Rogue Poetry (Eight Poems)

Rogue Poetry

[Commentary Im not so young anymore, I seem to think Ive recognized something that has escaped most of the modern age that perhaps most of us are people lost inside our own heads.

When I look at my past, it now seems to be akin to roads unprepared, rivers still with old levees, and fields full of weeds, and unplowed. I suppose you can say that of any new generation coming onto the sceneone feels they have not enough time to finish what they started before the new one takes over. It is indeed a pilgrimage to write about it, in plain terms.

Few people recognize the poets and writers I quote today, a few select perhaps dohere I shall lay bare the sleeping world, and bare my soul, perhaps the rogue in me will come out:

1)Tired Rogue Poet

I feel we are being closed i n!
from all that I have seen.
Im tired, otherwise Id find
some hope I suppose: finished.

I am fifty-eight years of age;

year of the water-downed bird.
I am ill a lot of the time, my
mind is severed from my head

i noticed this a few nights ago when I tired to go to bed.

#1021 12/23/2005

2)Eccentric Poet

Flesh and bonea
haunted mind;
i change with my moods,
my moods are my
weather.
I do not blame my mind
for my hallucinations
its all gossip that descends
on eccentrics
descends from the heavens
or seeps up from hell!

#1022 12/05

3)The Butterfly and Me

When Im walking,
whomever Im talking to
(and it could be myself),
in the mist of madness
walking with, or at a
caf reading a book,
newspaper, Poetryetc:
it can appear, the moment
when the poem itself manifests
like a butterfly, stretching
its wings for the first time
it can appear, so I speak out!...

#1023 12/24/05

4)Christmas Madness

How many people stare into space,
contemplate their faith, or capture
a moment of indignity?

Christmas is two days away; no,
23-hours and thirty-five minutes.
Woops! Not too far off

and were all standing in front of
department stores; walking down
malls: what a crazy faith!

#1027 12/24/05

5)Lost Worlds

There are other worlds out there to live on
im surebut someone doesnt want us to know;
thus, making this one, the only one, the absolute one,
in place of the lost one, the oneonly they know.

#1024 12/23/2005

6) The Nature of Time

One time, is all time
and time you cannot change;
barer, it can be stretched
or frozenbut the nature of< Br> time remains; a passage
to eternity.

#1025 12/23/2005

7)This is About Life

Poetry recalls the memory
of a past experience (existence)
to whoever has forgotten
that life is the one thing
that makes the universe
shine and ring..!

#1026 12/24/05

8) The Squirrel Cage

They do not change in
The squirrel cage
Mans old single compulsions!

#1029 12/23/2005

8)Abhorred Old Drunk

The pall old drunk stood in the street,
abhorred he stood looking at me,
his severed thumb hanging by a thread,
he shit in his pants, a car almost killed him;
his rainbow of life, like a candle put out
I could see it in his eyes; a blank stare,
not knowing what happened, hanging on
to his thumbin mid air: hanging on, on
standing there, there in the street
(back in 88); why do I think of it now (?)
its much too late: its Christmas Time: 2005.

#1032 12/24/05; note: sobriety is a way of life, and I can only say for those who have tasted the bitterness of the drink, I will tell you now, get out of hells grip, before its too late; Im recovering, had I not started 22-years ago, Id never had made it to fifty-eight years old (I would have died back before my 40th birthday). Merry Christmas to you; and Happy Birthday Lord. Dlsiluk

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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