuntary dodging of the silken spider web snares that catch the rest of them. I don't know. It's only guesses, and not even that. Cheap simile. But what else is there? Not much else. Or everything.<br /><br />Now and again I produce a small pocket notebook and pen and I scribble down a few words; on a good day, when my mind is more clear, maybe even a whole sentence. But it's random, my thoughts adrift in time and memory. Someday I hope to rearrange the words I've put down. Make a more coherent story of it. But mostly I do not write, but I only sit still on this low, padded bench and stare straight ahead. Over time the guards have lost their curiosity for me. They tried to speak to me sometimes in the first few weeks, but I've no use for small talk. Now they leave me alone, knowing I am not right in the head. Me on my bench, and this clumsy, Lilliputian sketch, which is my own cruel idiot tale. But how to tell it? For the entrée into my story I choose late summer in Paris, 1799.<br /><br />Ahh, summer in Paris. You know how that goes. I was there on military business, in the loosest sense of the term. Guard duty, and occasional fortuitous plundering, at Versailles. It was a plum detail and I made sure the assignment fell to me rather than venturing abroad as so many of my countrymen were doing. I needed the respite. <em>Une entr'acte</em>, a brief interval for personal reformation. I was coming out of one of my dark spells, you see, and don't think I mean a bout of depression. One embraces the times or goes mad. Perhaps, as I've heard it said, the lives and deaths of human beings is the medium in which all great art is made. I don't know or much care. Such philosophical absorptions leave me cold. Nevertheless I, as so many in those days, longed for a measure of absolution. I could have found it easier elsewhere in Europe, or even in America. And yet Paris is Paris, and maybe she is the exclusive cure for her own disease. And I know how it sounds, but it's true: I really <em>did</em> see Belinda for the first time framed against the velvety cool twilight of evening in the Bois de Boulogne.<br /><br />It was not yet the <em>real</em> Bois de Boulogne, of course, but no matter. I was astride my roan Jerry, riding home among the mulberry trees, when I saw her sitting on a white park bench, her little five year old girl sitting close by her side. As I rode up I saw her long nose and black hair falling in rings around her white neck. She was looking toward the ground, at first, although she must have heard my approach. And then, slowly, she raised her eyes. They were the blackest and saddest eyes I've ever seen, before or since. Immediately my heart was pounding. <em>That</em> was strange. Unusual. An almost forgotten sensation.<br /><br />I saw right away that they were starving, the familiar semicircles of darkness under their eyes. Having just come in from the countryside, I would later imagine that they were fortunate it was I who encountered them first. Belinda's beauty was an impossible temptation, and these woods were unsafe. She raised her chin at Jerry's clopping approach. Such surrender in her shining eyes, black in black. I knew what she was seeing, me in my uniform. Who would want to see a soldier? Still, when I was a dashing thirty-two year old I must have decided I would age no more. My red-brown hair tends to fly around my head in an unkempt boyish way, and I know from experience that my smile can work wonders. I did smile at her, and I remember marveling at that, because I had not smiled in years; at least, not that way. And then she smiled a little, tentative and obviously fearful. I could tell it was an almost forgotten expression for her, too.<br /><br />That's how it began, much the same as it always does. The details are unimportant. I told you. This is only a sketch. She told me, in a few sentences, how the two of them had come down from the north. They were tired and hungry. Belinda needed food for herself and for her child, and I. . . .I found I needed Belinda. I offered her a warm meal and a warm bed for the night. I'm afraid all I had was a fairly thin stew, but they seemed grateful enough to devour it. They took my tenuous tick-mattress by the fire, and I spent the night in the barn with Jerry. I didn't sleep much.<br /><br />Belinda and little Fawna stayed on with me. The first arrangement we made was that I would provide their meals in exchange for Belinda modeling for a portrait I wanted to paint. She heisted at the proposition until I made clear what I had in mind: I only wanted her to sit in a chair in the room while I painted her, working by candlelight in the evenings when my guard duties were over. Fawna would be present at all times. Although I visited the salons and always tried to keep up with current trends, I hadn't painted in ages, and the portrait took me many weeks to complete. Very much I desired it to be right. The dark hair, and the sad, dark eyes, so sad and lovely, looking away to her right, away from me as I painted. Was she so unaware of her beauty as she seemed? I wondered. I used to look straight at her for a long time while I was painting. She would blush and I would smile, but I would go on starting. I could not help myself. Perhaps I didn't want to finish the painting, for then I would lose the excuse to stare at her. I would never let Belinda see the painting while it was in progress, covering it carefully with a light white sheet each night when I had finished, but Fawna used to sit behind me and watch as I worked.<br /><br />So the days passed. Belinda and little Fawna gradually became more trusting of me. They were happier times than I can tell, but only in subtle ways which most people, I'm certain, would have overlooked -- even Belinda. But yes, she could not know how she affected me. It was those tiny details of human connection that mattered most. Fall was in the air and each night was a bit more crisp than the one before, but within my soul the opposite was true: the deep pack of ice seemed to be breaking and thinning at long last. Ghostly traces of humanity stirred and curled someplace deep in my chest. I became more aware of my surrounds, and of the wider world outside.<br /><br />When I came home at night, approaching the little château where we lived -- so we called my rude little shack --&nbsp;I would sometimes hear her soft voice floating out through a window singing some country folk song while she worked. I would pause outside in the frosty cold under the stars, secretly floating in the gently lapping ripples of her Calais accent. She had taken on the housework, tidying things up, cleaning up the messes I'd accumulated over the years, making something more like an authentic home for us all. In those sweet few months I watched the two of them eating regularly so that, eventually, each meal did not seem to them a miracle out of Heaven. In the warmth of day they strolled together under the sun, and when it was cold or rainy out they stayed safe and warm by the fire, out of the elements. They grew healthier. The dark circles under their eyes began to fade, and more color infused my dear Belinda's soft cheeks. Each day I thought her fears receded a little more and her mind, like mine, grew proportionately serene. It was a magical season. She never spoke of her past or of her daughter's father, and I never wanted to know about it. There was no past in those days. None of us wanted to have a past. We did not want to think of a future, either. The present was all that there was, all that there needed to be. It was a beautiful <em>maintenant </em>that could never end. No one could ask for more.<br /><br />I think it was already October -- Brumaire --&nbsp;when the portrait was finally finished. We held a feast with a fine pork roast and much wine, and even oranges I'd managed to pluck from the palace. The feast was a great success, with the three of us sharing numerous little trivial tales from these carefree days of our lives. We all laughed and sang as though there were no happier place in the world to be than my little hovel, and maybe that was even true. Both Belinda and I were feeling just a little heady with the wine when it was time for the ceremony of the great unveiling. I brought the painting on its easel to the center of the room and, with a great flourish, I swept the covering sheet away.<br /><br />Fawna was clapping energetically but Belinda, I noticed in a moment through my intoxication, seemed astonished, and maybe somewhat stupefied. I looked closely into her face. She was not reacting. She looked stunned. Momentarily Fawna fell quiet, realizing that her mother was in some strange distress. I grew apprehensive. What was the matter?<br /><br />Belinda continued to sit speechless for a long moment, gazing steadily at the portrait. Finally, very slowly, she raised her head toward me where I stood behind the enormous canvas. Her eyes moved up to meet mine. They shone very brightly. Today, all these years later, I can still hear the exact intonation of every trembling syllable of her hushed voice: <em>«Vous m'avez trompé, le capitaine Lurant. Je n'avais aucune idée que vous étiez un peintre magnifique.»</em><br /><br />Then suddenly I could breathe again, although my heart was thudding laboriously against my sternum, just as it had a few months earlier one fateful evening in the Bois. I knew she could see clearly in the painting precisely what I saw in it, and what I saw when I looked at her, as I was doing now. She was looking directly at me and she did not look away. I covered my confusion with a laugh and by pouring more wine. Later, when little Fawna had gone to sleep, Belinda and I went for a little walk outside in the cold moonlight. In the nights that followed, Jerry had the barn to himself once again.<br /><br />I never spoke of such matters to my Belinda, but during all this time I kept myself apprised of news from the wars, our losses and recoveries. With my general knowledge, or better, of the continuing difficulties wracking the country, I had a premonition of what was to come. And so I was not much surprised when, soon, Paris passed again through the thin waist of revolution's hourglass. One government falls and another one rises, and I was ordered to quit Versailles for the front. I could have easily digressed myself from this venture by the usual method, but life is in the living and not in disengagement from work and duty, or so we often deceive ourselves. And anyway, I knew with certainty that I could go to war without fear of falling in battle, and I admit this Napoleon intrigued me. With promotions I could make a better life for my two wards, and then we could all get about the business of living happily ever after.<br /><br />But preparations were required to keep my Belinda and little Fawna safe during my absence. One very cold day in February (Pluviôse) I hired a coach to conduct us into Paris. It would be their first time to see the city-proper. We bundled up under furs in back of the carriage with Belinda's hand in mine and Fawna sitting on my lap and watching out the window as we jounced along. They were both very happy and excited to see the city, and when we had arrived and disembarked I jubilantly showed them the sights. Even though it was cold the markets were crowded with people. Belinda looked with wonder upon the massive, towering buildings and the teeming swarms of people. We stayed in a hotel that night, and the following morning the three of us went to a small chapel near Bercy. There, Belinda and I were wed. One week later I departed to join my regiment for its march on Genoa.<br /><br />How do we live with our past mistakes? How do we bury our tragedies and forget lost love? But those unanswerable mysteries, I have learned, are nothing compared to the future's burdensome weight. I hold my destiny in my own hands, but no one else's. Since the days of Midas, and before, it's been the same old story, and that story is this one, too. Each man kills the thing he loves. Oscar Wilde was treading over ground long since picked clean when he wrote those words. That doesn't mean he was wrong, though.<br /><br />Within ten days of my departure I received a letter from my beloved Belinda. Our little Fawna was down with the smallpox. Despair seized me, but I was far away and powerless. She had contracted the illness during our trip to the city, I knew. Two days later I had a second letter, only one sentence long. Poor Fawna had succumbed.<br /><br />I wrote many letters home in the days to come, but I heard nothing in return for three weeks. Finally I received a letter from an old man whose hut was located a mile from my own. The disaster was complete. Belinda had not told me that the same sickness had befallen the mother as well. In desperation some few days after her last letter to me, she had managed to walk to my neighbor's house, where she died the following day.<br /><br />Of such wicked comedy and tender tragedy is life's tapestry woven.<br /><br />I remained abroad for years then, fighting across Europe. Burying my memories of a few happy months. Wherever the fighting seemed heaviest, I was there. Trafalgar. Prussia. Madrid. I was still among the living when we crossed the Berezina at the end of that sorry, freezing year of 1812, and I knew it was finally time to break with the past. Enough French bombast. Quaint America could use an experienced fighting man.<br /><br />But before I sailed I thought to return home one last time. It was thirteen years since my wife's death. Time enough. I went back to the little shack where the ice over my mind had, for a brief season, been melted. But there was nothing left to see. The place where I had lived had long since burned down, and the old man who had been my neighbor, who had notified me of my wife's death, was himself decomposing in some lonely grave. Nothing remained for me. I looked on the ruins for less than an hour before setting out on the long road that would bring me to New Orleans.<br /><br />After that. . . .everything else.<br /><br />One day, many years later, I was in the capitol of my adopted country. I'd had occasion to travel to Washington several times before. How the city had changed over the years; but then, how everything has changed. I was there for pleasure on this trip, not business. It was an early April morning, and I found myself walking along the Tidal Basin near the Bureau of Engraving and Printing where so many visitors from Japan tend to congregate. Why shouldn't they? The Yoshino cherry trees were in full bloom, reminding them of home. The first trees were sent as a gift from Japan in 1912, three decades before that friendship would be tested at Pearl Harbor. Now, as I strolled the city in 2010, relatively few veterans of the Second World War were still to be counted among the living. I'm one, but that's another story.<br /><br />How, you ask? I don't know. All I have is similes to tell you what it's like. With each new generation the scientific understanding of space and time changes. So to put it in our most current idiom, perhaps it's like shifting between alternate parallel universes. Maybe it's like that --&nbsp;who knows? Every time two outcomes of an event are possible, maybe the universe splits into two alternate branches and <em>both</em> outcomes occur, but we only occupy a single branch, so we only experience a single outcome. Maybe it's all in our minds how we perceive infinitely branching reality. Maybe, when I was young, my mind accidentally stumbled upon a way to control which branch I land in. Yes. Through an act of will, of determination, I can control what will or won't happen to me. You see? I <em>choose</em>. Like I chose the branch where I'm always thirty-two years old. Where I'm safe from undo injury.<br /><br />The branch in which I can never die.<br /><br />I walked along the mall on Jefferson Drive and crossed on 7th Street to the National Gallery of Art which, for some reason, I'd never visited before. I'd been there for perhaps two hours when I began to discover the French impressionists. As I ventured deeper, each new room was like a chamber of memories opening before me. You see, some time previously I had returned to Paris to paint for a few decades, the better to cleanse my mind of the smoke and wails of the American Civil War. And now there they suddenly were again, Degas and Manet, like a bolt out of the blue. I had watched them paint a few of those canvases that were on display. I remembered the sounds of the sea on the rocks, the cries of the seabirds, the smell of their paints. . . .<br /><br />Not just Degas and Manet. I remember Robspierre and Murat, and so many others. Remember them? I <em>knew</em> them, personally. I actively supported the cause. And so I know something about the Terror they unleashed --&nbsp;the Terror we unleashed. That ran rampant as the bands of long repression finally burst.<br /><br />And now I think I know something that Robspierre never knew, although I suspect maybe Murat did. I know how all that terror can come together and condense and settle into the brain of a single individual, eating away behind a single pair of eyes. It is a singular variety of horror that no one else has ever known, my own private Hell in life.<br /><br />I came around the corner into another gallery and the hidden, crouching Bengal tiger that was past-and-future cruelly unified lurched out at me, took me by the throat. For immediately, on the far wall, bursting toward me, I saw Belinda. <br /><br />Sometimes two or three of the security guards will meet by chance in a corner of the room and speak softly together, usually about basketball scores. They pay me no heed. Sometimes a young woman will watch me as I sit staring forward, unmoving, at the portrait on the wall. When this happens I usually see it from the corner of my eye. It is now a familiar and tedious drama, she imagining how it would be to run her fingers through my fly-away red-brown hair. It is usually the hair that first captivates them. She will try to engage me in conversation, almost invariably asking me about the painting from which I cannot turn away. I try not to be rude, but I do not encourage them, and eventually they go sadly away.<br /><br />Belinda. To see you again now in such splendid, excruciating detail! How did the portrait survive? How did it end up here, in Washington? I don't know; it is an unimportant tale from the past. Belinda! To be so close to you, to see you a few feet away, dark eyes, dark hair, the blush in your cheek, but to be unable to touch you. Your mournful lips that I can never kiss to the smile that for only one week I saw bloom like a perfect rose. Your dark eyes are forever downturned. Never will you raise them to look at me with passion as once you did. There have been many wives and lovers since you, and there were many times many before you, but never again can I touch your hand or kiss your lips in this never-ending parade of cold and empty faces that is life without end.<br /><br /><em>Mon Dieu!</em> How can I embrace this hollow modern world? I am incurable with love for a woman who's been dead for centuries.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE END.</strong></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the&nbsp;story title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2335301250252635297?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-73984216483298631632011-09-22T04:57:00.000-07:002011-09-22T04:57:46.380-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />. . . .and we all know them (more by far of the latter than the former): the dyspectralytes and the panpollyannopticdyscrasites.<br /><br /><br />DYSPECTRALOSIS. n. A psychiatric fugue state in which the afflicted is unable to remember or accept that his or her own moral and ethical expectations and judgments are irrelevant with respect to the greater concerns, usually profit-driven, of the prevailing corporate behemoth which towers over all. adj. dyspectralytic.<br /><br /><br />PANPOLLYANNOPTICDYSCRASY. n. A severe adjustment disorder with mixed disturbance in emotion and conduct found to be very prevalent in the early 21st century, its symptomatic hallmark is the near complete imperception that all of one's freedoms have been expropriated by plutocrats and modern day merchant princes who are often themselves less frankly evil than merely weighed down with devalued value systems mimicking a form of universal moral relativism (<em>e.g.</em>, if it's good for business, or if it's at least theoretically capable of securing me a Christmas bonus, then by God it's obviously good for every other poor sod inhabiting this depreciated and degenerate planet), their brains so addled with the same disorder that they are incapable of discerning that every word they commit to official memos is sheerest self-congratulating and self-reinforcing propaganda of no syntactical value or meaning or relevance whatsoever, who scatter to the darkest corners like cockroaches from the light of reason or any recourse to humanity and humane ideals. Those who suffer from the disorder imagine, rather, not unlike Voltaire's famous Dr Pangloss, that under the savage tutelage of the economic and political sovereigns and wolves who control our every thought and action, this remains, because it cannot be otherwise, the best of all possible worlds, and so pursue unto death a philosophy perhaps best generalized as: "party till you puke." adj. panpollyannopticdyscraic.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-7398421648329863163?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-28288746634331015552011-09-12T07:59:00.000-07:002011-09-12T07:59:20.367-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />Lost at sea, lost<br />At sea on the moon, sweet Maria, did you<br />Delete my email address?<br />Silver dust falls slowly, slowly scanning<br />Radio frequencies for another mad lunatic genius<br />Voices fall dead with broken words<br />Before they're spoken. You forgot to<br />Give me a single token. I know<br />The Jawas sold you a lemon droid<br />Now my every destination: void<br /><br />I drove through the licking lightning<br />Quite close to your house, quite<br />Close to your house. Driving through bright<br />Cold rain, I tried to feel you presence<br />Out there somewhere close by, trying to<br />Sense my presence from where you stood<br />Gazing sensing something but unsuspecting on one<br />Cold electric storming night<br /><br />Might as well be hung over in Madagascar<br />Smoking a fat khat-soaked Cuban cigar<br /><em>Catha edulis</em>. I hit reload<br />Over and over and over again<br />I hit reload over and over again<br />Glassy computer eyes scanning for a message<br />Hungry for contact. I accidentally<br />Got off the train in Zanzibar<br />With no loose change for a return ticket<br />A dozen new diseases that destiny decided<br />I really ought to contract<br />Reel me back in<br />I've still got your hook in my throat<br />In case you've forgotten it<br />And the stinging jellyfish toxin of your<br />Laser-guided dart still<br />Flames through my heart<br /><br />We'll go<br />Inspect the crop circles from<br />Unsteady crop dusters while you complain<br />Of Jawas who sold you a lemon droid<br />And I swallow more seawater, my every<br />Destination: void<br />In the red glow licking beyond<br />The edge of the Earth<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2828874663433101555?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-192138491866810332011-08-22T18:43:00.001-07:002011-08-22T18:44:32.064-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />every word an embrace<br /><br />every sentence a kiss<br /><br />every page an hour seeped in another's<br /><br />interstellar eyes, penetrating, a brave<br /><br />nosedive into boundlessly ballooning,<br /><br />infinitely regressing depth, every<br /><br />conversation a blessed, secret rendezvous <br /><br />within arm's reach or less of paradise,<br /><br />occasions of a thousand lovers' passions,<br /><br />in certain determination, intent concentration, <br /><br />resolved to rend a humdrum, superficial world<br /><br />where left and right the sleepers still linger<br /><br />and malinger, blindly pursuing life's latent voltage<br /><br />undreamable and undreamt,<br /><br />and woefully under-tapped<br /><br /><br /><br />through spinning night to yawning dawn,<br /><br />day by day, year by year,<br /><br />you and i in secret met, again,<br /><br />again and again, while all of those others<br /><br />so unlucky, never having even exchanged<br /><br />one carefully selected and constructed<br /><br />resonant, reverberative, tolling bell-note of<br /><br />a great and heroic, clarion-voiced love:<br /><br />a word<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"> </script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-19213849186681033?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-72408192180021015842011-06-05T09:32:00.000-07:002011-06-05T09:32:29.279-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />destinies subverted, pulls us up short from<br />valedictorian delusions and dreams; mick said you<br /><br />get what you need. but a starry gulf divides<br /><br />living from subsisting. what demons tangle<br />life strings and wind time's bed sheets, what villains<br /><br />shave off waxy curls of destiny with diamond-edged<br /><br />microtomes of self-interest and greed? all those<br /><em>couldabeens-shouldabeens-wouldabeens</em><br /><br />every instant, every day,<br />slipping further and further<br />away.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-7240819218002101584?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-44618844139554467162011-05-28T17:28:00.000-07:002011-05-28T17:28:52.718-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />The sky, transparent, runs away forever. The seas<br />of the world are infinite, wrapping all around this<br />garden of a globe. The multi-colored stars like hard gems<br />howl in the hungry and eager night, wailing over<br />hot jungles or soaring blue-gray rocky crosscut saw teeth<br />far above a straight-edge tree line, or outside skyscraper<br />windows where the winds blow hardy but impotent,<br />or above summer convertibles that barrel down desert<br />diamond highways between nests of neon with noisy<br />air conditioning units jutting from caulk-rotted windows,<br />clutching at wildly desirous hearts. The voices, the songs<br />of the hordes ring on, ring on down stainless steel<br />American corridors constructed at sharply acute angles<br />through brilliantly fluorescing fogs of time. I know<br />the cool clarity of light when the day is fading, or in<br />the morning before the sun is risen. I know the open<br />prairies and their frigid and silvery streams that run on<br />no matter which side has won the election, or the war.<br />I know the deer that start under the eaves that we<br />never see, and the tail-twitchy skittering of gray squirrels.<br />I know the bones interred as sacred relics of the dance<br />of genes down ten thousand generations, and how<br />the sweat dripped down to water the lands. The poor<br />history that's written down is the least memoir<br />of these heroic, immortal collisions of good fortune<br />and catastrophe. I know we are all gods in the earth<br />whose ears are stopped and eyes plucked out, hypnotized<br />by colorful turning motion and car chases and cheap,<br />flashing mirrors and white sandy beach bathing scenes<br />and other authorized ornamentation, and I'm not perturbed.<br />I know the brown sparrows and fuzzy caterpillars that watch<br />from thin branches, gone after a season, but always returning,<br />again and again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-4461884413955446716?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-84904481874316168492011-05-07T18:47:00.000-07:002011-05-07T18:47:02.185-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.<br /><br /><iframe frameborder="0" height="224" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/23416441?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0" width="398"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> <br /><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-8490448187431616849?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-49330453922989884952011-05-04T16:46:00.000-07:002011-05-04T16:46:49.352-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br />Although defeated, you did not fail:<br />You succeeded, and we're all your descendants.<br />You could not know your first principles were fatally flawed,<br />your cause unjust. But the legacy you left to us shines<br />down recurring corridors of forgotten years, in dark<br />corners and along splitting seams like glittering stars<br />illuminating our uncertain steps in spurring dreams,<br />guiding us on, reminding us to dare to reach inside<br />for selves just a little better than these shabby ones<br />we routinely wear.<br /><br />This land is not by far the one you sought, and none<br />you could recognize. Your eyes might well blur with tears,<br />and yet I would that you could set aside regret and know,<br />for all the flaws and moral lapses you'd instantly recognize<br />and abhor, your children hold none in higher esteem than thee.<br />Thy memory informs the mystic river from whence the proud<br />and loyal drink on either shore. For behold! the splintered bones<br />reknit and forged anew a single nation under God which,<br />to no small extent because of you and the terrible burdens<br />which you bore, shall nevermore perish from the Earth.<br /><br />&nbsp; <br />&nbsp; <br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-4933045392298988495?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-19421157438823611492011-05-03T08:08:00.000-07:002011-05-03T08:08:32.750-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br /><em>That son of a bitch.</em><br /><br />Once in fifty years, in a hundred years, a shock<br />jolts the system, and nothing's<br />ever the same again. I know you don't<br /><br />see it that way. It's not because<br />you're young now; it's because you were <br />too young then, no more than a child who could not<br />guess what the Pentagon was, or find Pennsylvania<br />on a map, or even New York, much less Afghanistan.<br />I know because, remembering when I was your age,<br />I would have thought, I'm certain, not so very differently<br />than you. So I won't talk down to you, or preach, or assume<br />a paternalistic pose. I don't judge you. I don't even disagree.<br />How could I? But will you do the same for me?<br /><br />After that<br />TERRIBLE DAY<br />this<br /><br />natural-born liberal could not<br />hear the <em>Star Spangled Banner</em> for years without<br />choking up (I, who had never been a patriot any more<br />than you feel yourself to be a patriot; I, who was<br />equally suspicious as you are suspicious of patriots who blindly<br />follow the flag into national destruction); could not<br />sleep without the radio on and tuned to NPR,<br />jazz through the night, just in case another<br />catastrophe should be announced. Listening<br />to music became not disrespectful but trite, and for<br />six years music was blotted from my world.<br />Some of us who were not ten years old were changed<br />in ways you never saw and haven't understood,<br />because you couldn't. The parents<br />you know now are not the people they were on<br />September 10th. We all became<br />different people that day, not better people,<br />our lifelong sang-froid crippled in moments,<br />never to rise again. We can only<br /><br />operate within the moment; our emotions<br />are geared to the now. But nor time nor life<br />are thus comprised, and human memories<br />degrade with predictable rapidity, here today,<br />gone within a week. Time is not this little bubble<br />around ourselves and our acquaintances; time<br />is a mighty river in flood, pushing us forward like chips<br />bobbing helplessly along, and I hope someday<br />you'll see that on one bright sunny morning that river<br />was shunted violently aside to find strange new banks<br />and waterways for which none of us had planned,<br />and whatever life you would have known, <em>should</em> have known,<br />was brutally stolen from you by an evil man. That was the childhood<br />you were supposed to have had; those were the parents<br />you were supposed to have known: gone. That world,<br />five decades in the making, collapsed. Fallen into gray ash,<br />beyond all recovery in those horrifying moments<br />when the towers fell.<br /><br />Something was cut out of my soul that<br />only now do I believe may come back again; the same<br />something that was removed from <em>your</em> soul, and you don't<br />even know it yet, because you never<br />learned how to miss it.<br /><br />And I hope you're never<br />transformed into a patriot this way.<br /><br />Now that son of a bitch is dead. And I<br />believe in God, and I consider myself a Christian, and I<br />celebrate and respect thinking and devout<br />Buddhists and Muslims and Arabs and Jews, and I<br />respect agnostics and atheists too.<br />And I believe in freedom and democracy,<br />And I believe in Truth.<br />God bless America.<br />God bless this whole world.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-1942115743882361149?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-20610821727974411492011-04-16T17:31:00.000-07:002011-04-16T17:31:28.681-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />Seeking, searching, hungry, bored to<br />fill up the hours like vessels.<br /><br />Minutes are not lost;<br />only opportunities. <br /><br />Jar after dusty jar in the cellar stuffed<br />with sitcoms, basketball games, hate speech,<br />beer cans, anger, arguments to nowhere.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2061082172797441149?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-87682841898735915042011-04-09T06:22:00.000-07:002011-04-09T06:22:21.120-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br />Moral courage: a beast<br />as rare as a snipe, and a delicious<br />delicacy much favored by elites who've<br />conditioned you to walk many a mile<br />in their broke down brogans; at least<br />the ones they bought for us in bulk,<br />recycled from warehouses the allies inherited<br />after the war.<br /><br />Some are cursed, their cataracts<br />distorting the branches and leaves of the<br />close-up trees, but such an instigator sees<br />the forest for what it is, remembering<br />with a mix of despair and nobility that<br />no headstones are ever required for<br />the likes of Hansel and Gretel.<br /><br />Are human beings so self-loathing that we<br />embrace the imposition of whoredom to<br />the corporate prophet model? Did we succumb<br />and let it become an involuntary reflex?<br /><br />Ah,<br />let the stars fill your eyes, my child.<br />Slumber mildly and fill your belly with oats.<br />The gates of Heaven are framed in peppermint,<br />and you can even lick the walls.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-8768284189873591504?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-27937998289105550872011-03-29T13:27:00.000-07:002011-03-29T13:27:24.382-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There is a beacon that does not burn.<br />And I catch myself looking up<br />A dozen times a day or more,<br />Hoping to see it light up,<br />Again, and again.<br />But it is dark,<br />Unmoved.<br /><br />And so I wait.<br />And so I watch.<br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2793799828910555087?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-70478932044423481412011-03-26T17:36:00.000-07:002011-03-26T17:36:10.744-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><br />My friend<br />I long to hear from you again<br /><br />And I'll reach across the galaxy<br />For your style of dignity<br /><br />My friend<br />Watch me make this straight line bend<br /><br />And I'll fast forty days in the wilderness<br />To fix the fortunes that went amiss<br /><br />My friend<br />My friend<br /><br />How I long to<br />Hear from you again<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click: <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-7047893204442348141?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-29970568001543825482011-03-24T20:57:00.002-07:002011-03-24T20:57:53.828-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br />Chapter 1.1 available <a href="http://brbogle.blogspot.com/2011/03/chapter-11.html">here</a>.<br /><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2997056800154382548?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-24902096348402087042011-03-24T07:18:00.000-07:002011-03-24T07:18:13.044-07:00<div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-U9KdWTDDvcw/TYtSPMBcg4I/AAAAAAAAAiI/CPmkduyMeh4/s1600/20110324+earthquake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" r6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-U9KdWTDDvcw/TYtSPMBcg4I/AAAAAAAAAiI/CPmkduyMeh4/s320/20110324+earthquake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">new earthquake.&nbsp; big.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />click the article title above, and then click:</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-2490209634840208704?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-64584074133258160622011-03-17T18:55:00.000-07:002011-03-17T18:55:02.623-07:00<div align="center">See the new <em>Memphis Blues Again</em> website<a href="http://brbogle.blogspot.com/"> here</a>.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />click the article title above, and then click:</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-6458407413325816062?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-81442487109894259422011-03-17T11:08:00.002-07:002011-03-17T11:08:53.435-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="299" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/21162170?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0" width="398"></iframe></div><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-8144248710989425942?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-91265818138260195302011-03-16T19:53:00.000-07:002011-03-16T19:53:40.963-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><iframe frameborder="0" height="299" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/21138373?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0" width="398"></iframe></div><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-9126581813826019530?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ernest Bloomnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6246008982530482689.post-31801435696384725802011-03-16T17:41:00.000-07:002011-03-16T17:41:40.114-07:00<div align="center">Copyright © 2011 Ernest Bloom.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><iframe frameborder="0" height="299" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/21135209?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0" width="398"></iframe></div><br />click the article title above, and then click:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="none" data-via="ErnestBloom" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6246008982530482689-3180143569638472580?l=ernestbloom.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>