another poem from the vault (seta's)

DopeBeastie

Here's to reunions, yes? You know, love... I went through your big, locked down thread this morning... that "sumerian face" piece? I can still feel the bruise. Good stuff, good man. Good Stuff. I wont call you out much on here, cuz I know you don't come 'round... but I wanted to put this up cuz it's beautiful... and unrequited love always deserves good hope and cheer.

I love you.

me

This poem was written, as a great many poems are, for a girl. Now, I realize that the inspiration is nothing short of yawn inducing but let it suffice to say that she was a remarkable woman who deserved what little ragged prose I was able to squeeze out of my bleeding Bic Rollerball. She deserved far more, of course, but my writing can only hope to reach certain ethereal heights, and while such hope takes it far.... it still appears to be more than a little acrophobic. Like most love poems it is raw and emotive but a tad juvenile as love occasionally makes us feel less than adult, to say the least; Kids in the rain who know for a FACT that if they jump in the puddles they'll get dirty, nasty, wet... but the SPLASH, oh my, the JOY...

I used to go downtown with Kate every night, to our favorite cafe... I'd read her my poetry, she'd make me laugh, we'd teach everyone there how to create wonderful Italian sodas from the oddist flavoring concoctions.. We had the occasion to meet Poe, among other folk who frequented this place, and never had a loss for conversation. I was madly in love with her, and she with me, though we never had the guts to put it out into the air... instead it was hints, ennui, insinuation thrown about like glow-in-the-dark paint only to be revealed in the afterglow at the end of the day. We never even kissed.
Still one of the single most effectual and luminescent human beings I have yet to come in contact with, I miss her to this day.

So if you ever meet a young and effervescent Jazz singer named Kate Shoup... the woman with the voice of silk and hair that does as it pleases... let her know that "that one guy" still thinks of her often... and that i still cannot live without her, though now it is her memory that haunts and comforts me.
This was for her. Kathryn Shoup.

love, seta.


DOWNTOWN/a soliloquy

I

A visionary’s soliloquy
He thought
As they gestured smoothly down the sidewalk
Towards the dancers
Miracles in small doses
Like the music they carry in their minds
They discussed their wishes to be so
Capable
While each secretly observed just how capable
The other truly was
A dancer
She lived a sunshine existence
Painted as a smiling face
In bright pastel
As her reflection glanced in all directions
Betraying the shade that even she sits in
We all relax in
In time
He was a threaded song who made his way
In no particular fashion
With his walk-a-mile-or-so-with-me attitude
A thread at times discordant
With the song of self-deprecation
A song catching
Contagious and atonal
Together their shoes molded to the pavement
In discussion lies discovery
She lightly touched the ground
Taking small flight in every zephyred flurry
Of leaves across an intersection
He walked with purpose unidentified
Hair in his eyes
He played for her
Sang as only his fingers would let him
She danced above the balcony
A melody of metamorphosis
Arms over her head
Body a wave of motion
Eyes of platinum joy
Higher
He played on
Creating the stage
Upon which their lives stood
Their transient audience passing by
Ignorant
To what was being displayed
No longer trained in the eye of beauty
They travel directed and unhappy
Knowing somewhere inside
That it really isn’t their fault
The music heard raining from above
Though self-absorbed
Was meant to affect
She swayed in the breeze
An aspen leaf in the fall
A rising star in spring
He bled music
Committed to this suicidal beauty
He bled rivers
And everywhere there were people
Who looked upwards
Reflective
Questioning
Tasted something sweet
And saw the twinkle of her final twirl
As she became the stars that were her inspiration
The city swayed in the darkness
The wind singing secrets as it caressed its way
Through the skyscrapers
She saw all this and smiled
The boy and his guitar
Jumped from the 37th balcony
Flooding the oncoming street
With a flash of light
As he sank through the air
A Dying Saint
She sang with angelic vibrato
A star born
A star reborn
In the end the gods painted her green
And dressed her in fire
As his last note faded
Into the oncoming fog
He dissipated like cigarette smoke
Blown across the park lake
Leaving behind
The puddle that reflected her ascension
The city fell
Silently
Once again a visionary’s soliloquy
A song and dance
The evanescence of painted footsteps
Evaporating this dawn
As she echoes away into the sunshine
A spherical spiritual space
She resides on a sidewalk of light
And sings her prayer of union

II

It’s 5:00 on a Sunday morning downtown
The city’s windows
An overwhelming blue in reflection
Of growing dawn
Sprinklers
The mischief makers
Misty haze
In the city center
Agriculturalizing our fair
And industrialized giant
Still sleeping
Even God rested on Sundays
Lights flicker
Overhead
Or glance off random chrome
It’s the taxicab empire
And they’ll take you anywhere
Everywhere
At the right price
The sprinklers now dance
And surround me
As the cycle has changed
The wind blows through and I’m refreshed
I don’t care if it rains for eternity
Even God rested on Sundays.

Being Enlightened

"The boy and his guitar
Jumped from the 37th balcony
Flooding the oncoming street
With a flash of light
As he sank through the air
A Dying Saint
She sang with angelic vibrato
A star born
A star reborn
In the end the gods painted her green
And dressed her in fire
As his last note faded
Into the oncoming fog
He dissipated like cigarette smoke
Blown across the park lake"

I miss this guy! His poems often moved me so much...he wrote his emotions and I really appreciate that, personally--I wanna feel the words!

DopeBeastie

i wanna feel the words, too

the intellect, gone tactile, as it were
it's good stuff, and the reason I read poetry at all