Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

For the sake of ornament and illumination.

POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:31 pm

Big House, by Charles Carreon

All my friends are disappearing;
I don't know where they go.
The clouds thin out to nothing
The waves dissolve on shore.

My suit is made of water
Propped up with hollow stones,
The sun floats somewhere in my head
Wind thrums inside my bones.

Electromagnet frequencies
Tie head to hand and toe,
And circulation systems
Are always on the go.

Hearing sounds, decoding symbols,
Ordering the stew,
Sensing's first, then making sense,
Then sensing what is true.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:32 pm

Bitter and Bile, by Charles Carreon

Bitter and Bile
Often would while
The hours away together.
Come rain or shine
Their thoughts would entwine --
Irrelevant was the weather.
Nothing disturbed them
As much as a thought
Unapproved by their mutual censor.
So when new thoughts come up
They just say "Shut up!"
And for hours they feel so much better.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:33 pm

Blackmail, by Charles CarreonI

It wasn't so nice of you to blackmail
me into loving you. You could have
tried some other way you know I have
a weakness for your type anyway.
In your daddy's car I could always
feel the bait and switch that made me
twitch. Ah but you knew, you knew
my secret and you couldn't help but
use it against me. Naughty you.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:35 pm

Boatman, by Charles Carreon

This autumn!
Mild and warm, blustery,
Day after day light and warmth prevail,
carrying on beyond their time,
Like lovers whose bond of ecstasy,
Not breaking, becomes more exquisite
with succeeding moments,
Each one drawn out lightly as a thread of silk
Unraveled from summer's cocoon.
Like a boatman who finds a stream
of clear blue sky
Running through drifting islets of dark cumulus,
And, skirting delicately those touches of frost
That would stiffen oars and rudder,
Averts the entrance of ice.

The prow parts delicately the floating mosaic
Of leaves that overcover the stream,
A stream so still as to seem directionless.
Yet the boatman is rowing
With gentle strokes upstream,
His back to the mountain of ice.

Out from the stern spreads a wedge
of ripples, and the oars with every stroke
Leave twin vortices swirling with captured leaves,
Whirling together, and unwinding into openness,
Like compasses in search of the pole.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:36 pm

Bookworm, by Charles Carreon

Bookworm, bookworm,
Living in the ashes of your
passions,
look at me and blink your lashes
Flip the page as I check the line
Of your chin
And counter your glance
with a grin.

Library closes ...
you win.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:37 pm

Boogaloo Baby and the Ripstop Mama, by Charles Carreon

As we rock the cradle
Sky darkens to sable
Don't say we're not able to love
It's a real miracle singalong
At the edge of the lawn
With a rocket star pinnacle
Pinned to the dawn
As we lift up our voices
And teeter so tall
As if standing on tiptoe
Meant anything at all
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Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:39 pm

Border Song, by Charles Carreon

Reminds me of a week I spent
one afternoon in Nogales

The rain was falling heavily
With rattlesnakes mixed in
You had to use an umbrella
and lots of anti-venin

The Border Patrol were hot to go
So I said "Hell, why not?"
The chicks were cool
The road a spool of liquor-signs
I thought a Navajo I spied as tall
as an old saguaro cactus
He just waved
As we sped by
Wearing a cheerful rictus

Down by the Rio Grande
all dressed up like a dandy
Coyote swung his watch chain
and chewed his cocaine candy
We watched the drop
the lightning fell
Then nothing was left standing
but a waterfall of millionaires
coming in for a landing

Do you find the workweek long?
Does it make your tickle tangle?
Just comb your hair
With breaths of air
And you won't ever strangle
when Armadillos talk to you
down in old Durango

The waterfall, a wheel of fire
still stutters through my sight
A rolling thing, with butter wings
That melted in the night
A phoenix then arising when
We close our eyes at last

Two men are running in the dark
Running very fast
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Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:43 pm

Buddhist Horror Flick, by Charles Carreon

Armies of zombie clergy
Dragging their malas
Wielding crowbars
and sacred implements

Led by hordes of vampires
Sangha officers and boards of directors
Engage in gang warfare,
Blasting away at each other
With blazing thunderbolts

Hot chick vampire action figures
Primed for temptation
the new generation
Of Mara's Daughters,
Slick wet look glossy lipsheen
And DiVynyl boots

Steven Seagal eight feet tall
Whuppin' them demons
One and all
With a platoon of phony tulkus
Done up Shaolin style
Using their malas
To garrote heretics

And Ambu up on the pyre
Screaming louder and louder
While I'm out in the crowd
mistaken for a madman
[Fade to Black]
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Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:50 pm

Built to Last, by Charles Carreon



Image

And the mind,
they tell us
is a chemical phenomenon
that psychopharmacologists
will wind and bind
with chemical tools.
They will come up with
pills and thrills
will be a thing of the past,
And humans will run smooth
and fast, and built to last.
We will become
the playthings of an
ideology bent on
normalcy,
The children of the womb
refined in a factory
of certainty,
The troublesome orgy of randomness
reduced at last to harmlessness,
All watched over by
nursemaids paid by the big father
in his perfect
Laboratory

(Aug '94, Colestine)
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SONG

Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:53 pm

Burn Your Bridges, by Charles Carreon



Image

My Dad taught me something
When I was young,
He was gifted with a silver tongue
He made me think that everything
Lay within my grasp
'Cause I understood
Why it pays to be good.

He always said
Burn your bridges, my son
Make no preparation for retreat
Don't think about gettin' beat
Just burn your bridges
And you'll see
There's only one road ahead
And it's the one you make
So burn your bridges
Every one.

It's a terrifying leap
That we make each day
Through the gates of hell
At least it seems that way
All the signs are misleading
I can't believe what I'm reading
Somehow gotta make it pay
Anyway

So I burn my bridges
One more time
Set out on the road that is mine
Toward the smoke of bridges burning
My mind will not be turning
Yes I've burned my bridges
One more time.

Some people worry they'll be dead someday
I don't tend to think that way
I've lost everything I ever had
And hasn't really been all that bad
The taste of the good old days
Lingers on

I've never been of the world of men
Probably had 'bout enough of them
I could burn those bridges
And feel fine.
Yes I'll burn some bridges
Anytime.
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