Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

For the sake of ornament and illumination.

POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:36 am

Somebody's Wearin' A Skull Necklace, by Charles Carreon

Somebody's wearin' a skull necklace
'round the place 2-nite,
She's dancin' in the moonlight,
shinin' mighty bright,
She's dancin' dressed in scarlet,
under the dim barlight.
No one knows why she does it,
her smile is so sincere,
But when lips curl back
and canines snap
Even grown men fear,
Becuz somebody's wearin' a
Skull necklace tonight,
A girl so sweet is rarely seen
by those with human sight,
Yes somebody's wearin' a
Skull necklace tonight,
and if you wanna dance with her
Be sure you treat her right!
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:37 am

Sorcerer, by Charles Carreon

Slip click drop shell into chamber
Turn pull trigger
Take you out fathersucker
Don't know where you came from
Why you won't die
But tell you what
You'll have to stamp
this nigger's ass "DEAD"
Before I eat one tiny piece
Of your shit.
Your spell book's so long
I get tired just reading one page of it,
Still sometimes I'd like to
cut a deal with you and get
the skinny on how, where, what, why
and oh what the hell
It's outta the question
like Saddam Hussein trying
to buy a Patriot missile,
Just not gonna happen now is it.
So, there's no way to learn
but to go rounds with you
and I've done it ...
Your tiny signature,
Your perfect arguments,
Your "we'd be pleased,"
Your acid pen,
But I surprised you, didn't I?
I surprised you when I got so crazy
and so disciplined
When I hopped your barbed wire
and my witnesses laughed at your face
And money meant shit
When fire and lead fed the day
Sweet combat --
My boot kicking down your door
Pointing that muzzle
Pulling that trigger --
Ooh, that had to hurt.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:39 am

Spring, by Charles Carreon

Image

spring
she comes with a clear snap,
like an icicle breaking
 she's pretty
 
the cold tingles her cheeks
 
there's dew on her young breasts,
small like budding roses
 
when sunlight comes
her eyes are clear skies
she'll let you kiss her
gently
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:41 am

Stranger Destination, by Charles Carreon

I've got a stranger destination,
Behind the locked code
Of your eyes,
And the means of infiltration,
Besides.
When I want you,
It's not because of
Anything I've ever known before,
It sparks and flies
Over the darkening skies,
And there are a thousand choruses
Singing in your eyes,
Besides.
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SONG

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:44 am

Suicide Santa, by Charles Carreon



Image

It was the Night before Christmas
And all down the road,
The truckers were pulling
Their Chinese loads

Haulin' that crap
To Wal-Mart and such
So we can bury our kids
Under a mountain of junk

Only assholes hate Christmas
Least that's what they said
And when he heard it a lightbulb
burned out in his head

He flipped into overdrive
And picked up his suit
He was a jolly old fella
With bombs in his boots

He was a Suicide Santa
With tears in his eyes
For his message to the world
He was happy to die
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo

Well he made a long list
Of bad boys and girls
We'd be better off losing
From this great big world

Millionaires, Billionaires,
Trillionaires, friends
Bankers and lawyers
The ones who know best

He tucked that list
in his suicide vest,
Headed out on the freeway
To the Vegas strip

He was dressed real nicely
for his final act
Wasn't gonna stick around
for a heart attack

He was a Suicide Santa
With tears in his eyes
For his message to the world
He was happy to die
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo

He called himself in to 911
Said he was headed for Caesar's to have some fun
Loaded for bear, let the SWAT team come,
They're welcome to die, every goddamn one

Security parted like the Damn Red Sea
When Moses stretched out
his rod, you see,
He was a smilin' mass of notoriety

He was a Suicide Santa
With tears in his eyes
For his message to the world
He was happy to die
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo
Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo

He cleared out the dealers
From the gambling hall
To the poor broke players
He gave it all

He told the band to play White Christmas,
and to the showgirls said sit down,
saying, "I'm not ready yet
to blow this town"

That seemed to relax
the tension a notch
He lit himself a stogie
And asked for some scotch
With his boots on the table,
He savored a sip
And said to the cameras
"What a helluva trip,"
Here I threaten to kill 'em
Now I'm in the chips"

Cause I'm a Suicide Santa
But I'm not insane
It's just lately
This terrible pain
We'll all have to suffer
for the mess they made
So I'm a Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo
A Suicide Santa
Doo, doo, doo, doo

Then he pulled an alarm clock
From one of his boots
Hooked a wire up to it
and then said "Boo!"

The people fell back
And moved for the door
Except one old chick
A used-up whore

She said if you don't mind
I'll sit with you
As far as I could tell
This show's about through

He pulled out a chair
And poured her a shot
He said, "At this here table
We bet the whole damn pot."

'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa
And on Christmas Day
We'll light these candles
In a magic way
Convert the doubters
And believers, too
Show 'em the shimmy
Like we used to do

'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa,
And it's Christmas Day,
You can push my button
Any goddamn day
'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Suicide Santa
Yeah yeah yeah

Well it was all over Google
On Christmas Day
How Suicide Santa
Made his getaway

From the rooftops of Vegas
Where he hitched a ride
In a stolen copter
That flew outta sight

Flying over the mountains
Last seen heading north
As fast as Mel Gibson
In a speeding Porsche

He leaned out the window
With his Newlywed wife
Smilin' like Elvis
Under the lights
He said "Merry Christmas
And to all a good night
May good boys and girls
Learn how to not fight

'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa
And it's Christmas Day
I've got my toys,
So now it's time to play
I'm Suicide Santa
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Suicide Santa
Ho, ho, ho

I'm a Suicide Santa
And it's Christmas Day
I've got my toys,
Now it's time to play-heh-heh yeah
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:47 am

Summer, by Charles Carreon

And then the radiant days of summer came
to wash away indifferent pain,
to grow the leaves of green again
and warm the bones of tired old men
extend the playtimes of the young
The days of summer came again.

The days of summer came again
and we as well arrived,
in pickup trucks and colored tents
in hippy garb and Wal Mart threads
in Winnebagos, jeeps and beetles,
on motorbikes and even jet-skis
wasting time and drinking beer
not even feeling slightly queer,
The days of summer come again
and we together all with them.

The foolish American people ride
a roller coaster up one side forever
mounting high it's summer always
till we die, the days of summer come again
our thoughts drift southward to our friends;
The fruits grow heavy, the tree boughs bend,
The days of summer come again.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:48 am

Supernatural Wail, by Charles Carreon

As I rode home just yesternight
I heard the banshee scream,
And a strange wind came
from the wild fen, and my heart
began to grieve.
I laid the lash to my horse's flank
and spurred her through the dark;
Her shoes struck hard in the moistened earth;
Her hooves flung flying sod.
The oaks along the river bank
were shook as by a storm,
And as I dodged their tossing arms
I prayed to the Blessed One.
I left the winding river road
at the base of the Eastern hills,
But behind still followed an evil laughter,
the omen of sorrow and ills.
Still urging on my faithful mare, whose
mane seemed touched with elfish fire,
We bounded over the tumbled stones
and leapt the tangled briars.
As I crested the knoll I sought the light
of my cottage below in the vale --
Only dark met my eyes -- in the meaningless night
I heard the departing wail.
The spell was broke and filled at once as my
horse blew a shuddering breath.
We both looked around at the glittering sky
as silent and strange as death.
Down in the valley I wandered all night,
'till dawn came to seal my despair,
And away in the village, the people, all strange,
regard me with awe and chagrin,
And kindly say, "Sir, in the place that you name,
there's never a house that has been."
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:49 am

Sword of the Wind, by Charles Carreon

Penetrating the interstices
of the world,
Breathing through the holes,
gaps, and cracks
in mountains, caverns
trees and teetering shacks,

The sword of the wind,
delicate as a whisper,
tastes the surfaces
of all exposed forms,
savoring the contours of terrain.

With deft, gentle strokes,
pressing the formless form of mist,
with unbluntable edge
shaping the clouds
like a swordsman playing with smoke,
sometimes leading, sometimes following,

Dividing the hills,
dabbling the surfaces of
lakes and brooks,
rattling the dry branches
of winter, removing every
wisp that obscures the
eye of the sun,

The implacable blade has
innumerable emanations,
everywhere addressing the
face of substance, even in
stillness standing at attention
with the edge before.

Light itself blesses the blade,
An invisible gleam runs all down its length,
And settles in the empty sky.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:53 am

Tales of the Pioneers, by Charles Carreon

Image

The old ones came when they were young.
Beautiful, without shoes,
Treading delicately on morning dew,
Drinking dawn air like
An ecstatic fluid.

The old ones knew nothing when they came,
Having fled homes of privilege,
The taste of things rustic being novel,
Their works were fanciful,
Emblazoned with imagery of dreams.

The old ones shared seed with each other,
And children blossomed like wildflowers
Covering the hillsides way up the mountains.
The old ones built the corrals of stone,
The houses of wood, dug the wells.

The old ones left an ambiguous legacy --
Prayer flags flap in the breeze,
Their words were those of libertines,
Sacrifice and ceremony were known to them,
But a cacophonous destructive tone marked their songs.

The old ones did not give much thought to history --
Their early goals changed like tadpoles,
Just in time when the puddles dried up,
And pragmatism drove them on when ideals
Proved too capricious to bear the load.

The old ones broke the soil
And it sullied them;
The first generation shall not see
The promised land; from the love
Of my ten thousand descendants
Shall come the seed to save my heart.

(1/14/94, Colestine)
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POETRY

Postby admin » Tue Oct 01, 2013 4:56 am

Tasting the Edge of Dawn, by Charles Carreon

Image

In the chill morning
The dark, solid shadows of the pines & firs
Dominate the hillside,
Permitting only glimpses
Of the pre-dawn moon, glowing
Full and naked
In the cloudless, star-specked sky
Above the western ridge.

The dawn comes gently creeping,
Preparing the arrival of the sun,
A spreading ripple of radiance,
Silencing gentle chatter
In the gallery of the stars.
The eastern mountains,
Robed in darkness,
Backlit in silver-blue,
Call the earth to order,
True vassals of the sovereign,
Enthroned through no power
Of their own, their voices rumbling
In profound serenity
Downward through deep veins of stone
As quickening light touched
Their peaks
And opens eyes of snow.

A tiny man of flesh and bone
Wandering over the frozen dirt
That glitters with countless crystals
Of frozen water,
Will gaze about him and
Beneath him
And discover
A lack of tethers,
A great silence ready to respond
With echoes only to his any word.
Tree bark, lichen-patched stone,
Blades of dried grasses
Rimed with frost --
One need only forget
To be utterly lost.

Residing on a spinning ball
We cannot depart from
But only fall into,
We forget the cliff,
The abyss of no experience
Into which we will tumble
When death pulls his abrupt
And exceedingly impractical joke.

Nevertheless, all rise,
The sovereign Lord appears,
Speaking eloquently with
Ten million warming rays
To bathe, caress and possess
All the numberless creatures
Born of boundlessness.

Colestine, 1/30/94
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