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Soul Ink Poetry Cartel
POME EMPORIUM

Liberation in Poetry

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WHAZZHAPPENIN
POME EMPORIUM
POME EMPORIUM PART 2
Pomes from the Darkness
Oldies - AM 1993
The No Name Tavern
TOP FIVES
Q and A with Terribly Interesting Wisconsinites
Highly Twisted Artistic Opinions
Ooohh... Pretty Pictures
SOAPBOX
Meet Mr. Onion-head
For the Love of God Write to Us!
The Dungeon
Read This Or Else!
PHARMACY

Andromeda Galaxy




exit


how do i seperate myself from myself?
i am here, doing the same things
i have always done, i exist for some reason...
still a question -
looming.
she is here; aching, longing,
struggling to exist, trapped.

she used to sit quietly and watch -
her motion felt only in conscience,
a whisper,
an undone intention.

she slowly, sweetly stirs now,
nudging, cajoling - how long?
how long before she writhes
and rises?

how long before the stillness,
this torture, spurns more revolt?
how long before
i do not exist, but she?


ddr
9FEB01




hellbent


if ever you find me
in the morning
hacking and bent over
with that hungover, gagging,
phlegm-choking smoked-too-much-
last-night cough,
if ever you find me
awake
but just laying
with aching sponge-like aspect,
know that for every up
there is a down
and these signs mean
i had a heck
of a good time
last night,
a mess of a drunk-good
time
time
time
and again
up at night
and down all morning.


GJK
26NOV96




left


the blinker pronounced a left turn
and gone in a heartbeat
moving away
taillight punctuating night and life
sleep, yes, and dream child
brown eyes sad, but hopeful
heart strong, but daily draining
a left turn
he left her
she only ever wanted
it to be right.


ddr
13APR99




two ____________________________ deux


in all the world _______________ dans tous le monde
there is none other ____________ il n'y a pas une autre
that smiles like you. __________ qui sourit comme toi.

none other who _________________ il n'y a pas une qui
brings a smile _________________ apporte une sourit
to my face, ____________________ a ma visage
none other _____________________ pas une qui
that makes my life sacred. _____ rend la vie sacre.

in all the world _______________ dans tous le monde
my world is only you. __________ mon monde est toi.


GJK ____________________________ trans. ddr
9FEB01 _________________________ 9FEB01




Autumn Dreams


I.

Fall's a-comin' like a maple leaf on speed.
Sun's makin' herself scarce
like she's afraid o' me.
The winds smells of Halloween and men
killing deer like cowards then drinking beer.
Football becomes god and wives
don't care.
Electric guitar players pick up their acoustics
and jam.
Black-haired men sing of city streets
and neon lights, merchant marine
castaways wander into Frisco unseen.
They go to feel the ghosts of
Kerouac and the gang.
Harmonicas come alive under chapped lips
and thoughts of Dylan.
Acoustic thunder and lightning
like a madman drummer.
Sweat.
Wet shoulders and muscles strained
and brains unchained dream
of road trips
and peace.


II.

Fall is a hippie in a brown dress
dancing her way to a cold grave.
Bare feet want for socks,
dollar bills flow
and leave piles burn
an anthem of incense to the sky.
Smiles lose their charm,
melancholy red barns are emptied of hay.
The endless song of seasons goes on with a vengeance -
breaking waves over Big Sur drives the
sand insane -
highways crumble to the surf
melting away, paving the ocean floor
where free beats feed.
Coltrane 'n' Monk is what
I'm talkin' 'bout...
Ambre tones ringing through autumn's cologne -
Music goes on... music goes on...
autumn-stripped trees know spring is far away
and they shiver and wonder.
Autumn goes on
'til all the corn is gone.
No more BLT's.
No more watermelon.
No more jaunts to the swimmin' hole,
sandals thrown in the basement will stay there
for six long months.


III.

Autumn wreaks of acorns and squash
and corn stalks get plowed under black earth
becoming next spring's fertilizer.
Muses still live in clouds taking care to appear
in the dreams of prophets and seers,
poets and painters and playwrights.
I wonder... where is Lucille? B.B.?
Guess they've flown off with the leaves
leavin' me to cry on the frost-stained grass
that is my bed.

GJK
29AUG97




aura


sitting in an old familiar place
with an itch under my skin
waiting for an old friend to show-
the plan was well-laid
but laid a little late
and now
I sit
thinking with a sinking feeling
I will not see him this time around-
the times are too few,
I must get back soon!

the aura of this place is seeping
into me like a drug
I can't shake-
I recall the years spent here
and know now that it can be
much more-
I can live fuller now
than ever before
and the alluring magic
of this town
is leaving me feeling strange
about returning home
to a place
that doesn't live up to the name.

GJK
1AUG00
Madison, WI




SPLIT


I AM SPLIT IN TWO
I AM TOO
DIFFUSE
I RAGE I CALM
I THUNDER AND STORM
I AM MANTRA
EASYGOING.
I AM SPLIT.
SPILLING INTO EACH OTHER
ARE TWO MELTING HALVES
OF A CONSCIOUSNESS
NOT YET FULLY FORMED
I CALM I RAGE
I TURN ENDLESS PAGES
I READ THINGS WITH TWO MINDS
I AM SPLIT.
I AM TWO.
WHO THE HELL
DO I LISTEN TO
ONE'S LESSON IS ANOTHER'S FARCE
THE FEARSOME CONFLICTS BOILS OVER
I AM SPLIT I AM TWO
I AM TOO
DIFFUSE.


GJK
4JAN01




casual


august afternoon.
hot as a bitch.
hopped on over to my
old friend's house
and ended up
getting lit.

casual acquisition
of that old
friendly stoned feeling.
casual recognition
of the situation.
casual capitulation
to the temptation
of the bowl
sweetly packed
and alluring.

ascending heart-mind
ascending heat-body
retreating clean soul.

soul not in it,
heart sure is.
it loves this escape...
loves this gleaming expanse.

body calling for action,
motion,
but head says
it's too damn hot.

body then rings
like the sound
of a drive
and a smoke
and a coffeeshop.

where now does the wave take me?
to what shining shore?
i feel the tide
it is ebbing
and soon my beach
will be bare...

soon i will return to the place
that to leave i did dare.


GJK
29AUG00
















daydream


ambition squirms
like a worm in my head -
not getting anywhere,
only getting dead.
the staleness of home
sends my eyes wandering
to the road
that leads to endless towns
and horizons tinted by
different tones
of color, sound, and sand.
bound by circumstance
i seethe
with thoughts of
breaking free.

ambition twists
and lifts dissatisfaction
into specific purpose -
pen in hand i wander on
searching for a quicker pace,
a meaningful place
where i can send down roots
and produce fruit.

to this day
i've done nothing but scatter seeds
and then watch the viscious wind
sweep and scatter them to oblivion;
i need to see some fruit
ripen on the vine
of my life.


GJK
29JUL00




whips and things


the old man screams about
whips and chains
shackles arrows
and thumbscrews.

he knows he's screwed
knows he'll lose
the grave always wins
but he rages on anyway
with his tantrum of complaint.

scars on his back
he put 'em there
burned palms
burned memory
burning ache to live
forever
he says life is hell
but he sure likes it here.


GJK
9FEB01




maus is missing


man maus is missing
i mostly miss maus but
i also miss maus' music
it meanders into my life
like maus mostly modestly does..

man maus where you be
you be missin'
you be a modicum of chaos i need
muthaf***er where you be
my miscalculations as to your whereabouts
are moderately upsetting man maus
meander in today..
melt into this place
mostly i want to say hi
i miss you maus man maus
where you be? ..

maybe muddled in marijuana
maybe mystified in maelstrom
man maus
come trip again
come trip again
with me.


GJK
21FEB01




lilipution complication
time space size hate
surrender upward
swiggle down the nigerian horde.
swivver in the swagger of a stripper's hip.
strangle the step of cryo-fate
that sent you into micro-land
TV land man my brain is melting
lilipution complication
the mesa of dilapidation that is my skull
slithers into cracks of hair
hides there
and screams for a frog-stump stirrup.


GJK
21FEB01




are bottles bubbles ?. containing crude cynicism ..
drowning deluge difficult dilution ( ever exit else
bottled bubble are. )


GJK
21FEB01





"You can show me your home -
not the place where you live
but the place where you belong."

- Toad the Wet Sprocket