Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

For the sake of ornament and illumination.

POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:07 pm

Not Everyone All At Once, by Charles Carreon

Each day uniquely troubled,
Each night a special woe,
Each step the earth does tremble,
In every grasp a seed is sown.
This fertile field, abundantly produces fruit
according to the nature of the seed.
We farmers till according to our nature,
harvest in keeping with our ways.
Now, getting on,
with money, gold and scrip in hand,
and heavy grip upon the land,
Raise stones, inscribe them carefully,
All in their way,
Variations on an epitaph.
Last words, anyone?
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:08 pm

Nova Donna's Valentine, by Charles Carreon

Long, long, long ago
When the Universe was very small,
And there really was no space at all,
Nova Donna was there.
She was so furious.
There was no time,
No time for anything.
She was raging,
She was determined,
There was no one to stop her,
So she let loose.
She let loose of all the boundaries,
All the restrictions,
Every last one,
She let it rip
Right up the crotch,
Split the seams of her restraining garments,
And started growing like Alice.
Her head lifted the roof,
Her arms shot out the windows,
And then all the walls just
Busted to flinders
And went spinning off into space,
Because now there was some,
And she took a big, deep
breath, exhaling
A stream of galaxies
as dense as thick smoke.
She kicked back on the
Big sofa covered with patterns
like rattlesnake hide
and leopard prints
and tiger stripes and
all those kinds of badass
patterns, and started to chill.
She kept smoking for a long time,
Because now there was some,
Time I mean,
Time to get some things done,
Things she'd been meaning to do
Back when there was so much pressure
And no means of expression.
She didn't make any decisions.
She delegated everything,
And didn't create any minions.
She wrote everyone a blank check.
There was so much to do,
And she needed helpers, not slaves,
Willing warriors, able to brave
The space, because there was so
much space now in this new place.
She couldn't stop smoking.
It turned out there was no limit
To the volume of swirling spirals
And gyrating pulsars and
collapsing vortices she could exhale,
And she started collecting white dwarves
And red giants to keep her company,
And always loved to wear a nova in her hair.
Eventually she thought "WOW"
And then she thought "This is really cool"
And she noticed little things starting
To happen in the cool places out in
the star systems.
She noticed some very cool stuff,
Like water, which she had never seen before,
As rain, and snow,
As lakes and rivers,
As oceans and ice caps,
Turning these cute little planets
all blue and green
The cutest little things she'd ever seen.
And then she saw something
that took her breath away.
Because her vision being very keen,
She could see the snow falling,
Every snowflake, just drifting down
Through the atmosphere like inside
A glass ball when you shake it,
And she loved the way the winds
Swirled all around the planets,
Making those twirly patterns
That are so cute.
But what amazed her most was
the way every snowflake was
unique, custom-made perfect,
And she just laughed with joy,
Because she knew that she was rich.
So she went on a shopping spree,
She started spending wildly,
Everywhere she could find a
cool little planet.
She was everywhere at once,
Checking planetary orbits,
Waiting for gravity to pull them
into line,
Watching for stray comets that
might be candidates to deluge
some bare rock with a splash
of bubbly
Then watching them foam up green
As the suns, oh how she loved her suns,
Warmed up the whole shebang,
And then one day they came.
Flowers, oh god the flowers.
She gasped.
She thought the snowflakes were grand,
But the flowers were, they were,
They were just magnificent,
And she said out loud in
a voice like thunder,
"I'm movin' in!"
And she plucked some dawn clouds
Out of the sky for a nightgown and still
almost naked, gathered up
flowers and rolled in the fields,
Getting drunk on perfume
And watching the sun
way up high in the sky, and
the rivers flowed between her legs
and she knew she was not only
rich, she was beautiful.

(Jan. 2009, Tucson AZ)
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:13 pm

Off-Planet Haiku by Zafu, by Charles Carreon

Image

A blue-gold perlisonde is blooming
Under the red moon.
In the dim twilight
A rippo niggles softly.

***

Chu-chong will not see me--
I have cried so much
My runtor will not function.

***

My friends say you will not return--
But your departing steps
I will never cease to hear
Until you return again over the hill.

***

The whistling winds of tundoo
Swivor my undulating ramp.
Your chuckoo.
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SONG

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:14 pm

Ohhh! Bama, by Charles Carreon

Do you remember?
It was 2008
The millions pushed the old regime away
It was our own Velvet Revolution
A Black man would provide the real solution
Oooh Bama!
The crowd surged in an orgasm of voting
We were purged of our legacy of suffering
Only a few Nader-sayers were spoiling the party
Saying "He said he'd kill terrorists in Pakistan,
That Wall Streeter fella Summers is his right-hand man
He bags up votes in Goldman Sachs
How's he gonna get our backs?"

But to them most everybody said
"Shut up you green-ass muthafucka --
You helped Bush win Florida lika sucka
We gonna shut you outta the debates
Don't piss on hope
We vot'n F' Change!"

So change we got
Like a revolving door
Swear I been here before
In one side out the other
But missin somethin'
My dear brother
I thought Obama was my friend
But it's dejavu
All over again

Soldiers in Afghanistan
Losin' limbs and
accomplishing nothin
While M'Hamad Karzai
And his next o' kin
Bankin billions in Swiss accounts
Buyin real estate in
Qatar an' Doha,
Dealin' smack an'
Rollin' in clover

Ohhh! Bama

Bush was in yo face
But this man's stickin'
It in the other place
Below the waistband of
Your pajama

Now he's in the same
Position, up side down
So happy to surrender
That must have been
His mission!
They say don't switch dicks
In the middle of
A screw,
But that's exactly
What they do
And if you can't handle
Act One
Act Two won't be no fun
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SONG

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:17 pm

On Buddhist Boards, by Charles Carreon

(Sing to a mambo beat, with marimba accompaniment)

On Buddhist Boards so happy-o
No nasty words no nasty-o
I've got a lot of Dharma to say
Will have to save it for a nother day

Oh Buddhist Boards so nasty no
We never have dissension-o
All people happy, all day long
Singing old Bernardo's song

On Buddhist Boards we posting-o
Say nothing much that you don't know
Sometimes so dull I fall asleep
On keyboard drooling at Bernardo's feet

Oh Buddhist Boards I love you so
Say nothing funny or crude you know
Free to say anything you want
As long as it isn't a nasty taunt

On Buddhist Boards the truth won't show
It's white on white the color of snow
Build up a snowman with a carrot nose
And when Bernardo has to sneeze it snows

On Buddhist Boards all Buddhist know
Can't learn nothing, but that's how it go
Nothing ventured nothing restrained
Now I see Bernardo pop a vein

On Buddhist Boards!
He pop a vein!
On Buddhist Boards!
He go insane!
On Buddhist Boards!
Dancing the tango!
On Buddhist Boards!
Juggling the mango!
On Buddhist Boards!
Eating the whole Papaya!

(This poem is really about Juan C. Aragon, creator of Buddhistboards.com, who operated under the false name of Bernardo Aragon during 2002-2003. Apologies to the true Bernardo Aragon, who probably is guilty of nothing more than knowing Juan.)
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:19 pm

One View of History, by Charles Carreon

In the age of the salad bar,
There were no real men
Or women, because canned garbanzos and
Plastic cutlery
Made identity irrelevant.

In the age of bottled fruit juice coolers
And yogurt bars,
There arose titanic palaces
Crammed with ambrosia,
Ornamented with water fountains,
And fragrant with a rich
Dairy-fruit scent

In the age of chocolate
Covered marshmallow cookies,
Great migrations were triggered
That in turn spawned
Cultural intermixtures
The repercussions of which
Are not yet fully understood.

In the sober era of canned pineapple,
As we all know,
Great solemnity prevails,
As we await the return
Of our children, decked with garlands,
Wearing saturnalian smiles,
From the place the heroes took them
Long ago.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:21 pm

Ordinary World, by Charles Carreon

We are the ordinary color people,
the faded clothing, the old car people,
We are the wood-stacked-by-the-fire people,
The sun-shining-on-the-bare-rocks people.
We are the just day by day people,
No wealth, no future, no claims to fame.
We are the don't-mind-being-forgotten people,
The wind in the abandoned orchard people.
Some people say we are a good-for-nothing people;
That is OK with me,
It is good to be for nothing.
Yes, I like to walk a rocky coast,
Listening to the sea-cave sounds.
I like to lean my head out the window,
Rolling down the hiway as the desert golds,
And I like to think -- perhaps, someday
The lights and shiny paint will fade,
And reveal an ordinary world.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:22 pm

Panorama, by Charles Carreon

There is gold for the rising sun,
And red for the time when it sets.
Green boughs adorn the curving hills,
and blue resides in the depth of the sky.
The purest light is the heart of the sun,
and its absence the essence of night.

In the weight of the earth, nothingness --
In the nothingness of sky, endless abundance --

Mountains rise high into the air,
Water swiftly descends from a height,
Wind travels everywhere without hindrance,
And the arrows of the sun are numberless and swift.
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SONG

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:25 pm

Paper Bag Blues, by Charles Carreon

Image

(Sing to the tune "In the Summertime (when the sun gets hot)" but a little slower.)
 
Well in the afternoon,
When the sun gets hot,
And the shadows don't move in the parking lot,
You bring a paper bag
With a bottle o' wine--
We just sippin', bullshitin' an passin' time.
 
Well if ya just sit still
You can chill yourself
As cool as sweet wine
On refrigerator shelf;
You can rest your bones
And relax your mind,
You can have the kind o' pleasure
Even kings don't find.
 
Well as the bottle gets low,
Gotta sip it slow,
And as your bones get loose
We'll sing some paper bag blues--
We'll sing some paper bag blues--
You'll be swayin' and singin'--
Singin' paper bag blues.
 
Well you gone home,
And you left me alone
Nobody gonna call on the telephone
The shadows creep,
And they lay down flat
Right on the cat
And the kitchen mat.
There ain't nobody comin';
I got noplace to go,
And I finished up the last
Of the Oreos.
I got the paper bag blues--
I got the paper bag blues--
I'm gonna lay down in the kitchen,
And sing the paper bag blues.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:26 pm

Path of the Waning Day, by Charles Carreon

The Voice of the Heart
Leads through a jungle.
Sitting in a boat,
Steering with an oar through turning currents.
The waters twist through winding courses;
I follow the path of the swirls.
You cannot see the sky,
Only green light sifting through the leaves,
A glimpse of blue,
The sun like a jewel flashing high in the vines.
I am a young traveler;
It takes youth to travel this path,
It takes suppleness to follow the currents,
Endurance to keep on without clear means.
In the jungle of the heart there is still threat,
There is danger for the traveler, and fear.
The waters comfort.
The waters console.
I follow their twisting winding,
Through the trees, old as crumbling castles,
That murmur with the Voice of the Heart.
I follow the stream, that never loses its way,
I follow the paths of the waning day,
And leave no tracks behind me.
I follow, and the sound of the waters is with me.
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