[lit-ideas] Re: Not Another Sunday Poem
- From: "Torgeir Fjeld" <phatic@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Mon, 31 Dec 2007 18:14:07 +0100
So, row
We're in this boat together, so row
You must eat to live, so row
My reflection in the water is my slightest concern, so row
I'll just sit here til the sun sets, row, so row
To practice is no thing, so row
All intervention leads to pain, so row
Listen those before you, so row
When you know, row, so row
The boat is leaking, so row
There is no shore to reach, so row
Someone else is rowing, so row
Let's leave this row poem, row, so row
Best wishes for the new year,
Torgeir Fjeld,
Oslo, Norway
----- Original Message -----
From: "Mike Geary"
To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [lit-ideas] Not Another Sunday Poem
Date: Sun, 30 Dec 2007 14:52:32 -0600
THE ASSASSIN NEVER TAKES A VACATION
"Great Caesar's ghost!" as goes
History's Brood'est Etude.
Assassin Time,
has struck again.
left me with one less year to go.
Yon Cassius in me is lean and hungry,
seditious in his ambition to live forever,
to live as a free man, refusing to bow to mere biology.
I have envisioned God, after all, I have made him Me.
How could I ever genuflect to lowly seconds?
Listen, You,
me and my body,
We've cleared fields. We've pitched hay.
We've unloaded trucks by the hundreds.
We've built the goddamn world,
(well, yes, OK, only our little piece of it, but it's ours).
We've changed the world immediately surrounding me,
We -- me and my body --
we've got claim to my being here.
We have no intention of surrendering it to
the mere, mindless, meaningless, succession of nanoseconds.
I love my body,
short, goofy-looking little thing that it is.
Most males don't even see me.
And I thank God for that.
It's let me see me.
It's let me be me.
Everyday I shout halleluiah
to my wonderful, faithful, pleasurable goofy little body.
And my body seems to accept me.
We've been buds quite a long time.
We've loved and rejoiced and grieved together.
We're one -- especially when it comes to humor.
Like this morning,
looking under the bed for a sock,
my body moaned and groaned
struggling to get up,
he kept apologizing for being so slow.
I'll admit I was a bit irritated,
"Jesus Christ, what's with you?" I wanted to shout,
but I didn't, I let it go,
knowing that the slower my body goes
the longer I might be able to look for socks
before the Assassin strikes.
"Yeah," I said, "you're slow, but eternity's slower."
My body laughed. An easy audience.
May the coming year bring enlightenment, recognition, wealth, self-fulfillment
or just endurance -- whatever it is that you seek, I hope it comes to you and
those you love, because time's running out on all us, guys and gals. : )
Best,
Mike Geary
Memphis
--
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