All Laughter Some Bitter by Raymond Farr Someone just like us Is taking our place In the march on Absolutes Their leaden sentiment kills Their heart is a poem & a place Beyond what is named What is felt is all wrong We must justify our version We must walk without hesitating Nothing is measured We must always persuade them To listen ** We are leaving You alone We no longer feel Any empathy For the tumult of the 20th Century We are beginning A new plot Chock full Of new twists Better than All our previous attempts At gore & redemption The last thing Anyone needs Is a vibration That’s only Mostly human ** A man named Sherman Married a woman named Sarah He opened a dry cleaning business He died the next day He was one who looked out He was buried in winter The very next day his dog ate a raven He had such a year He felt he could breathe He died of a blood clot stuck in his brain He could’ve been saved had he not eaten fat Which he ate every day His poems were like persons All laughter some bitter ** Forward march, shouts the One Story Prefab. & up the driveway we storm! The instinct of a skunk, says Noah, is a fierce ideology. At the corner of Fleet St & a man with amnesia for instance, Noah says, a man who explodes is also a skunk that explodes. But lacking understanding a deep sadness derides him. In the song of a cricket is the soul of a suicide, says Noah—this is the myth of the broken down dreamer. His deep-seated angst is a line dancing bear. His history of the suffering of the foolish computer is a startling biography. But no match for a human’s. A haggard man, he handles the wheel.
Posted on: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 00:37:03 +0000
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