Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

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Poetry and Songs
by Charles Carreon

NOTICE: THIS WORK MAY BE PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT

YOU ARE REQUIRED TO READ THE COPYRIGHT NOTICE AT THIS LINK BEFORE YOU READ THE FOLLOWING WORK, THAT IS AVAILABLE SOLELY FOR PRIVATE STUDY, SCHOLARSHIP OR RESEARCH PURSUANT TO 17 U.S.C. SECTION 107 AND 108. IN THE EVENT THAT THE LIBRARY DETERMINES THAT UNLAWFUL COPYING OF THIS WORK HAS OCCURRED, THE LIBRARY HAS THE RIGHT TO BLOCK THE I.P. ADDRESS AT WHICH THE UNLAWFUL COPYING APPEARED TO HAVE OCCURRED. THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING THE RIGHTS OF COPYRIGHT OWNERS.

Charles Carreon, The Arizona Kid

Table of Contents:

• 1984 Christmas Card from the Notorious Carreons
• 2 AM Swim at the Sunset Cliffs
• A Good Roar
• A Measure of Value
• A Mexican Fourth of July
• After Troy
• Ahi Sandwich
• All Along the Spine of the Siskiyous
• All Rise
• Ambu Baba and the Forty Thieves
• An Atlas of Her Body
• An Ideal Achieved
• Android
• Angels Do Not
• A Cry of Vultures
• Architecture
• Autumn Poem
• Baby Boom, Kaboom
• Backroads Driver
• Bankers from Hell
• Bay Area Nonsense Poem #1
• Beastly Man With Savoie Faire
• Bedtime Prayer
• Better Safe Than Sorry
• Beware Software
• Big House
• Bitter and Bile
• Blackmail
• Boatman
• Bookworm
• Boogaloo Baby and the Ripstop Mama
• Border Song
• Buddhist Horror Flick
• Built to Last
• Burn Your Bridges
• Burning Man Journal
• Bush Riders Outta Control
• Buy American
• Campus
• Can't Change the Channel
• Cat Whiskers
• Che!
• Child of Fortune
• Circuit of Light
• Clearcut
• Coffee Drinking Cockroach
• Cold Street Light
• Colestine Ragtime
• Come Back Salmon
• Conan Doyle Said To Rudyard Kipling
• Condoleezza
• Cool World
• Cosmic Enron Bookkeeping
• Crash Landing
• Crete
• Day One of Last Day Diary
• Dazbidanya, Amerikanski
• December 26, 2005
• Declaration
• Dedicated to Dominique Sanda
• Deity Clutter
• Deliver Us From Evil
• Diamond Bullets
• Diggers
• Disarm Cheney Before He Shoots Someone Else
• Doin' God's Work
• Don't Kill Nobody
• Don't Let It Get You Down
• Don't Mess With My Mom
• Dorothy Chandler's Dead
• Dream Descent
• Elvis Must Die
• Engine
• Everybody Wants to Be Like Paris Hilton
• Evolution
• Explode on the Border
• Eye for Eye
• Factors
• Fake News, Self-Censorship and the Three Stupid Monkeys
• Four Stars
• Freak
• Freedom From Fear
• From a Dream
• Fuck the NWO
• Gargoyle
• Ghost Sheriff
• Glimpsed in the Mirror of Dreams
• God Loves a Hypocrite
• Gold
• Good Evening, Cottonwood
• Good Morning, Cottonwood
• Hard Time For A Free Mind
• Hanging Joke
• Harsh Words
• Hazard!
• He's a man
• He Screams
• Heaven's Perfect
• Holy Writ
• Homage a Spinrad
• Homage to the Lama
• Hot Mamas
• Hotel Babylonia
• How Shiraz Spent One of Her Nine Lives
• I Ain't Hatin' Satan
• I am Attached
• I Ask You ...
• I Became a Luddite
• I Declare
• I Don't Love Lucy
• Idle Musing
• Idyll
• I Got My Buddhas
• In Town
• Internet Addiction
• In the Womb of Stone
• Is It Thunder?
• Island
• It's a Predatory Civilization
• It's Gonna Get Worse (Before It Gets Better)
• It's Tantra Baby
• Jail Tale
• Kindness, Freedom, Honesty, Courage
• Land of No Sun
• Last Week
• Law Firm
• Let's Go Back to the Days of Dialup
• Lightning Bolt
• Lips
• Lone Madman
• Loneliness
• Longing Lament at Eventide in Chinese Style
• Lorenzo's Parting Thoughts
• Love Letter to Cottonwood Creek (West Fork)
• Luck
• Magic
• Magician's Hat
• Mama's Home!
• May
• Merry Man
• Metamorphosis
• Michelangelo Said To Diego Rivera
• Mind in Eclipse
• Mirror Dance
• Moon
• Moon's Goin' Down
• More Magic Than You'll Ever Know
• Moth
• Mother's Day
• Mother's Voice
• Multiple Gunshot Suicides
• Murder Czar
• My Red Sky
• Nailed
• National Roulette
• New Season
• Nice
• Night Wandering
• No Karma Karma
• No Stopping It
• No Doubt I Was Born a Fool
• Non-memory
• Not Everyone All At Once ...
• Nova Donna's Valentine
• Of What Hypothesis Are You Capable?
• Off-Planet Haiku by Zafu
• Ohhh! Bama
• On Buddhist Boards
• On the Origin of Clouds
• One View of History
• Ordinary World
• Panorama
• Paper Bag Blues
• Path of the Waning Day
• Pat Robertson For President
• Persona
• Pig Party
• Pistolero
• Plan "B"
• Planet Earth, 2008
• Plastic Doesn't Breathe
• Pocket Essay Re: Ramones
• Practical Wisdom
• President Evil
• Professor Dee
• Psychic Cartography
• Psycho Santa
• Rain Heard Outside the Open Window of the Motel Room
• Reese's Cups
• Requiem
• Retreat Days
• Reunion
• Reverie
• Run, Run, Ambu Run
• Safe From Realization
• Sandwich
• Seed
• Shadow Children
• She Was Born
• Signs of the Times
• Silver
• Sinecure of Moonlight
• Skull Behind Your Smile
• Slender Threads
• Smoky Night
• Smug Pig
• Soldier
• Somebody's Wearin' a Skull Necklace
• Sorcerer
• Spring
• Stranger Destination
• Suicide Santa
• Summer
• Supernatural Wail
• Sword of the Wind
• Tales of the Pioneers
• Tasting the Edge of Dawn
• Thanksgiving Day 2019
• ... That Naughty Girl
• The Atom
• The Ballad of Javier Solis
• The Boatman Song
• The Company You Keep
• The Consummation of Snarfo
• The Devil Came to Cibolo

-- Skipping Scalia autopsy spawns conspiracy theories, By Gregory Krieg
-- The death of Antonin Scalia: Chaos, confusion and conflicting reports, By Eva Ruth Moravec, Sari Horwitz and Jerry Markon
-- Why Should You and I Have to Keep Paying Mitch McConnell’s Salary?, By Jim Hightower

• The Dice Man Meets Nixon and Me at 4:30 A.M. in the Downtown Portland Days Inn
• The Galleries of Sky
• The Jester Has His Say
• The Last Limousine
• The Lemming National Anthem
• The Minotaur of Hollywood, A Harvey Weinstein Production
• The Old Veto (V-Toe)
• The Oracle
• The People
• The Point is Nothing
• The Samba of Ignorance
• The Starlit Tomb
• The Trojan Horse
• The Universe Begins With "A"
• The Waterfall
• The Wilshire Bus
• The World Won't Work Anymore
• The Yurt
• They're Looking So Pretty
• Tibetan Two-Step, Shuffle & Slide
• To Rage
• Tough Lady
• Trans-Human
• Trash
• TV Man
• Tyrannophilia
• Umbilicus
• Untitled
• Upon a Mighty Mountain
• Vajra
• Very Twisted
• Vlad and Me
• Walking on the Razor's Edge
• We Are Not Alone
• Wedding at Canaa
• What the Eye Wants to See
• What We Are
• When I Was Alone at the Edge of the World
• When You Really Ask Yourself
• Whoa Earth
• Windy Weather Sets You to Thinking
• World Class Buddhist Shopper
• Workin' For The CIA
• Worst Horse
• Yearning to Fly
• You Can't Defeat An Avocado
• You Got Played
• Zombies Don't Come

[admin]

1984 Christmas Card From the Notorious Carreons, by Charles Carreon



HOLIDAY SPECIALS
WE CAN:
Obtain money for your pain & suffering
O'Keefe's face
can be lethal as well.
The problem will only get worse.
But there's a way out.



Less ALTERNATIVE
The good citizens
of L.A.
cordially invite you
to A THAI RESTAURANT
the Freeway Concerto for
trombone and cars
the death of the charioteers
Chicano and Mexican music
the shine of sweat on
male and female alike,
hordes of rumpled citizens
walking the streets, glassy-eyed
and slack-jawed chanting
"Koyaanisqatsi"
in a deep, booming whisper



And think how twisted we are,
the troupe has always dangled from
the competitors
the collective
anguish
hell and damnation
stink bomb capitalist
the classical tradition
devilish talent
reading, preaching and
converting the crowd
bicyclists mix with rank amateurs
enough to induce vertigo in the hardiest
cross between W.C. Fields
and Nina Hagen
Bring a friend
I wanna go.
parking limited
Merry
X-mas
from
L.A.
and the
NOTORIOUS CARREONS!
LUV-2-ALL

[admin]

2 AM Swim At The Sunset Cliffs, by Charles Carreon



Pizza slinging done for the night --
After-hours Budweiser consumed.
Close the back door.
Silent dark streets, ocean roar
off to the right -- Japan, China, Hawaii, over there.
Beach condos, occupants asleep.
Dark waves rolling in.
Walking down the sidewalk damp with mist,
My shadow goes first before me, then behind,
slave to the nearest streetlamp.
Cut down from the well-lit cul-de-sac,
Squeeze between a wall and some barbed wire,
Follow a sandy track to the base of the cliffs.
Dark, calm sea, a slopping wet hugeness
Clawing softly at the shore.
I strip and roll my clothing up,
Wade into water black as pitch.
The sandy shelf tips sharply down
I feel like a pencil about to roll
off the edge; three or four steps
And the wetness closes over me,
limbs floating in a threatening womb,
Fathomless, pulling, down, down, deeper --
Appalling to the inner ear;
I try to float, abandoning effort, weight,
and thought, but I can't
Do it. Clearly I see a gleaming knot
of twisted iron. That's me/it's death.
Back in the land of the living --
My wallet, My pants, My glasses. I'm wet skin.
Walking with shoes on back to the travelall.
Down the freeway under serials of arc-lamps.

[admin]

A Good Roar, by Charles Carreon

Charles Carreon's re-write of a Dudjom Rinpoche poem
(see original below)

A good roar
Empties acres of wilderness.
On snowy peaks
Among waterfalls,
My mane hangs loose.

With my sharp eyes and iron talons,
Who would hide in a pile of bricks?
These wings climb thermals
Spiralling staircases
That go everywhere --
No one can follow me into the sky.

Flashing fiery stripes
In green-leafed chaos
Draped with venomous reptiles,
I’m safe from everything, and
Smell that – what a nice smell!

My wings are crazy fast
They wind up and
I’m bang-on for those fat blossoms
Let’s dive into that pollen
Drink up all that sweetness
And hummm together

With naked feet and clear sight,
I’m happy in here.
We can do this.
Nice day, huh?

_______________

Dudjom Rinpoche's Version

A song I sang as I was about to depart from Kongpo to wander aimlessly in central Tibet and other regions:

I, a roaring lion, do not need a palace:
My lion palace is the snow mountains’ exalted heights.
I shake my excellent turquoise mane as I please
As I roam at will in delightful snow mountain ravines.

I, an eagle, do not need a fortress:
My white eagle fortress is the loftiest cliff.
I spread wide my excellent wings as I please
As I soar through the space of the vast blue heavens.

I, a tiger, do not need a castle:
My tiger castle is the densest jungle.
I show off my stripes as I please
As I set out to prowl in the best sandalwood forests.

I, a golden bee, do not need farmland:
My bee farmland is the fines lotus groves.
I sing beautiful melodious songs as I please
As I hover to take the sweetest tasting nectar.

I, a yogi, do not need a home:
My yogi home is good any place I roam.
I naturally achieve my two noble goals
As I set out to wander aimlessly as I please.

I Dudjom, spoke this nonsense.

_______________

John Potts' Version

*A song I sang as I was about to depart from Kongpo, to wander aimless in central Tibet and other regions**

I'm a roaring lion, I don't need a palace:
My lion palace is the snow mountains’ lofty heights.
Shaking my excellent turquoise mane just as I please
Freely roaming in delightful snow mountain ravines.

I'm an eagle, I do not need a fortress:
My white eagle fortress is the highest cliff.
Spreading my excellent wings as wide as I please
Soaring through the space in vast heavens of blue.

I'm a tiger, I don't need a castle:
My tiger castle is the densest jungle.
Flaunting my stripes, just as I please
Setting out to prowl the finest sandalwood forests.

I'm a golden bee, I don't need farmland:
My bee farmlands are the finest lotus groves.
Singing beautiful melodious songs, just as I please
Hovering to drink the sweetest tasting nectar.

I'm a yogi, I don't need a home:
My yogi's home is good, anywhere I roam.
Naturally achieving my two noble goals
Setting out to wander aimlessly, just as I please.

I myself, Dudjom, spoke this nonsense.

[admin]

A Measure of Value, by Charles Carreon (14 yrs. old)



If of value at all
It has its roots in desire
And cravings,
Lusts and wants beyond understanding.
It must be needed as life by life,
And no less

(1969)

[admin]

A Mexican Fourth of July, by Charles Carreon





There once was a man named Columbus
Italian I think that he was
He got lost on the way to the Indies
And laid claim to this country instead

The people who lived here were Mayas
Olmecas, Toltecas and such
We worshipped among the volcanoes
And lived in traditional huts

We lived mainly on beans and tortillas
With tomatoes and chilies for spice
We built pyramids bigger than Walmarts
But the greeters were not very nice.

When Cortez arrived sometime later
He kidnapped the Mexican King
We had heavy clubs and obsidian knives
But against bullets they don't do a thing.

The Padres and Popes screwed us freely
And the Spanish gave way to the French
Benito Juarez strung up Maximillian
Ruling Mexico's never a cinch.

Of course, we once owned California
Arizona, New Mexico, too
We mined gold, silver and turquoise
But not like Americans do.

Then you dammed up the water, you bastards,
The Colorado no longer flows free
To the Golfo de California
You took it for nothing from me.

You make fun of our clothes and our English
Even though Espanol you can't speak
You deride us for tanning so darkly
While you hide from the sun like a freak.

Go on laugh, you pinche Cabrones
Laugh until you piss your pants
We are the ones with cojones
Move aside, so that we can get past.

We won't spit in your milkshake, hermano
In fact let me supersize that
More fries? Absolutely senora,
When compared with a pig, you're not fat.

You watch porn like you're all maricones
Jerking off while your wives waste away
When you forget how to screw altogether
I will call that a wonderful day.

When cute Mexicanas are flirting
Red blooded chamacos must play
It's true we don't do much computing
You don't make Mexicanos that way.

You're going to build walls on the border
With Mexican Labor I hear
The Israelis tried that in their desert
Soon we'll have suicide beaners here.

You are laughing, I see mi amigo,
Your sonrisa is smiling so bright
So have one of these chili poppers
On a Mexican fourth of July.

[admin]

After Troy, by Charles Carreon



To destroy another's homeland is not brave.
The gods appoint the hours
Of man's destruction, and enemies
But loot the ruins of that which heaven overturns.

To be long away from home in battle is not sweet.
The spirit craves only the warmth of the home fires,
The familiar shape of one's own island
Carved against the sky.

An old goat sticks to the highlands
Where men don't trust their feet.
A clever fellow watches and waits.
Time does his work for him.

Now numberless leagues of sea
Separate my men from those they love.
The waves give not a single inch,
And silence is heard from above.

Adventures have carved sinews on my back,
Streaked my beard with grey.
The work of outwitting gods and men,
Is with me every day.

Scylla and Charybdis will I dare
Their gnashing teeth will meet my glare,
And Circe with her magics try
And little better fare.

As Heracles for golden apples
Journeyed to the sun,
So to join Penelope,
The longest race I'll run.

[admin]

Ahi Sandwich, by Charles Carreon



There was a man
who had a band
And a pocketful of sand
He took my hand
And in my eyes
He looked to find
Another kind of mind there

It was an Ahi Sandwich moment
A real tantalizing torment
to realize we'd never make it to the moon
Might even work until we jerk
Upon the end of the hangman's rope
Ah you could hope
Like the fellow at the Owl Creek Bridge
Never to wake
From the last dream

[admin]

All Along the Spine of the Siskiyous, by Charles Carreon

It's a soft-focus night, moonless and mute.
Truck-light on the freeway
filters through gentle rain drifting
from the mountains,
cloaking the valley.

In the upper reaches of the valley,
a southward-running ridge,
a finger of forest reaching
into the drylands of California.
Winds stream by,
Stirring the tall trees,
Bearing a harvest of clouds.
To the north -- coolness and moisture.
In the south -- valleys filled with dry grass.
There is tension between the two.
They lie next to each other,
all along the spine of the Siskiyous,
everything touching, licking each other
with tongues of clouds.
In the morning,
The fruit of their love
is fresh-fallen snow.

[admin]

All Rise, by Charles Carreon

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.

1/30/94, Colestine