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Wednesday, February 16, 2011

CONTRIBUTION


















Everyone who was alive in 1885 has jumped ship.
Where'd they go? We don't know.
But they've taken their secrets with them.

And you and I, fast becoming museum pieces,
are on that same journey from the relevant to the obscure--
eyes soon to be staring from a sepia-toned photo
in the glass encased confines of the local historical society.

And what have you contributed to the dialogue, my boy,
and will any of it survive the fuzzy TV snowstorm screen of time?
And what would they know of the real you
if indeed a name or a photograph survived?

Still, you'd like to be remembered--and don't know why--
though you think it has something to do with being loved.
And you're content to write shit in silent protest of your solitude.
And you feign indifference in your involuntary celibacy,
telling yourself that ass isn't all it's cracked up to be--
though in truth it's just like food--no big deal until you have to go without.

And you wonder at what exact moment did you cross the line
from "so fine" to something more akin to what the cat drug in.
And why didn't anyone warn you of the impending disaster?
Now, generally, you avoid mirrors, though sometimes
you seek them out with a morbid curiosity.

In elementary school we sang "Frere Jacques"
and "When Those Caissons Go Rolling Along"
in our gruffest soprano voices.
"Play That Funky Music White Boy"
had not yet seared its way into our psyche--
the circadian rhythm of time still on the verge
of breaking into a more primal beat.
Now, all the young women are turning bi-sexual,
SO TIRED of waiting for guys to call...
and the beat goes on.

Dawn's curtain rises above the prairie.
Actors resigned to their fate
begin to stir and vie for parking spots.
Sweeping west, reptilian eyes blink and greet the sun.
Palm fronds sway in the breeze,
and your island dreams are dashed
in the swell of concrete--the shimmering heat
rising to meet the sky, and you and I
are no closer to our first hello and our last goodbye.

Day is done. The local TV newscasters--
so Shirley Temple serious--
so imbued with their own sense of self-importance,
as if anyone will give a damn
about the words they mouth from a teleprompter
ten years from now...or even next week.
Surely, my boy, YOU can manufacture
something with a longer shelf-life.

Or maybe not.

Maybe just another face in the group photograph
turning yellow with age--
waiting for some stranger
contemplating the swift passage of time.






48 comments:

  1. I hate how good this is, yet I love it.

    Damn you, Timoteo! (LOL!)

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  2. BUBBA,
    That's the nicest hate message I've ever received!

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  3. Wowzers, this one is so true, it freaks me out! So many great lines: "silent protest of your solitude", "the snowstorm screen of time", the reptilian eyes (loved that one!!)....this poem is so good - and so true - that it hurts! Ouch!

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  4. "And you feign indifference in your involuntary celibacy,
    telling yourself that ass isn't all it's cracked up to be--
    though in truth it's just like food--no big deal until you have to go without."

    Do you have to point that out? I mean really, I am doing a pretty good job of convincing myself of that and you have to poke holes in my little fantasy land. Thanks Tim.

    And reminders that we will all die and become forgotten & obscure. It might be true, but geez. (I do love how you craft these deep pieces full of grit though-primo my friend)

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  5. SHERRY,
    It hurts so good?

    KKRIGE,
    I'm sorry, my dear, to be the one to provide such a harsh dose of reality. LOL (Anything I can do to help, let me know!)

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  6. If no-one remembers us, were we really here?

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  7. grave stone
    this lonely dog visits
    daybreak

    ... there will always be.

    _m

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  8. It wouldn't be so bad to grow old if we were as blissfully unaware of aging as we were when children. :)

    I loved this, Tim. It's real and with that lightness you add that makes even the ugly truth bearable...

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  9. nice..our biggest foe, taking ourselves too seriously ;)

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  10. Cool write! It's amazing how society has changed

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  11. TALON,
    If we can derive poetry from the ugly truth, then there is beauty even in that!

    LORRAINE,
    Exactly. I'm thinking of a line from a song by Prince: Life is just a party/and parties weren't meant to last!

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  12. Bravo! What a fabulous poem. That's life ... good and bad ... we all have our time, then not. The culture changes. Sigh! An accurate picture. The touches of humor and irony and priceless.

    Have to tell you though, I for one and having a ball at this time - being almost defunct - no one pays attention to me: hey, there's freedom in that. Recognize I'm in a minority.

    Very well done. Had to read it twice for the pure pleasure if its rythme and reasoning.

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  13. This line caught me...>>> And what have you contributed to the dialogue, my boy,
    and will any of it survive the fuzzy TV snowstorm screen of time?
    >>>

    and kept me reading.

    Thank you.

    Thank you.

    Thank you.

    My Potluck poem.

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  14. This was the best poem I've read so far through poetry potluck this week by far. Amazing the way you flowed so easily from detail to detail yet the poem retained such a coherent form. Agree about reading it twice; most enjoyable.

    crb.

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  15. wow ! what a rendering . I could even picture you throwing this at me and me flinching. I agree with Caribbean Fool above--this is gotta be the best thing in this potluck so far and i am glad i got a chance to read this.

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  16. This is precisely why I have switched to a high-resolution, digital camera. But all kidding aside, this is a fantastic piece. I especially enjoy the stanza about television newscasters. Really fantastic. Thank you!

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  17. original poison poem haha! good one! my potluck.. http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2010/06/04/metamorphosis/

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  18. This is seriously good! You've caught the mood of peoples' wasted lives so well and the self centred importance of the media. I love looking at those old photos and wondering what happened to each of the people...
    This poem deserves a wider audience.

    http://jessicasjapes.wordpress.com/2011/02/21/home/

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  19. The mirrors we avoid and then sneak,
    quietly and quickly to have a peek,
    The things unused or neglected,
    leave them off the list to be selected,
    and all the time spent in the sun,
    time doesn't march anymore, it's on the run!

    The poem is too good to be true or vice versa! I enjoyed it immensely.

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  20. Well, we have the internet, where nothing goes away.

    Besides, your poetry is beautiful. That is something.

    Now I have 'Play that funky music, white boy' in my head.

    Sigh.

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  21. you never fail to entertain ..

    brilliant writing,
    Thanks for caring and sharing.
    A++
    :)

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  22. AbThomas, JamiDedes,(I'm having a ball too!)Julie, (you're welcome, you're welcome, you're welcome)Caribbean Fool, Butterflies of Time, (here, catch! LOL)AzFree, (a hundred years from now, the high resolution should help) Fiveloaf, Jessica, Dan (I hope you're also publishing these great poems you leave as comments for me!) Thingy, (let's get your mind off that song--how about "Like A Virgin" by Madonna...try and get THAT out of your head now!)Jingle (Thank you, dear one!)

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  23. You never cease to amaze me with your creativity and salt of the earth poems.

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  24. It's marvellous, I just love the first line! Help, I'm but a fading image...take me with you! Great stuff, read slowly. And excellent picture.

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  25. Fantastic writing!

    "Still, you'd like to be remembered--and don't know why--"

    yeah, and simultaneously aware that remembered isn't what really matters..it is the interactions in the here and now that really count...they are all that exist.

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  26. This straight up rocks the truth. And do I know it! Loved the cadence and the way you capture those fleeting thoughts along with fleeting images. Really excellent. Gay

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  27. that was amazing...quite the romp...the things we go through to be remembered...i would rather it be for the gentle touches i leave....

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  28. Great and greatly done
    Speechless

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  29. Utterly beautiful, well planned out and well executed I think I've read it before but didn't comment. It was well worth a second visit x

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  30. Thanks: Teresa, Kolembo, Laura X, (What time is it? It's always NOW...my watch stopped this morning, so all I need to do is remember that, and I won't need a new one!)Gay,(love ya!) Brian, (nice thought)Dulce,
    (Is duality
    reality
    or just a malady
    of the brain?)
    G-Man, (you look young for your age!)
    Repressedsoul: Don't believe I published this one before...were you at one of my poetry readings?

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  31. Hmmm I always love the softness of sepia - guess it takes some of the sting of reality away

    this is a fine piece - riveting for those of us in the older sector

    Thanks for the One Shot

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  32. You caught me with this one--I'm used to your more tongue in cheek efforts. This was still full of wry humor but also serious as a coronary. I did definitely relate to this line "...Now, generally, you avoid mirrors, though sometimes/you seek them out with a morbid curiosity..." same with cameras, you'll find. Great stuff.

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  33. This is sad, true, and funny, too. Nicely done :)

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  34. I really enjoyed this poem. So relevant to us all. We all want to be remembered, but like it's said we are remembered by our actions, not what we say. Great contribution to One Shot. ~ Corbie Sinclair

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  35. Maaan...your words just stung me!! But I daresay.. I needed that sting!!
    Quite a reminder about the passage of time/life, Kodjo...
    Too good!!

    " and you and I
    are no closer to our first hello and our last goodbye." -- this really hit me! I just drifted into another world..wondering how soon will it be before... ??? brr.. the thought is quite unnerving!!

    What a fantastic poem this is!! Kudos!

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  36. And did I just write "Kodjo"!??!?! Stupid me!! Sorry about that, Tim... I just got carried away with the poem... it was just too darned good and thought provoking!

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  37. Wow...these are stop-and-make-you-think words. So happy to have found you through oneshot :)

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  38. i think all of us long to leave some kind of footprints - some kind of good footprints and we're afraid of just "fading" away like morning haze..and soon be forgotten...excellent poem timoteo

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  39. Nice to see:Moondust, Hedgewitch,(hey, I recently saw photos of a bunch of stars without their makeup--they're as plain looking as can be--it's all smoke and mirrors!)Lori, Corbie, Kavita, (don't worry--I've been called worse!)Diana Lee, (welcome!)Claudia (I think the easiest way to leave a footprint is to just step in some wet cement!)

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  40. well
    the first stanza says it all
    doesn't it (great opening strophe)

    the poem builds beautifully
    & leads to an excellent end

    guess we should just live
    in the moment
    cos that's all we have
    maybe

    good read

    later
    brother

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  41. Interesting truthful observation of life many may know it some fair better and some for the worst, and many swing back and forth in the gap somewhere in between.
    Where are you my friend? No need to answer... the poet the philosopher who is the chanticleer and often misunderstand, avoids the chaotic soup of humanity & forges his own path in reality.
    Joanny

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  42. ESTEBAN,
    Thanks so much for stopping by!

    JOANNY,
    Avoiding the chaotic soup of humanity and forging my own path in reality...I like that! I like it so much, that if I start another blog, I'd like to use that as the title... if you wouldn't mind!

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  43. Greetings, Happy Firday! Blessings…

    Friendship Awards, Enjoy!
    Thanks for the support, You Rock!
    xxx

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