November 3, 2004
-
Look on the The_Clowne_from_Clown Blog for the truth about me. This is important because some of you do not understand me.
Terry
Blackbird.
Almost all the leaves are gone
From your tree, blackbird,
It’s branches are letting in the light;
And you are a dark shadow
Sitting there.
A black ghost against white clouds.
The traffic in the distance
Seem to be in another key
In the cold mists
Moving up from the ground.
You know your evening has arrived
Blackbird,
You have finished your mating,
Your feathers are turning white.
Soon you’ll be on the ground,
The ground that will have
It’s revenge from you.
I must leave this park bench now,
My clock is ticking fast,
Soon I too will be feeding those worms
That once fed you.
—
Lord Pineapple.
________________
“Death of a dragon”
__________________
You said that tomorrow
Was a continuation of today;
That my breath will still fire,
My pulse still shine,
Yet now I die, and tomorrow is
Lies. All lies.
Every morning I wake
Tomorrow came,
But now dusk falls
And there is only yesterday.
They said tomorrow
Was a continuation of today
The same warm fist
The same magic eyes of mine
Will burst forth:
But now I die, and tomorrow is
Lies. All Lies.
You broke my tomorrow
Burnt it in shreds
When I had been happy
firing the temper of your heart.
But now I flame no more, no more;
And water cruel my eyes,
You went and you stole tomorrow,
And left lies. All lies.
—
Lord Pineapple
_________________________
“An Apple”
(“I can stare at an apple for hours”: Timothy Leary)
————–
This is an apple
one side red
one side green
and yellow all around.
I hold it up to the air
and smile
I think of the tree
from whence it came
and fell
into my cool hands.
I bite into its crispy ball
and feel my teeth tingle
in its white powder.
I breathe into the apple
and become refreshed
by its smell.
This apple is my life
this apple is my being
this apple is my whole mind
of water.
I crawl into the apple
until I am
the apple
Yes
the apple is me.
—
Lord Pineapple
__________________
“A Man As Fine As Sand.”
————————————-
(“In Turkey today, a young teacher is found dead with a bullet in his head. Government forces said they were not responsible”)
—
Deep in the desert
He is playing with beads,
His beard is hot and sticky
From eating watermelons.
His face is white with anger
From a million insects.
He sits on a landrover
As if it were a camel.
Poor man,
Somebody once told him
He was free.
(Maybe it was General,
Maybe it was a schoolteacher
Paid for by the state…)
Whoever it was,
The man had been told
He was free.
He kept repeating these words
All to himself
Whilst the back of his neck
Lay burning
Under the barrel of a gun.
The landrover
Sped through the long desert,
The sun played music
On the dunes;
They said it was a beautiful evening
For a bullet to scream
Into the back of a neck.
As the poor man lay dying,
And no longer sweeping the insects aside;
The noise of the landrover’s engine
Hid his warm happy words…
“I am free,
I am free,
I am free!”
—
For Ahmed Inonu, fellow poet, 1939-1986.
—
Lord Pineapple
_______________
“The Mirror”
___________
Cast: Four female humans in identical body-tights.
Scene .
D. sits on a table, her face featureless. In the background, A. B. & C. look straight ahead. All speak in a flat monotone throughout the play, (except at one requested time.)
D. Someone died yesterday. I do not know who died yesterday, someone close to me I think, someone I was speaking with until only yesterday. It does not matter now who it was who died yesterday, I am not allowed to remember.
B. None of us are.
C. It is a mirror.
A. We are not allowed to remember.
B. None of us are.
D. If we sat down and tried to think of the yester, we may die ourselves, I do not know why, but I know it is forbidden to remember anything except where the food comes from, and how to copulate.
C. It is a mirror.
D. They say people used to work in this place, but I pretend not to listen, for I know the only thing we must do is to walk around in our plastic cases as directed to by the government of the day.
C. It is a mirror.
D. Maybe that is why he or she died yesterday. Maybe they wanted to do more, to be a human again, maybe they had a thought, or even smiled. It does not matter, they are dead and we who are left must not think of them anymore.
A. We are not allowed to remember.
B. None of us are.
C. It is a mirror.
D. A baby was born this morning, we took it to the food outlet as usual, to be eaten later on when they have forgotten to feed us. But I must not remember that. The word usual is dangerous. It means we know something we must not know. We who are left must not think, and above all, we must not remember. It is dangerous to remember.
D. gets off the table, and looks at the other three closely and carefully, then she turns to the audience.
D. Yesterday, I think somebody remembered.
Scene two.
A. B. & C. are standing in a row, hands at their sides. They move only their mouths for this scene.
C. We were born never to remember.
A. We were born always to forget.
B. We were born to speak the truth as it was given to us to do so.
A. Everyday, Amen.
C. When I was born, but I forget.
A. It does not matter that you forget.
B. It has not mattered since the glorious dust began to cover the outside world.
A. It does not matter.
B. All that matters is that we live.
C. We live not to remember.
A. We live to forget.
B. We are the lucky ones.
C. We are alive.
A. And we live because we forget.
B. We are the lucky ones.
C. How long has it been?
A. It does not matter.
B. We are the lucky ones.
A. Changing her voice to sad wistfulness: I had a child once, she was very pretty…
B. You must forget.
A. I can not forget.
B. You must forget.
C. All that matters are
B. We are the lucky ones.
B. It does not matter.
A. Breaking down: It mattered once.
Scene three
A,B. & C. stand in a semi-circle. In the middle of this circle is D. All is silent, and no one moves for 100 seconds. Suddenly, D. gets out a knife & plunges it into A.’s back. A. falls silently into D.’s arms. D drags the lifeless A. offstage. D. then walks back and stands where A. stood.
B. Do you remember the child’s smile, A.?
D. There is no A.
C. Do you remember the child’s name, A.?
D. There is no A.
Silence for thirty seconds, B. & C. blink back tears.
B. & C. (smultanously): There is no A.
D. Do you know of A.?
B. Who is A.? I do not remember.
C. Who is A.? I have forgotten.
D. There is no A.
B. There is no A.
C. There is no A.
D. A. was nothing.
B. A. was no-one.
C. A. was nothing.
D. Nothing but a mirror.
B. Who was A.?
C. & D. (simultanously): We have forgotten.
—
Lord Pineapple.
Comments (25)
“An Apple” is in such sharp contrast to the rest of this! It gave me a moment of relief.
Your entry today is marvelous. Personally the first two, the second especially, left me speechless, I don’t know why but they hit a perfect chord.
~V
“The Mirror” was great … I loved that one. I have a pretty good imagination so I saw it all … though the women had nude colored tights (not surprising … eh)!
It made me wonder though. Say you were in a sandbox … and you had some figures to play with … how many figures would you have to play with. And, what types of figures would they be … and most importantly … HOW WOULD YOU PLAY with them? Just a thought that can be taken … or evaporate … !
the first two are simply fantastic and i dont have time for the rest because i have classes, but i definitly will later on
im quite amazed there still are living wild animals in new york city
that arent morphed by pollution into some monstrosity of nature
John
I really like the second one…
You are such an amazing writer… I could read your poems forever and never get bored.
-Sarah
Your comment … thanks. I have been mulling it over about letting the therapist go … because I get the same thing here for free. How fucked up is it to come to that realization … eh!
Oh well … time moves on and so do I!
You are inspired, touched with a sight that few socially indoctrinated souls could ever even imagine. In other words, great reads, all… made me feel like writing. You do that better than anybody.
good pieces…
sometimes it is a real fight to remember what and who is important, we are so distracted by tv or things that don’t really matter that often we don’t take time to remember people who really did or do know how to live and think.. we do act and go about so mindlessly and people makes promises they have no intention of keeping.. all these poems are very thought provoking- it is sad that the man in “the man was as fine as sand” was free from life and lies and it’s disappointments by his death- why can’t our lives give us results worked for and freedoms instead of so many bitter disappointments and tresspasses on our sensibilities that we often are freed by death rather than life???
the apple, hmmm, so in the end you bite in to yourself =).
“blackbird” is wonderful, it speaks in so many human voices.
“the mirror” took a few seconds for me to read over but i found it to be enjoyable and tickling.
=)
The Mirror made me hurt, literally. I fight to forget or for a blank sheet. I fear the onslaught of remembrance and flee by being busy,busy, busy. If only we had a switch that we could use to command forgetfulness.
“The Apple” was surprising because I was expecting a terrible ending, like you usually do. “THe Blackbird” reminds me of Poe’s poems involving his raven. Why are blackbirds and ravens never thought of in a happy sense???? Your play is downright eerie! Love them all, as usual. Darn it—you made me THINK again!!!
I love these, especially the second one!
Very good written for the season and I don’t mean the real season but our season: automn going to winter. But there are still some appels to let us forget the time.
Thanks for sharing.
lord pineapple
I like the way you write very intense but understandable.I
feel like I live on a firemans ladder,everytime I climb a
rung to get closer to societys sanity I fall back again and
even when I think Im there The buggers open out another
extention of the ladder.I tried the drink that made me go
straight to the bottom of that damn ladder.bUT i MUST ADMIT
THE TRIP UP IT WAS ok for a while.But now I stay where I am
accept who I am.Just as I am a simple man you are a great
writter keep up the great works.
It’s always good to read your words
Your words come to me this day as a shaded draught down an endless corridor~for today I am quite sad~and your words profound~
Blessings, my Poet Friend~
Death of a dragon is extreemly moving I don’t quite know why. . .
blackbirds & magpies cretions of a clown for higher purposes nice poetry LORD as i stare at my clwn/jester & my welcome pineapple sign still at my door tough i had it for years not knowing what for i still have it one if the few things i still have abc r these new LORD or old? just curious is is seeming i have lived a large % of my life just to write poetry magi oh yeah thank u
I can’t fathom how this happened..when JFK was elected they blamed it on his costly campaign. These two were equally wealthy…who knows? Up the bureacracy.
you are truly talented. i wish you the best of luck. -Amity
“Blackbird” and “Death of a dragon” both touched me. Thank you so much for sharing your work and yourself here on Xanga. -Margot
that’s anice long entry! I particularly liked blackbird and death of a dragon.. I write poetry too but haven’t put it up yet on my blog and you’ve given me an idea.. more power and literary pursuits to you!
Some dark entries here but all make sense if studied. You always have so much and I like to read them to try to understand what you are saying.
All good but your entry A Man as Fine as Sand catches me and have I not read this one before? Anyway, I think it is an excellent poem and one that certainly makes you realize more about war and death.
Blackbird, another dark and dying poem. We are all destined for the same end. I hope there is something beyond our being food for the worms (mention of that in Dead Poet Socitey) even if you think not. We shall find out either with understanding or with the blankness of nothingness.
Regards,
Death of a dragon and The Mirror were intense. I have a question, though. It begins with”You said”…who is the you? Is it society and how it tries to ignore death and not talk about it, or is the author talking to himself?