The Problems of Green
The problems of green have their own colors:
But they all together only cost five dollars: like the stripes
On the Mexican flag:
And Alma making up her own excuses for whatever she does or
Doesn’t do:
And the roads to and away from her are being used,
But her children are doing good:
And I am in my own house in my own graveyard inebriate and
Scarred:
And maybe she will read this, and maybe she will go down
River and find more beautiful boys and read them,
Her brown skin getting goose bumped over her brown and
Perfect skin;
She is the only female I ever think about or try to smell:
And I come to her in the fruit market and then drive away, as my
Life recesses, grows frantic from its lacking amusements,
Or doesn’t exist at all:
And the green planes frolic in the green clouds;
And the hungry green foxes leap for the out of reach grapes,
Vermillion in their over abundance and in their virginal aptitudes,
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Who's To Say
Cars pull in beside tombs and who should
Get out but the silhouettes of movie stars,
And soccer girls from high school,
And the night is so heady with their atmosphere that
It sways as if being tugged like a table cloth,
Like the sea by the moon:
And even the souls of the dying radiate like the flagella
Of maypoles,
And the water near the shore is so shallow that it brings
All together such wildlife in rapacious harmony;
And Amanda has been to Africa,
But I have seen the corpulent tortoise under the bus,
Tugging out the engine of orchids like a child who is
Not bashful,
And even though I leapt away like a little girl over the
Heads of the disinterested alligators,
Who’s to say now that I don’t care, or that I wont once
Again be beautiful,
Or that my mother isn’t weeping over the walky-talky
Because I am bivouacked so far up I diadem
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Virtues of Believing
Foxes with pretty smiles competing for badges:
While the final battle looms nearer- as death has its way
Over the pretty chariots and the purple wedding
Processions,
As I proposition my heart for her, and the maggots turn into
Flies, smiling so many ways in their eyes:
As my parents’ home is repossessed by the bank:
As the mountain is repossessed by the sea- and it all flies away,
As the strata grows deeper and more mystifying:
While upon the birthday cake I watched Alma blow her wishes:
And for a moment they all must have seemed to come true
Until the dreamer arose
Accepting the inevitable absence of belief: the dead were dead
And un colorful, and the moon had arisen but was a thief:
And the light it was giving to the holocaust of languishing sailors
Was sending them the wrong way,
And shipwrecking the righteous upon the petulance of reef:
The baseball players were harpies, and Jason never found the fleece:
And the virtues of believing were all beyond belief.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Altogether Too Beautiful
It doesn't take so very long to surrender
Yesterdays echoes the very tit teaming at the very gates
Of another echinopsis of Disney World—
While then, all of the boys are already dissolved
And making a Peabody out of our very own imaginations:
Here is the very strange swill that they are left to
Suspect without the nights alone or the admirations of
Anywhere;
It is a very beautiful journey across a void where the
Voluptuous ships seldom often have to correct themselves,
And that is why that out of anywhere I have to end of here:
Even if it is strange, enveloped in the graduation of-
Your young night—it doesn't always have to end up
That way—a million volumes of echoes mean the same
Thing—that the baseball team or the football team
Has won, eventually—and you are so busy,
Enveloping yourself into the echoes that fall so far
Beyond my fingertips, that the other world also all of
A sudden awakens and spontaneously
Becomes altogether too beautiful to be explained.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Only A Nameless Genera;
Oh, there are so many many casualties when
We can only talk about
Giants and football, and even now none of any of this
Will survive:
While I and her maybe survived for a month or two:
It was always what I was good for, and then to falter again
Like a really fabulous plane die,
Like a superhero out of sorts, and like the triple crown horse
Braking down again before super time:
And I have cleaned up again and talked to myself before
The broken yards:
And children are playing football and going inside again
Feeling happy about themselves
Down the donkey strips of dirt roads; and even while I suppose
This is beautiful,
Like the failing end of Christmas, none of this eventually
Will survive;
It is pretty in its bloom and it does its time- Alma,
While you make love in your room, and the world spits out
Its jubilee and turns around again,
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Only A Nameless General
Oh, there are so many many casualties when
We can only talk about
Giants and football, and even now none of any of this
Will survive:
While I and her maybe survived for a month or two:
It was always what I was good for, and then to falter again
Like a really fabulous plane die,
Like a superhero out of sorts, and like the triple crown horse
Braking down again before super time:
And I have cleaned up again and talked to myself before
The broken yards:
And children are playing football and going inside again
Feeling happy about themselves
Down the donkey strips of dirt roads; and even while I suppose
This is beautiful,
Like the failing end of Christmas, none of this eventually
Will survive;
It is pretty in its bloom and it does its time- Alma,
While you make love in your room, and the world spits out
Its jubilee and turns around again,
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Gravedancers Union
They’re modifying you in your sleep somehow;
While you sleep they’re milling around
And studying, rubbing their legs together making
The eerie chirping sounds;
They’re shedding old shells for you,
They’re coming unwound….
They’re modifying you in your sleep somehow
They’re passing you around
They can’t figure out what to do with you,
How to handle what they’ve found
They can’t figure out what….
They’re modifying you in your sleep somehow
They’ve removed the top layer of your fleshy gown,
But they cock their heads like curious dogs,
Because they still don’t know what they’ve found….
They’re modifying you in your sleep somehow,
They’re digging you a home in the ground,
They’re digging your hole in the ground,
But they’re still not quite sure what they’ve found….
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
From The Ballrooms
Awakened into the orbit where they are
Without voices—somewhere shouting mutedly
To the remaining coyotes who have no dinner dates:
The circus and the fireworks tents
Are taken down and someone else writes a better
Novel and dreams of running away—
Ogled by truckers in the shopping malls of their
Heirlooms—as the Indians sleep downhill from
The flea markets of their gas stations—
And their dreams have no stanzas—maybe it is
Because they fought too long, and that they couldn't
Understand any of their numbers:
When they saw the goldfish in the wishing wells of
Their shopping malls, they just pissed on them—
And did not wait for the rain to leave to step outside:
They became too drunkardly for their girlfriends
Who left them for boys who could almost always be
Defined by their occupations—firefighters and werewolves,
As the lights fell away from the cities at the edge of
The world that no one cared about—far away from
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Songs of Dead Rivers
I lounge inside the songs of dead rivers
Where better women smile at me naked atop
The tufts greener than all Christmas trees;
But oh, how these lands are wicked, even
If calmed: The king is smiling even while
Possessed, while the traffic is heady and conductive.
I dress out for PE, but don’t work out:
I make laps around the basketball courts and take
Notes, while the Jewish students collect on the
Fiascos which they better perceive, which
They have been working towards, never mindful
Of even the soccer moms’ leggy tresses,
Their dun ring fingers and extroverted scents.
Now in the cacophony of Catholic churches the
Play strums: She is wearing the red dress, smoky and
Ethereal. From Canada, and a thief crawls through her
Window, and her eyes are for him and glowing
Something mythical. Like a fire in a horn up on stage,
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Which Flower Is This
Which flower is this? They don’t have penny Candy
Anymore- They have plenty of dollar stores
With dollar candy, which used to be penny candy:
They aren’t accepting applications; they’ve got a stack
Of them so high,
The skyscrapers cause falls of shadows in the heart of
A Midwestern city,
But not enough time: I write this because I brag I
Gave a hobo all my pennies today,
Two fifty cent pieces I stole from home:
They were both worth fifty cents;
He can buy a little beer. Look at the scars on
This side of my face, mirror- Now look away;
And I haven’t been to visit your grave, I’m sorry;
I’m too depressed to get out the door- Its too long a drive
Now that you’re my neighbor, honey-
Those silent green neighborhoods they don’t make anymore.
Now its all cemeteries:
Like Viking Kings in their houses, what great dogs
And chattel rubbed together it makes for
[...] Read more
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!