Monday, April 6, 2009

Attention (a ballad)

The interlude (bulk of the poem, really,) and first stanza following it is the most awesome and vivid dream I've ever had, put to words. I elaborated on one element, one stanza only, (for me to know,) and in that, only to punctuate and emphasize the dream as a whole.

A love poem, of alienation (self-imposed, as always,) friendship, envy, desire, self-deception and misunderstanding, transformation, redemption (hopefully,) and finding our way, despite ourself.

Objectivity is difficult--it is so crystal clear to me--I also lived this dream. I hope something comes through to the reader. If not, pardon me my self-indulgence.


Would you only understand—
Bottoms up, last four;
As, Beautiful, a happiness
Drained ’way before the door.

One starting-ending-starting year,
Chance or luck would see me home.
Right arm into left-hand sleeve
Of frayed, unrav’ling fabric of the known.

Don’t mistake the cold, blunt end.
Sharp starts give us the cue.
And by the pointy turns of fate,
Our passage we’re shown through.

Loose, untamed beast drags iron chains,
Wild and mad men dancing ‘round,
Like blood thund’ring in my veins,
It tears through caverns underground.

Primal beat and fev’rish panting,
‘long with an unearthly chanting,
Burning torches, raging strains, and then,
It powers forth into the open.

Clean and mean, its way it’s messing,
Shrieking; gasping; wails; a scream.
As I dread, mid-pounce, it turns,
Its all compassing mind on me.

Fierce-some speed it came so swift,
More like I was brought to it,
Yet, this way, also, seemed to go—
Time stood still, all movement slowed.

In gradient measure, features changing;
Creatureous countenance transformed.
In silent, still, hypnotic pose,
We’re eye to eye, and nose to nose.

This moment, void of time, in no place nor space,
Within me, deeply scored, so indelibly.
I’ll hold it close—periluminous grace—
Young Mythic Lion’s gentle-bearded, human face.

Quick--He strikes at me—
Slashing claw tears ‘way my cloths,
Final roar, to own purpose goes.

Sound, whole, perplexed—(such odd rebirth—)
Naked and alone I’m left,
A dram of blood upon my chest.

Beast now, upward toward
Stars’ own space rushing,
They in concert spin, surround,
Arms reach; crying; beg a Blessing.

Others fall unburnt to earth…

With these, I sit alone, without
Craving, yearning on, such is desire.
Knowing-glasses. “Did you get one?”
“No, not I.” “Me neither?”

Enmity, yet no foe I strove to be
A friend, yes even family.
Now after all, I’ve one too,
And send it, quickly, back to you.

You might say this one’s on me,
With cheers, share this clear shot.
Be sure, true’s every way to stress—
Never was what I did want.

--Marty Kummetz

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