Sunday, May 8, 2011


Outside my window
the raven calls
to follow him again
as in that kingdom far away
in a time when hoods
of muslin saved our sight
from the the diamond in his eye
that blazed like a thousand suns

And wasn't it you
who told me that love
is like a banana
you've got to peel
away the facade

And wasn't it you I saw
seething inside your skin
at the Metropolitan Opera
grunting like a pig
when the fat lady sang
hooting from the balcony
like a Portuguese pimp
a break with tradition to be sure
running amuck till they pinned you down
inside the ladies room
tempest in a pisspot

And isn't that
Miz Chauncey Lee Lamour
sitting right over there
sucking on her
mint julep
trading tales
of the good ol' days
when men were men
and women were horses
was the prelude to a kiss
her entourage
of the rouged and the wrinkled
hanging on her every word
well aware that
most men in America
in this year of the locust
in this decade of the plague
would rather be sniffing
through the long abandoned
ruins of an old haunt
than to give up the ghost
to your baby-faced whore

And now my old friend the raven
has moved to Baltimore
where he works as a squeegie man
on certain odd numbered holidays
and plays the guitar
with Eric Clapton
and sometimes Charlie Byrd
while all the sweet young things chant

But well you know
that the whole world's a stage
that you're going through
just to get to someplace else
and though they stomp and shout
for another encore
quoth the raven: AINT NO MORE !

It was a lively time
says Miz Chauncey Lee Lamour
well aware that most men in America
take their pants off one leg at a time
all grist for a story of some kind
and you know dahling
you really should write it


  1. Damn! I feel like I just traveled with that one to all kinds of places and times.

  2. beautiful - calls to mind ginsburg or kerouac. love it - no other words. exactly the kind of poetry i want to be reading. please, keep it up! it's so refreshing to see work this amazing!

  3. I found this very humorous but at the same time elegantly written. Well done!

  4. this is a really cool write! loved it!

  5. Oh my God! I SO love this poem, every brilliant word. The "rouged and wrinkled" and the "most men in America" stanza, and the raven that now is a squeegee man who plays Clapton. This is simply brilliant writing!

  6. relaxed and well fine tuned piece.
    thanks for sharing..


  7. Like theberrygirl said, this calls to mind the beat poets. Just brilliant. I love the voice.

  8. I've read it in the voice of Ginsberg. Brilliant stuff.

    (I really don't sound like Ginsberg. Well, sometimes I do)

  9. I especially liked the segment where you talk about the " decade of the plague" and the penultimate segment where you talk about the world as a stage. Also the segment where you describe the Met (not Renee Fleming's Met to be sure). But I confess to having difficulty in understanding poetry. I'd enjoy listening to people who better understand the language of poetry discuss what you 've written. (Asking the poet what he means seems insulting; he's poured his soul into the poem; he!s already expressed what he wants to express.)

  10. To those who have mentioned the beat poets--yes, I liked Ginsberg, Kerouac, William Burroughs, (doped up though he was) and some of the others. It's hard to say how much "influence" they may have had--subconsciously, perhaps.

    Some poems well up primarily from the subconscious, and this was one of them. It's almost like they were dictated, then the poet has to step back and say WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS? just like everyone else!

  11. and do you know what i love about YOUR poems timoteo...? they are as far from cliche as the moon is from the sun and they surprise me with their honest and raw rock!

  12. Yes, the ones that well up like that, that you just write down as fast you can, are some sort of gift, I think. Later, as you know them better, you start to get it, but I always liked this quote from Carl Sandburg on the subject, " Hell, I've written some poems I don't even understand." This is a fine piece, Timoteo--a meal on wings not wheels.

  13. clap clap clap....this is fricken the character of the old dried up woman and the raven that became a squeegie guy in baltimore (nice nod to poe)...used to live in b'more, might have met him...

  14. I always like your style Tim. it slaps you around a little, but paints it plain. Thumbs up.

  15. I know the beats and this sounds like you...not really them. Clearly this sprang from your imagination and ran itself through the America you know, the poems you love, and if the Raven led you there, he was only acting as Virgil did for Dante in THE DIVINE COMEDY. Well done and truly enjoyable. Thanks, Gay

  16. I love how you keep it so interesting and humorous all while packing some punches here and there, too. I don't know how you do it, but you do it well!

  17. HI! I liked all but the second strophe. Beat, rhythm, audacity, surprise, all attributes of the raven--flight and personality. I prefer the name crow, however. Crow. No romanticism. Just is what it is. Like the poem. :)

  18. So good to see you, my friends--and welcome to newcomers: THEBERRYGIRL, MINDLOVEMISERY, VICTORIA, and GOAT. I'm coming to check you out.

  19. well certain things i knew....but didn't know about the pants part! enlightening....i mean the whole poem :)

    my time on earth seems already cut way not very regular,


  20. DEVIKA,
    Have you seen any men do it otherwise? ;)


  21. hahahaha! well , seriously speaking that has not been a subject of research so far :)


  22. i wouldn't want to set out finding that....but, frankly Tim, the poem with that ending brought a zest to it...and that made me comment on it :)


  23. DEVIKA,
    Actually, you can take your pants off both legs at a time if you are sitting down, but if you are standing up--well, go ahead and try it! LOL