Thursday, October 17, 2013

I Got Rhythm

image borrowed from bing

I Got Rhythm

“Life is like dancing, learning those new steps,--even
though some may get angry when the rhythm changes.”
--Miguel Angel Ruiz

Time, man, time,
that gnarly old bitch, 
that angry old bastard;

keep it, beat it,
bend it over the kitchen table
& sodomize the slut.

Hey, you never run out of it;
it is artesian, infinite, perpetually in motion, 
regenerative, & perhaps it is a lie, 
an illusion.

What a pisser that now, finally, as I pay myself
to spend time doing those things I enjoy,
still its laughter is chilling--with its big butt
occupying the catbird perch, sending flocks
of raven ravages to peck at my body,
my mind, my sight, my dreams;

just dig the deviance as those gut-wrenching
rituals of my morning preparation for the
100,000 Slave Days are now fully replaced
by the golden silver-maned rituals of Leisure;

regardless, there is some part of me that fully 
understands, yes,  I can still stride like a tiger, 
but there are dark forces out there who continue 
to stalk,
to hunt me, 
and one day, 
one possibly pleasant day 
in the dead of winter, they will slay me, 
strip off my flesh, then flatten what’s left of it 
into somebody’s living room throw rug, 
my stuffed head intact, jaws open,
teeth bared, given glass eyes & then forced
to be intimate with a vacuum cleaner--

so before that fateful day, I will hoard bundles
of goose quills & Mason jars of my own blood,
& late at night, safely locked up in my sanctuary,
listening to the predators milling around outside,
I will dip those quills deeply into the red juice
of my essence, & write in my leather-bound 
notebooks those unspeakable things, 

the bloody poetics
of love, lost and regained,
of mortality, lost & ready to refresh,
of death, sucking face with skulls,
of poisonous frogs devouring spiders,
of monkeys with white whiskers 
still dancing at the end of their chains,
still holding out the rusty cup,
still begging & praying & planning,
still defiant, making arthritic fists,
still in lesson & learning,
still ready to extend kindness where needed,

remaining a pugilistic lover 
with a punch like a mule’s kick, 
satiating my radiant spirit with the iridescence
& consistency necessary for the continuing
sustenance of the True Self;

oh yeah, dudes, my skin bags are already packed
with my wisdom, karmic debt, & several itineraries,
because it is clear to me that the dreaded dirt nap,
or the fierce flames of cremation 
are not the end game, they are
just temporary way stations 
dotted along the continuing
saga of soul journey.

Glenn Buttkus

October 2013

Posted over on dVerse Poets FFA

Would you like to hear the author read this Beat Poem to you?


annotating60 said...

Glenn, truly a tour de force of imagery and beat down lang. Really wonderful to read out loud. When
I get the time I will come back and listen to you. >KB

Björn said...

Great Beat -- quite a journey you too us on here. love the trip--- or should I say I dig it.

Aida Karanxha Bode said...

Time... - keep your friends close and your enemies closer ;)
Great write.

Brian Miller said...

goose quills and mason jars in my blood...ha...sodomize time over the kitch took off like a the language you took us there...and i love the way you did....

Claudia said...

heck...tight images..sodomize the slut... the ravens pecking at your body...well captured grit and emotion glenn..i knew you would do well with this one..
p.s. mine was jean-michel basquiat.. the painter...just reading a book about him..

Adamsmurphy Simon said...

Like the title says "i got rhythym" the whole of this is a reflection of this rhythym! Brilliant word....

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Brilliant words Glenn, bloody brilliant!

Your opener
'Time, man, time,
that gnarly old bitch,
that angry old bastard;

keep it, beat it,
bend it over the kitchen table
& sodomize the slut.'
made me smile and I knew the rest would be as good.

(Hope your brother is okay.)

Anna :o]

Laurie Kolp said...

So intense... I can easily see this poem being performed.

Mary said...

You've captured so much of that period with your poem. Dense with imagery and strong language that makes the reader take note.

Nico said...

I loved this--the skin bags are packed, ready to go, but there is still so much to experience, to write about. I like the "love, lost and regained"--like Milton's Paradise. Excellent work!

Anna Chamberlain said...

My absolute favorite of yours.

Chris Lawrence said...

Glenn you ripped me out of my timeframe and slugged me with this i read i listened thank you

ramblingsfromamum said...

Your reading of this made it all the more powerful Glenn. Very Cool- though at times a little frightening.

Mystic_Mom said...

Well if anyone could shoot poetic lines in a grapeshot pattern and make it a beat poem it would be you! Wow.