The languid breath of dead giants and Beatles
gently fills the puffing-up cheeks
of mystery clouds, all ready-set-go
to blow mercury drops from tragedy’s magic couplets
and the nostalgic remnants that disturb us
even now.
Today, Janis and John
will step into high plane gardens
and bark pale-face fat over
starkly black, yet wondrously whitewashed walls
of mankind’s forgotten dreams.
Such come-together promise
inspires remorse and reciprocity
to dance themselves silly upon
those curious winds
of our countenance and compromise.
Far below,
in strangely British ghettos,
a new warmth resonates amongst
lost pearls of cold-cut wisdom.
Nihilistic broodings and the anti-heroes of
utopia’s failings, cower like timid criminals
under psychopathic hoods of
psychedelic, slick-sick roadsters;
all balls
all chains
and oh so deliciously fuelled.
How the mighty imaginations of this
shallow-grave earth shall slake our withered stomachs,
lately churned dry on the brown
cud of hopelessness and a millennia of
endless, moonless nights, all drowned in cold pools
of humanity’s maybes and might-have-beens.
How our oft thwarted yearning
for unburdening resurrections
and feigned second comings
shall be satisfied in beautiful mind-games
and tremulous orgasms of gargantuan oratory.
So,
Shea stadium’s meeting Monterey:
and that brilliant ambrosia of
resolute youth shall surely yield
a garland of golden words beyond
our azure cage of absolute sky;
their words shall ring out in come together bells,
stripped bare to their blood spattered spectacles
and the needle stained depravity
of a gargoyle girl from Texas.
Their conversation begins:
John:
I would have said thanks for the birthday card
but you were dead before I got it.
Janis:
No matter; if I hadn’t a died
we mightn’t ever have met.
John:
Then be thankful for small mercies
Janis recoils at his arrogance, and through scarlet eyes, she turns
rusted screws inside her head
and shrieks:
Hey Jimi! – got any fucking beer?
Author notes
For Janis, John, Jimi, Liam, Noel and Cinn.
A contest entry
- Maybe by Cinnarry.
6500 points, ended November 9, 9 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - CELEBRATE 17 NOVEMBER- FOR AWARD-WINNING POEMS OF THE PAST YEAR by Vera Rich.
700 points, ended November 30, 94 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Sorry ...
the font is so faint I couldn't read this. Congrats on the Gold anyway.
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There is much to savor within this piece, not the least of which are reminiscences of a nostalgic manner, for those of us who grew up with their music. This is a marvelous tribute to them all. I would suggest, however, that you might wish to change the background and/or font colors, as it is quite difficult to read as it is. Merely a matter of personal choice, but that is why we post, is it not? To be read? Good luck in the contest, Poet. 
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I wrote this on my wonderwall...in midnight blues. awestruck Thank you Kezz.
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Well I just fell off my perch! What a surprise, honour and gobsmacker this is! Thank u so Cinn - really glad you enjoyed.
Kx
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lolol love that ending and I think Cin could add a few comments to it too
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stirring imagery snowballs into the perfect ending. i see no flaws. sensational.
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Bloody brilliant as the Brits would say . . . I travelled down your ethereal highway until I got to the conversation at the end and all I could do was nod my head and mutter an appreciative yes, yes . . .
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