An old poem which I'm trying to improve...

[WordyOne]

This is an old poem which I have reworked... who knows what I was on (or off) when I wrote it! 8(
Am going through my old stuff and trying to improve it.
Who else does this? Or do you prefer the 'one shot' approach to writing?
Untitled
Begin to suspect that all this transient
is just warm-up, is the work of
some idiot with a blunt needle,
haphazard stitch-up. And sometimes
when we're jagged we could slice thru
to the new floor, the next roof.
As Ginsberg Mad Yak himself said, "The call
of Time rent out of foot and wing
an instant in the universe." Then
there should be a gliding on Icarus wings,
skywards thru chlorine blues, and all that
gap overhead between the liquid and the noun.
The type of kiss I have in mind is free and
birdlike, will not check itself, will not
be forced to withdraw. A deeply-graved Greek
said Time and Space were hungry, and kept
glued with lurve. Here moves the idea with
unsteady beat behind it: shuffling, but
definite beat. Stretch out and see thy
effect: with breath, with bread, with
blood. And I figure that we have been dumped
violated raped by truth, yet this, as I shape
to kiss, is our only tangible word. Watch me
stoop, down low, kiss the Earth. Not like
Pope John-Paul's peck, cold dry counterfeit
for the crowds: no this is a corridor where
everything shuts, fills with surrender:
I go in with tongue, exchange saliva for dust.
ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR A TITLE OR OTHER IMPROVEMENTS WOULD BE APPRECIATED!
[ 20 January 2003: Message edited by: WordyOne ]
[ 20 January 2003: Message edited by: WordyOne ]

 

[gabbachris]

add some swear words here and there.

 

[RareForm]

^yea, cause that's helpful.

 

[Toltecsuperhero]

i would suggest "only tangible word" as a title and i like this a lot, great imagery and excellent ginsberg reference

 

[(Wordy)]

My God, that's a blast from the past! (Yes, WordyOne was a previous incarnation)

Thanks for the comments.

I did revisit this one back in '05, and cut it down to this:

One Kiss

Begin to suspect that all this transient is just warm-up, is
someone with a blunt needle, haphazard stitch-up. And
sometimes when we're jagged we could slice through to the new
floor, the next roof. As Ginsberg Mad Yak himself said, "The call
of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe."

The kind of kiss I have in mind is unadulterated, will not check
itself, will not be forced to withdraw. A deep-graved Greek said
Time and Space were kept hungry glued by love. Here shuffles the
idea with unsteady beat behind it, but definite beat.

Figure that we have been flung dumped pinned in Truth, and this,
I kiss, is our only tangible word. I stoop so low, kiss the Earth, but
not like John-Paul's cold and dry for the crowds, I go in with
tongue, exchange saliva and dust.