Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2, Reprise

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Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2, Reprise

Post by Steve Plonk » July 27th, 2011, 5:06 pm

Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2

Page one, of three pages, in this topic...

by Steve Plonk » January 1st, 2011, 8:11 pm

“Hippie from Mississippi”

By Steve Plonk

Well I’m proud to be a hippie from Mississippi
A state where even freaks can have a ball,
We don’t go out and get a buzz cut
Like the okies from Muskogee do...

We have other things to do on Sunday
“Cause we had to work the whole week through,
Every day is a day we worship
“Cause we try to emulate the Lord
In every little thing we do.

Well, I’m proud to be a hippie from Mississippi
Even though hardly anyone’s a Democrat there
We like to go and vote our preference
We don’t care if the public hates our hair

We try to treat everyone nicely
Even though others might not do the same,
One of these days, we say, a black man will get elected,
All the squares and grits think we’re insane.

But we’re proud to grow our beard & be called weird
We know one day many more folks will do the same
It’s too bad we’re not respected & that we’re rejected,
But there are other places that don’t care how you appear.

One of these days it won’t matter about the length of one’s hair
Nor the color of ones skin or where one is from—they won’t care—
All folks will care about is if one makes a contribution to the nation
So I’m hopeful that one day I’ll be free from tribulation

So all you okies from Muskogee can stop beating your chests
All you Neanderthals someday will let us have some rest
Because we hippies are as American as you
So get over our hair and let us move on through...


Lyrics, Circa Sept. 1970, in response to “Okie from Muskogee”Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by saw » January 2nd, 2011, 11:02 am

Merle Haggard's song is awfully narrow-minded thereby inviting responses

I remember The Youngbloods did a to parody to balance things, and this poem calls his assertions to task as well......apparently time has mellowed him, and he no longer feels that way.....it's kinds funny he holds up white lightning as a core value given that it is illegal, but hey.....he spoke his mind,
and you spoke yours......god bless america.....good night irene.......ha hanothing matters, but the quality
of the affection....in the end,
that carves the trace in the mind.

ezra poundsaw

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 2nd, 2011, 11:48 am

Thanks, Saw... My response lyrics were sitting in a notebook for many years and,
after seeing the Kennedy Awards program, I decided to show the lyrics the light of day. Yep, Haggard has changed his tune in 40 years. He was sitting alongside Paul McCartney, etc. getting an award. But, we remember him way back when...

Yep, "Okie from Muskogee" made me write a response song different from the Youngbloods but I think still poignant considering the views expressed. People
used to throw rocks at hippies and try to run them off the road. The country is
still divided along ideological lines but in a different way from 1970.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 4th, 2011, 5:10 pm

“Sacred to the Memory of: Tuli Kupferberg”

By Steve Plonk

From a two story outhouse,
I sing Kyrie eleison,,,
My Lord, my home’s a
Pig wallow,
Barn swallows nest
In my hair,
Yet I sing of memories of
Tuli, my mentor of the muse &
The amuse—
***
My beard has many mats—
When I sleep on my futon,
My head’s full of bats,
Yet I care, yet I cherish
The memory of Tuli—
I am distressed, Kyrie eleison,
May the Great Lord bless &
Keep Tuli’s soul—
***
Though my spirit is broken,
From running these streets,
I sing for a blessing for Tuli—
He paid the toll—
I know I’ve left some stones unturned,
My memory yearns for your joyful noise—
***
My friend & mentor
Tuli Kupferberg—
May G-d’s great gates
Open once again to admit you—
This I pray, my Kyrie eleison,
From my lovable pigs stye...
Rains coming down in sheets...

August & December 2010Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 8th, 2011, 5:38 pm

Author's Note:
Hello out there, anyone else recall that Tuli Kupferberg was a founder of the
rock & roll band, "The Fugs"? Tuli was also a regular on "You Tube" with
his astute and zany commentary... Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 16th, 2011, 6:39 pm

Also see, for education edification "The Nothing Song" by the Fugs on
the You Tube Video forum... Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by creativesoul » January 16th, 2011, 10:12 pm

i rode horses in picayune miss with a crew back in 70 s - one of the guys had a rolled tabacco cigarette, and well, out of now where came the police- ripped his cig to shreds, and we rode away-
cant say i went back there- but i had a baby in atlanta, Ga-- more about this later- sweet piece, brings back fond memories of being a hippie in cali- and hawaii etcreason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---creativesoul

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 17th, 2011, 2:35 pm

Creativesoul, thanks for your comments. Many years have passed since I
first conceived of and wrote the "Hippie from Mississippi" poem. Hope you
also checked out the "Nothing Song" by The Fugs. If it wasn't for Ed Sanders, &
Tuli Kupferberg of "The Fugs" , Bob Dylan & the Band, the Beatles, the Byrds,
Arlo Guthrie, Pete Seeger & just a few more, like James Brown, I wouldn't have
thought of writing anything. Folk Rock got into my soul...along with Rhythm & Blues & jazz. I soaked up influences like a sponge in my early teens & young
adulthood. I was also greatly influenced by Martin Luther King, Jr. So, may
God bless you and have a great MLK Day. Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Hollweg » January 17th, 2011, 4:01 pm

Nobody who lived through the '50s thought the '60s could've existed. So there's always hope.

--Tuli KupferbergHollweg

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 19th, 2011, 4:48 pm

Thanks for that Tuli quote, Hollweg. Here's another one:

"When patterns are broken, new worlds can emerge..." Tuli KupferbergSteve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 30th, 2011, 6:37 pm

TRIP TRAP
By Steve Plonk

Trip trap
I'm flipping my flap,
I'm rapping my rap,
I'm running my tongue around
I gotta get the speile said
Before folks all leave town...

They say that you are responsible
For everything you do or say
But I wasn't responsible for the
Day I was born
Or the first haircut I was shorn...

I wasn't responsible for my Grandpa
Dying way back in World War One
I wasn't responsible for the color of my
Skin or eyes or the hair I can grow on my chin
I wasn't responsible for my genetic makeup
Or the family I was born within...

I wasn't responsible for the blizzard we had
Nor when the sun rose to 110
So is it nature or nurture my fairweather friends?
May we prevent every accident we ever were in?
What is it that makes sense of living
When we know we are interdepend?

How many angels may dance on a pin?
How does our speech affect enemies or friends?
Do we have all the answers to make amends?
Do we have strong enough will to stop all wars?
Are we responsible for the air we breathe?
Are we responsible for when we are coming and
When we do leave?
What is it we really believe?
What is responsibility when the lava explodes or
The earthquake strikes, or when the cars crash
Or we fall off our bikes? Many things are beyond
Our control and many things are not to our likes,
What good is responsibility when the tsunami hits?
God has the ultimate response, my friends...
So I keep my ears out for the message which God sends...
Keep an ear to the rail and you may hear the train coming,
But don't keep the ear to the rail too long or you'll get run down,
So keep your ears on when the train comes to town.
Don't pick up a snake that you know is a copperhead,
Because it is certain that it might bite and you might be dead...
God has the ultimate response, my friends...
So I also keep my ears out for the message God sends...
Ziggyboogiedoo!

Also see, "Rant and Rage" forum...this is a reprise, with one small change.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by creativesoul » January 30th, 2011, 6:46 pm

love this---reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---creativesoul

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » January 31st, 2011, 3:42 pm

Glad the poem-rant pleased you. I just had to get jiggy with it. Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » February 6th, 2011, 6:23 pm

WINTER HOLLOW

By Steve Plonk

Twas stormy and the howling wind
Did whistle and rattle tree branches
In the winter hollow--
All cloudy was the winter sky &
The icy stream gurgled loudly,
Blankness of the sky screamed
Out for help in the icy caves...

Winter hollow held its form of death
In barren twigs of trees
Squeaking on the window panes,
Horrid crusty snow & ice cover tree branches,
Frozen like the heat on the lips
Of a dying star,
Tree branches await the spring thaw...

Circa Feb. 1968, Revised Feb. 2011Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » February 12th, 2011, 1:09 am

Kind folks and gentle people, that was the winter of our country's discontent.
The whole world was watching...Seems to be repeating in other parts of the
world, too. I froze right to the bone that winter of 1968 and I got the flu and
the army is a bad outfit to have the flu in...During the influenza epidemic of 1968... Wasn't as bad as 1918, but it was a pretty bad epidemic...
Last edited by Steve Plonk on April 12th, 2011, 1:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2, Reprise

Post by Steve Plonk » July 27th, 2011, 5:15 pm

-Page 2- of same thread

by creativesoul » Sat Feb 12, 2011 1:32 am

i also equate cold and deathreason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---creativesoul

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Feb 12, 2011 3:40 pm

Thanks for your comment, Creativesoul. "Winter Hollow" was written in a low point in my life. It is one of the bleakest poems I've ever written. I tried to communicate the cold and the fear of death. The last line had a little bit of hope in it...Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Feb 19, 2011 1:20 pm

PAGINATION

By Steve Plonk

Filling up a page

Brings me happiness

I am simply pleased

To get into cheap whimsy

Of filling up a page/

Gets my ya-yas down

So I am again

Cleaned up to start anew/

Filling up a page

Is like filling up

A gas tank in a car/

Sometimes one does it

Over & over in spite

Of a low mileage car...

I have a low mileage mind &

I am searching for the right

Phrase to qualify it—

The perfect fuel

The bulls-eye word...

Takes me somewhere new.


Author’s note: Circa 1978,

Slightly revised poem and new title Feb. 2011.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Feb 19, 2011 8:40 pm

ONE BRIGHT NIGHT WITH SISTER MOON

By Steve Plonk


Once at a gathering
In the woods at half past eight,
We held hands in a clearing
We did not hesitate...
We sang hymns to God's creation
We sang hymns to the sun & moon
The evening turned to dawning
It was over much to soon
Wilding time was what it was
Like days of the reformation
All our prayers became like spells
To help with night’s sanguination—
For in everything we said
Blood rushed through our head...

“Hello, Sister Moon,” we would sing
“Won’t you shine down now on me
You aren’t as bright as Brother Sun,
But you help us all to see...”
The owls would hoot along
Whippoorwills would whistle, too,
The rabbits would thump
Near the old well pump and
Up the cranes would fly, calling so strong,
It seemed that even the raccoons
Were joining in our song...

We ate our mushroom & onion soup
We ate our pumpernickel bread,
We ate our "poor man’s caviar”,
The medicine was in our head,
We sang our chanting hymns to God,
To the oak tree grove and the Moon
The night flew like a blue jay
Dawn approached like a shining spoon—

We wrapped up all our prayer blankets,
Our altar & our robes,
Our tents and our utensils & tomes &
Headed back toward homes,
Beating our old shaman drums,
Praising great Brother Sun,
Because another day had begun.
But we’ll always remember the lyrics
We’ll always remember the tune &
That one bright night with Sister Moon...

Author's Note: The above poetry/lyric came to me in a dream. The above
poem was also a featured item in Litkicks.com's Action Poetry, Feb. 23, 2011.
Last edited by Steve Plonk on Sun Mar 20, 2011 6:45 pm, edited 2 times in total. Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Feb 26, 2011 12:32 am

MARKING TIME

By Steve Plonk

Marking time again
Marking time again...
Set up like a window dummy &
Marking time again...
The display changes in the window
But the old department store
Dummy stays the same...
But has on different clothing &
Trim to become more proper & prim...

Marking time again...
Time is your enemy sometimes
Time is your depravation
But the past is your storeroom
With old memory integration
Stacked up like magazines
Volumes in the gloom
Your set repeating with different scenes
Time is your enemy so soon...
Marking time with the clothes of now...

Winter 1979-80, Revised Feb. 2011Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sun Feb 27, 2011 1:41 pm

WARM HARBOR BLUES (Lyric)

By Steve Plonk

Warm Harbor Blues
Got off the boat in San Diego,
Motored up to San Francisco,
Stepped out onto
North Beach scene,
Lived out life with Cyndy
In a pipedream...

Woe de doe doe...
My Hudson was so polished & new,
Warm Harbor Blues/
All my friends have grandchildren now,
I'm a widower and all alone,
Very few left who remember our youth.
Warm Harbor Blues...

The winter of time
Chills my bones
Warm Harbor Blues/
Here I am in Motown,
Snow has fallen on the ground...
Where is Cyndy now?
Wish I could catch a train to San Francisco,
Wonder where is Cyndy now?
Warm Harbor Blues...

Circa Winter 1979-80, Revised slightly, Feb. 2011.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Mar 05, 2011 3:17 pm

DON’T CALL IT THE SCHOOL OF FOOLS

By Steve Plonk

I believe in the “golden rule”
I heard I’m part of the so-called school of fools
Why am I believing in the golden rule?
Because I learned it in Sunday school...

I’m not saying it to be uncouth
But it seems that the world has learned
To live by “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”
But I continue to believe that karma is earned
I believe it is better to tell power the truth

So I learned the golden rule and I learned it well
It’s saved me from plenty of trouble & hell
I keep my own counsel and I try to shut it
When my life is down the tubes, seems like shit,
I really give authority the truth to tell
I learned the golden rule and I learned it well...

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”
It’s a simple rule and it’s helped out my life
I think it’s helped me consult with friends and my wife
I keep it close to my mind and my heart
Guess I’m just a fool right from the start
But I’d rather be kind than be mean
I really think it helps with the modern scene...

Why am I believing in the golden rule?
Because I learned it in Sunday school/
Don’t call it the School of Fools
What I learned in church was really real
God is alive in my heart with zeal
I can’t deny or pollute my soul
Need to own up before I get old.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sun Mar 20, 2011 6:38 pm

PENNY HAIKU FROM HEAVEN (A Dream)

By Steve Plonk

Angels will sing penny haiku for all of you,
Which soon will chase away winter’s
Storm rusty clouds out of the desert,
Spring rains will wet all the dusty cinders...
As rainy days are apt to do...

After God’s bringing rain to the thirsty young
Mouths of the creatures of mother earth,
Rains will fill the swamps again with frogs,
Rains will bring salamanders back to the bogs...

Fogs will hug the shores of filled lakes once again,
Green will come winging with bird’s beaks in the wind,
Trees will burst their newborn buds with leaves,
Seeds will burst forth from the leftover sheaves...

Earth will blossom the desert into pastures & shrubs
Mother bears & lions will emerge from caves with their cubs...
The lambs will bleat unafraid as the Shepherd brings safety,
Singing along with the angels, as the Spirit of heaven,
Number of angels, I believe, it’ll be seven....

Resurrection lyrics of renewed agape love,
Spirit of heaven’s spring descends like a dove...
Coming down from on high,
Coming down from above...
Echoing their song, swinging down low,
To the shepherds & sheep far below...


Created, March 18, 2011, Also, submitted to Litkicks.com’s Action Poetry, March 19, 2011, published late on same day... was featured item.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Apr 09, 2011 10:50 pm

EARTHBOUND ASTRONAUT

By Steve Plonk

I am a man of suffering
A man of suffering
Have seen my body dying
My own...&
Left a sea of crystal hives upon this moon
Vastness from whence we all came hence
Smiling seen in His shadow...
Am I a retired earthbound Conrad &/or Bean?
***
Only the cosmos knows
What has been seen...
The deathly cold,
The silent rocks
The unpolluted foreign sky of stars...
***
Many eves of nights of ebony pitched chasms—
Notes of ethereal anti-matter spots,
When are they bringing home the astronauts?...
Astral-body light-ships wandering...
The gases of Jupiter hold pieces of my missles,
Mars of my flesh,
Which lit upon Saturn & like a starving horde,
Made my prison in the stars:
Alpha Centauri, Sirius, Betelgeuse, Antares, Proximi Centauri,
Castor, Pollux, super-novas & quasars—
Temponauts being lost/
Many useless names appear...
Some real, some imagined “inner space”—
All for naught?!
***
I thought, when coming home, an earthbound astronaut,
That things may be recognized by me in a similar frame or guise...
As when I left for oceans of space, light, & time,
Whistling Terra’s old tunes—been seen in the shadow
Of many moons—Light-soldier colonist be damned—
Priest of light, not might, prophet of the Elves of Terra,
Needed for a new-cloned mutant woman...
***
Part 2

But, use me well, for I have seen, & am wise, & while shingles of
Amino acid piddle about & when we could be cognizant of
What it is to be loud & blatant, our receivers up too high
Chorus humming, grisly white robots bumming quatros for our coffee/
Humbled by the disjointed visions...
***
Heard a new silent protest deepening from those who push the buttons,
Clean the broom sweepers & are poor & misunderstood, because, to them
You changed nothing...
Their good was bad, their right was wrong/ & besides:

A person’s insides is better than transistor batteries/
Metal-man robot machine private tinkling has a plastic brain for thinking/
One must be mad to feel this truth, how could people become uncouth &
Try to spare-part the human race—
***
I am the Earthbound Astronaut. I have no races to run/
We are within our solar circle sailing...
Orbiting near Mars—we looked around, we wrote things down,
We learned from what we found...we burned in the knowing—
Windows facing stars, contacted those from the inner & outer “milky way”...
Now the Andromeda galaxy blips is upon our fingertips,
But, losing ourselves & becoming snippy little elves...
I am the Earthbound Astronaut, I been around through space & time/
***
We lost our old garden, been reborn, but we need our garden restored &/or found...
I have been to see dreamscaped things which are being shown & in the name of
The Most High, & I offer up this poem into the sky—that we might try to grasp
The mystery of the “northern lights”, I sing this lullaby tonight...Selah.

August 1973, Revised slightly, April 2011.
Last edited by Steve Plonk on Wed Apr 13, 2011 11:38 am, edited 1 time in total. Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat Apr 09, 2011 10:54 pm

THE VICTORY OF THE WANDERER

By Steve Plonk

Bubbling wine glasses, a glittering star partakes of the liquid light undying—
Like some victor of the day—the wanderer returns—
He laughs, the wanderer, the watcher, lingering, listening,
Leering & admiring, the wenches abounding,
Dancing, wrenching themselves around—
Ladies becoming hysterical and wincing in the presence of a star—
The wanderer laughs—the winking wizard of roust...
“When will we begin the joust?”/
***
“Rippling waters of speedboats charging
Across the finish line tape, enlarging bigger than the race he won/
The wanderer explores for what reason or purpose or beginning, or
Whatever, thrill seeking...Jumps out of planes, skydiving like a fool,
But would rather pack the chute...the man who packs the chute would
Rather jump out, but is nervously content with the precision of his folds”/
***
“Guitar army comes to change you
Wants to re-arrange you
Guitar’s a weapon with its bullets of
Words & musical sounding in “inner space”
May cause a pool of doubt
To surround you within & without”—
***
“It’s no propaganda, just the jive of now,
Flying for flying’s sake, not to break a speed record—
Walking on the ceiling, weightless, for art’s sake only—
To invigorate, to absorb experience & to enjoy”—
***
“Our guitar army will teach you how to survive:
No premonition...No superstition...
Just to survive the heat & cold of growing old—
Walking, Waking, Wondering, Whimpering, Wiggling,
Sneezing, Snorting, Snoozing, Sporting, Slobbering...
Moreover, we commence the voyage to the Jovian red-eye wilderness—
Reality of testing suits, the harness, the pack, the Capsule &
Endure to do what has never been done.”
***
Part 2--

He says to “prepare to be a pioneer of thought, explore and find out”/
Suddenly, in flight beyond the moon as we linger toward Mars...
I wait for myself to catch up with me as once I was/
I cringe with discovery & apprehension about what awaits unfolding
Like a crocus in spring of youth...
“Are there unseen faces? Will we be confounded, dumfounded,
Amazed, glazed like pottery in some fierce cold or heat?...”
***
“What of Mars dried seabeds of salt & lava, old streams of water or magma,
Seeping steam of water, howling winds, mad as battles, or magma
Seeping steam into nocturnal cavernous mysterious canyons...
We are hovering above all this?!”/
***

Suddenly, again, icy air behind my head lifts me up as Mars gravity fades away...
“Do we walk astral unknown or are we seen, cogs in a machine, or
Inside some colossal Being, whatever being may be”—
It’s a dreamscape while exploring inner screams/
***
“Behind eyelids of awe, before beads of lizards begin to crawl,
Is dawn of knowledge &/or frustration for lack of it...
In the presence of a comet-star, which is blinding,
Getting into what we are,” the Wanderer says as he
Returns to partake of a new fiesta of giving of himself.
Howdy, Earth people...

September 1973, Revised April, 2011.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Mon Apr 11, 2011 12:28 pm

Kind folks, read my archived poetic visions, written while being spaced out...Visions of wanderlust, of the future, & the promise of space explorations
is what these are about..."Earthbound Astronaut" & "The Victory of the Wanderer"...
They were written on my first anniversary of my cross-country trip
from coast to coast...when I met Dr. Hunter S. Thompson...
Ziggyboogiedoo Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sat May 14, 2011 4:19 pm

THINGS OF SPRING (LYRIC)
By Steve Plonk

Things of Spring--feel the comfort
Of a warm spring lawn
Smell of lilies, poppies, morning glory--

Serenading of returning birds,
Strumming of pupas coming out as kings--
Monarchs--the butterflies
That travel to each whistle stop--
Life comes alive when Spring rings
Its rosebuds,
Waves its newborn flags of leaves,

Things of Spring--feel the comfort
Of a warm spring lawn,
Smell of lilies, poppies, morning glory--

Everyone & everything is out again--
I can love trees outside
Glass windowpanes,
I can love wisteria which grows
On the wall once more--
Spring has come
Mother nature's happy story has returned--

Life comes alive when Spring rings
Its rosebuds,
Waves its newborn flags of leaves
Now I know that Spring has come
With blossoms & rainy days...

Circa May 1968, Revised May 2011.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Mon May 30, 2011 11:31 am

THE LIVING DAY
by Steve Plonk

If night is dying,
Then day is living--
Bless the living day--
Flowers spring up
With the light
Opening petals
Toward sunshine--
When night dies
Lazy pups & kittens squirm
Stretch awake...
This wretched drunk
Stirs awake by the tracks--
Countryside is reborn
From winter's night,
Aurora's eye flashes
With childhood wonders...
Lazy people's eyes focus on
Light in the living hour
Of spring's living day
For winter's night has been dying...Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Thu Jun 16, 2011 3:32 pm

"PTOMAINI RHYMES—A Macabre Satire"
By Steve Plonk

Ring around the posies
Pocket full of rosies,
Cinders, Cinders,
They all fell in the fire/
Listen while the wind chimes
Ring higher and higher...

Little Miss Puffet
Died on a tuffet
Eating her canned shards of whey,
Along came a spider,
Which sat down beside her,
Then ate her eyeball away/

Old King Shoal was a merry old soul
A merry old sire was he,
He was dead, ‘cause he bumped his head...
He bled out in his bed,
Now from Shoal’s body, his soul did flee...
Listen to me, while the wind chimes sing higher,
Like a swinging old used lyre...
"Fried green tomatoes" grilled on the fire/

Little Jack Porner
Sat in the corner,
Eating a pumpkin pie.
He stuck in his thumb
Had a cut on his thumb,
Got ptomaine poisoni...poisoned ptomaini....

Jack Spat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no whey
They were both dead ‘cause
They weren’t well fed
They got ptomaine poisonney/

One little, two little, three little ptomaines,
Four little, five little, six little ptomaines,
Seven little, eight little, nine little ptomaines,
Ten little, eleven little, twelve little...
All poisoned folks food--like heavy metal lead...
Listen to me, while the buzz saw sings higher,
To a ruminating bovine choir...

Here comes the coroner to announce you are dead,
Here comes autopsy, where they chop off your head...
Remember the hive, at “Slaughterhouse Five”?
Ptomainey rhymes, ptomainey rhymes,
Everybody’s gotten formula rhymes,
WO! Comin’ up with ptomainey Rhymes!!

Remember the beef you chew, used to make a bovine “moo”!
Make sure meat's not spoiled ‘fore you cook your stew!

Circa June 1967, Revised Spring 1980, Final revision, Spring 2011.Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Fri Jul 01, 2011 11:50 am

BROWN COWL
By Steve Plonk

Folks are more contrary,
Outside the monastery...
Howl now brown cowl,
We feel the e-lec-tri-city now,
Velocity has sprang up in our jowl,
Like from the Goliards in
The middle ages,
We find ourselves making
Brand new pages...
We catch the continuum
In the times & run run run
Till daddy-o takes the
PC awayyyyyyy...
We had more funnery
When we left the nunnery
Of staid and sterile
Straight & narrow--
Took the fast track
On the bullet train,
Hopped that hip-hop
Jet airplane,
Break danced our bad selves
Until it was all so good
Changed ourselves & our neighborhood--
Times need to catch up
So we need to sing for our sup,
Get on with it & solve the shell game,
Bring in the clothesline clothing from the rain...
To be more succinct,
With what is fragrant & what stinks--
Time for more progressive action, methinks...

Steve Plonk
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Joined: December 12th, 2009, 4:48 pm

Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2, Reprise

Post by Steve Plonk » July 27th, 2011, 5:25 pm

-Page 3, of same thread...

Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Fri Jul 01, 2011 1:27 pm

SARCASTIC RETURN
By Steve Plonk

A return to the days of yesteryear,
Where turgid poetry abounded,
From a-far & near,
Trying to make it very clear,
That we have from our homes
Embark & only return until
Way after the dark,
For it is firecracker display time,
Down in our sunny temperate clime...
Feeling so fly, this month of July...
***
In order to know what is it,
We must find a display to visit,
Like "Big Daddy's" or "Black Cat's",l
Where they sell firecrackers in
Huge barrel vats...
Find the crackers we need to stop,
Look carefully inside the store, not to drop...
We want no spontaneous "sand cracker" pop!Steve Plonk

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Re: Blasting Caps from the Vault, Part 2
by Steve Plonk » Sun Jul 10, 2011 12:27 pm

"Vaulting out of the Vault"
By Steve Plonk

To my readers everywhere
Who to this poem pull up a chair,
Who read me mostly on air,
I write for "the eternal you",
Yes all of you whom I can't see
I try to reach those who
Never write to me,

I hope that a few nuances
Will stick like downy feathers
To help you through the stormy weather
That rolls through our lives,
From time to time,
Whether we are in the tropics
Or in a temperate clime,
Let me help you to pass the time,

To be your muse or amuse,
To be the poems you choose,
To lighten up your day,
That is why I sent these
Poems your way...

"When life's troubles hand us a lemon,
We are making some cool lemonade"
Into the cool lake waters of the mind
We shall to attempt to wade...
To change life's rude,
To a wonderful mood...

Comments on this thread are closed.
Please see a duplicate/reprise of this thread
in my "Life in the Horse Lane" Column,
in the Columnists forum.

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