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jiminy-littly Mar 2016
you looked
i won.


this is a poem

written by me

and sent to who-so-ever-will

open up to love,

lay aside hurt pride,

unfreeze to stay warm and hungry.
jiminy-littly Feb 2016
what are you thinking
so curious a surrender
without prejudice

next to those mischievous pealing eyes
soft goes the song of love

for you I think of cranberry crumbling cakes and luscious blackberry colored beets

I make for you a crown
of laughing stars, with singing orbs in guileless profusion

but if ever life ends this round - forever desperate sends are bound

for if ever a war was in my heart - it rages over being with you
or being alone,
for my pride gorges on isolation

selfishly feeding - like a dismal mite -
making a mean meal - meticulously picking out flakes

of love.  but there is love - though it seems forever lost

and if ever a semblance of a true and divine love would by chance appear,
save me a place, not waiting to be saved in this world, not wanting the next, but only now
my most dearest and loving v., save me a place, in this moment,
next to you.
jiminy-littly Jan 2016
Adam!
turn me over and sing me a song of sixpence
hearing voices, not seeing faces ... with the radio on

it's just me myself and I

driving between towns emoting, gushing
hurt me, break me, **** me!
at the top of my lungs

finding bars buried in backyards
on back roads of insincerity

birch bitten and chewed
logs wet and rotten
and still, chords neatly stacked in ordered rows

can you stand me on my feet?

back home
brushing my teeth yellow
biting my nails turgid, hoping she will come with me to a show
my state is of a lower-class shambling

hoping for a renewal
                or rebirth

sweating on the train repeating God's name

gasping for air making people nervous staring
at their phones wondering if I am going to keel over and die

it's just me myself and I

that's right, write it out in long hand first, then go back and edit

(wishing  to write  like  Tarkovsky)

comparing father and son - an unchecked exception
they were buried in separate coffins
                one in France the other, in a timber cask

but won't I be
too?

I wish I could say, "we have a saying in my country" or "scripture says" or

"I'm lost without you"  (I am and now found).

In ruins at the end of a day
building pigeon flap (or come what may)
ascending a scale of notes in a mirror of songs
behold an image
in a scale of descending notes at dawn.
Зеркало (HD) / The Mirror - YouTube.

The Mirror of Time and Memory

Live in the house-and the house will stand.
I will call up any century,
Go into it and build myself a house…
With shoulder blades like timber props
I help up every day that made the past,
With a surveyor’s chain I measure time
And traveled through as if across the Urals.

I only need my immortality
For my blood to go on flowing from age to age.
I would readily pay with my life
For a safe place with constant warmth
Were it not that life’s flying needle leads me on Through the world like a thread.
Arseniy Tarkovsky

His song sounds rather like this:
A drawn-out "ohh-h-h-h-h-h," descending downward, almost like a sweet moan, followed by a series of about 7 or 8 descending notes, like a descending scale, fading slowly toward the end of his song. Thus:
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh
                         la
                             la
                                 la
                                    la
                                       la
                                          la
                                             la
                                                la
Judith Posted 06 July 2007 - 08:56 PM
jiminy-littly Jan 2016
drop a cap
says a lot
   of crap

used words
won't work
or at least
I ain't gonna buy it

what's it worth
if it can't be said?

until it drops
don't try it

used
words
don't
work
for
what
they need to say

to tell the grim and glum and gray

ultra-violent
rightly-fallen
defiantly-silent
irritably-sol­emn

a gap opens

a rat is about to die

muck starts settling

wood ash leaches to lye

crystals start forming
an emerald worth rejoicing.
jiminy-littly Jan 2016
J'étais fou de toi.  J'ai été

I will never forget
the more I wanted (you)
the less I was.

If a dark night is for dancing -
will you come waltz with me?

from the top of a hill
she never heard
which way to down
and never felt
a connection underneath

a missing note
a deviate step
a vapor mist
our kisses never met

a hollow cavern
a hole forever closed
inside and out

like tar water run-off from a hopeless ash basin
an unending drizzle of forever ending dribble that fizzled ... out

help me dear earth
if you really want to be mine
blacken the soil and ink the green

in deeper ferns we reappear
as lava flows to shore.
jiminy-littly Jan 2016
there is a list to drum by:

father,
mother,
sister,
brother,

the son who died is he forgiven?
the father who survived is surely not.

sitting quietly in a boat
fishing reluctantly
casting my rod
accidentally
to the bottom
of the lake

our guide
a nations pride
holds his breath
then bursts out laughing

my father rises
spits bits and flicks
his stub

glimmering light
thuds as it laps
against a hollow bow

we are drifting now

american bound.
jiminy-littly Dec 2015
[they say the meek shall inherit the earth]

those *******
no one tells me anything
so no one owes me nuthin'

when living means dying
when dying means I told you so
when a letter arrives (too late)
when a boy no longer fits in his grave
when someone dies
and still wants love

defending myself
by yawning (as if shouting who me?)

afraid of people
or fighting for myself
or smoking grass

but having hatred
baring teeth
biting my thumb (and looking at the marks after)
striking my brother (with a hockey stick)

running off a neighbor's lawn
its ***** -  too fast down and breaking a collar bone
proof gone.

still biting my thumb (and looking at the marks later)

yelling **** the the rich
and bury them with those who live outside themselves

who wear me out
who wet in commercials
transmitting their cleanliness
into our homes

they can no longer stand their filth

they smile as they **** on us

the little people

turning to face me
he dares me
to make eye contact

clenching his fist
grinding his teeth
he sputters

you middle class smurf
I don't owe you jack!
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