hey, do you remember words?

[judih]

trying to think
do you remember words?
do you remember the time we spoke?
when there was no silence in the present scene
when past and future mindcrashed in syllable
urbling of ancient aztec tongue forged glyph tych
syncopating with
backbeat, ultra violet scales
so clearly right
sounds typed their own velocity
do you remember syntax, wayback then
i ask you, now, cause i scarcely recall
so i'm calling you,
do you remember words?

[revolutionrabbit]

like Jimi singin purple haze with a piece of gum in his cheek
i listened to the words but i heard the violet fire in waves of
Poet in New York or Dick Dale firing that Misirlou thrang
i listened to the words and i heard the sound in the words
like holy rolling r's riding the ghost riders on the Mary sky
i heard the cry of the gypsy moth heard the rollin stones
in the heavens and elevens rumbling around in those rocks
words way out crashing over tongue coming from the jag heart
of the concrete jungle from the midnight Monk moans in the dark
those soundy words flickerin in sea light and moon mean green
like woken Tiki gods standing on the volcano lip shooting from
the hip talk they choose down down in the lava ash streets
those lose vowels why down in thy bowels of the hoho land
the words the words they say when the king of the trash cans
beats on the lids as cave doors fling open and Howl bowl spill
growls in the belly of the TV baby and i don't mean maybe pill
i lost and found those wise foolish words in a drunken speech
wanted to teach the bible and dictionary to make like cool
and give birth to tarantulas and junky shrunken heads hangin
in great poems that haven't been invented yet, but the dang
words hang out down at the dead Disneyland church and lurch
with the phosphorescent Hodad saints and the drastic plastic
Elvis singing blue suede shoes to the garbage can mountain
and the huge pink flamingos, hilly billy words like you never seen em
bebop fo hoppin like Twain frogs down yellow brick roads to tomorrow
but these burnin hunk funk words tomorrow never comes only Nadine
with her belt undone in the back of a hammerhead shark on wheels of desire

[the mingo]

Yeah I do - but that was before the beavers moved in and changed the semi-soggy wetland into a real lake creating an environment where everything else came and went & attracted creatures that had not been seen around here for a century & a half at least. You can see the lake they made out of almost nothing from the satellites for God's sake. Yeah I remember words. I remember shaking hands with a man who wanted to sell me a truck that the salt had gotten to & eaten big holes in the frame. I remember her who was my heart's desire in the days when my spirit & my body sang in harmony over the whole thing. I remember looking up the word "erection" and thinking "Well, that doesn't cover everything about the confusions of love or its ability to swallow realities and replace all of that with its own visions." Little did I know about forever in the days when words were tribal. When language knew itself as sex at a remove and was not ashamed. The beavers returned to reclaim it all just as everyone had concluded we would never see then again and now even the snakes roll over on their backs and clap their hands. I remember the words about breathing, about the wind in the grass.

[judih]

vaguely hear myself speaking
something in blur and cross-fire
not a debate, not a rally
neither sign nor picket,
nor demonstration, nor taking over a building
in a hypnotic state, i could tell you what was said
just like this, before an espresso,
my fingers barely converse
something's gone astray
my left ventricle's on vacation
all frontal lobe at large
my neuro-transmitters are refusing to play
so, no, not i
can't remember words or when we used them
but i'm hoping for recussitation
a little nudge, a clue, a sudden flood of uses
for which i'll find my voice
hope, i say, guess that's a word
a disappearing act in letters

[revolutionrabbit]

ashtray moon
put your butt words out
with the lip stick on the love word
crush that red tipped cherry out
on the moon's Egypt face

tobacco is sacred to Mars
mars rhymes with cars, words ride
around in mars cars with licking flames
painted on the side in perfect detail
but cigarette metaphor is sacred to none
words smoke nervous on pages of stain
nicotine and caffeine go straight to the
brain, words take the back door

sly devils sulking around with verbs
looking for an opening, a way to undress
your notions, with potions of omnipotence
with history stabbed in the back, you too?
on a stage with masks back lit for effect

lend me your dark stranger ears
so that l might pour sweet words into them
words that frollic around like nymphs
naked and sacred as drafts of forgetfulness
words like pure Nepenthe happening in light
from the Egypt moon through the word trees

sending creepy hands of lumenessence
wrapping around the branches like snakes
in the glow from the skullduggery words
little Egypt is doing the moon dance tonight

blue suede shoes drink liquor from old mason jar
thy ere stepped on once to much by Shakespeare

[Arcadia]

right foot on earth
left foot in circle
(crosses)
two steps to the left
two steps to the right
easter saturation flowers
(dancing)
indigo-yellow-black-lonelier city
wild again in its borders
concentration changes
(rain rains)
mosquitos do their job

[stilltrucking]

a wordy sea engulfs me I breathe them in and they choke me.

I spew them out and they sink to the floor and never reach your ear

they scroll across this screen and tumble to the floor

what is the point of words

when they lose their meaning?

I have read that we are the word become flesh

maybe that is why we are forever strangers

[stilltrucking]

not a debate

I am over the hill trailing words behind me

going towards wordless

you probably hear me better than I hear myself

I speak to my self

I speak to that of god in everyone

god

now thereisawordhowshouldispellitshouldicapitalizeitorwriteitlikethisG-d?

where are the language police when I need them

the ministry of love I suppose.

[judih]

language cops bound me
tied me up
gagged me
hypnosis keeps me silent

[stilltrucking]

I got no problems here in Amerika
we have tea parties here
zombie rugged individualists
celebrating their independent opinions
they march to a different drummer
ditto that Rush

we don't have to think
we don't need no stinking words
we listen to talk radio night and day
we got words running through our brains
so don't tax the rich
it is not logical
tax the poor
fuck um
we got ours

yeah words
speak softly
don't wake the dead

sign that loyalty oath
why wouldn't you want to?
ain't you patriotic?
don't you love the father land, the mother land, the holy land?

got a Google with my name on it.

words
god bless our patriotic words

words
give you wings
they set you free
they are chains that enslave you
I should choose my words more carefully

just a go
don't mean nothing
don't even sound like nothing


it ain't easy being green
or Kafka

[stilltrucking]

I got life time

of meaningless words

Quemoy and Matsu

Red China

and paper tigers

And godless communism

Land of the free

the wretched of the earth

I got words like nine inch nails

on a cross of iron

bomb words

and rocket words busting over all

strontium 90

and remember the Alamo

Today I remember

tomorrow I will never forget

words over all



words are are flowers sprouting from guns

peace

the magic word

worth a hundred bucks

hand delivered by groucho's duck

Duck

here comes another word

[revolutionrabbit]

a poet i met once whom i won't mention his name
but he speaks with a accent, something, he said;

everything is a big cosmic duck
the line in a poem he was reading
the secret of a poet's tuck and roll
i remember it well, or as well
as i could, considering it was
at a poetry reading in a jr. college

i remember the after reading party
a poet friend of mine that i went
to the party with met his future
there, a woman that took care
of him the rest of his days

i thought about those words
over the many years, "cosmic duck"
and i always saw a cartoon duck
but i saw the word duck in another twist
of it, i saw another meaning of the word

the cosmos is ducking
everything is ducking
some tossed stone
at its blessed head

i was ducking
the life i was never handed
but they were trying to hand it to
me, i meant to duck it, to chuck
it, to shuck and jive it, but to
see it as cosmic, that the whole
cosmos was shirking its responsibility
which reminds me of reading Henry Miller
the way he ducks and jumps back up fuck
the way he says duck or cunt or muck

as luck would have it, we all duck what
we don't know, we give it fancy names
unconscious is a better word then God
but when a poet writes his cosmic duck
it's more like some president ducking
a certain very cosmic aim tossed shoe

the blackened poem written on its sole

[judih]

hey yeah, we soft are steel
still here
yielding the blows of whatever wanders
taking it on the chin
but duckin
quackin about the almost hit
yeah, sure, scared aren't we
it coulda flattened us
but comin up for air
we tear into our minds
and rip out some words
praisin the fact we still exist
my 'i' ducks beneath the blankets
bed's too low to hide me
hopin for a miracle
another brilliant poet
to sing what i mean

[jimboloco]

words are weapons
knives stabbing
jaws flapping
mind's wrinkling
brows' frownings
despairing's warnings
clues to behold in our vanishing store of concepts as we become empty
waiting to be struck once more
with the blues
until we become used to red
hats and shoes
and lips

[judih]

talk of torture
forms of human cruelty
talk of lipstick, rules of beauty
worldspeak speaks
adspeak preys
the starvin and helpless succumb
lookin for a crumb of belonging
pushin us over an edge
if we let it
what can i say?
life is a comic balloon
with erasable satire.