Tuesday, March 8, 2022

The Day the Music Died



image from pinterest.com

The Day the Music Died


“Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye,

singin’ ‘this will be the day I die’”--Don McClean.


Here I lie,

far from spry,

just the aged aged man

stroking my paper-thin

crepe-skin,

muscles carrying a load

of pain down the long road.


I can’t get up. 

plagued with pressure blisters,

and i resent staying down,

my face blinking

from a smile to a frown,

like a tired neon beer sign.


There is a covey of owls

calling my name,

so it seems there will be

no more sunrises for me.


But stuck in my cortex

like gum on your sole,

I hear another refrain:


You cannot move beyond the veil

until you solve the “Four Riddles”


Who am I?

I have appeared

in so many guises,

what was my favorite role?

Perhaps it was just

being an Actor.


Why am I here?

Did I ever identify or 

embrace a purpose? 

                  Poet?

                  Clown?

                  Trickster,

                   Lover,

                   Narcissist?

                     Asshole? 

                     Teacher,

                     Dreamer

                     Friend?

                     Son,

                     Brother,

                     Husband?


Do I have regrets?

Of course, my divers regrets

come in battalions,

          in angry swarms,

          in convoys,

but even so, I know

my joys mantle any negativity,

as my vulnerable pride

stands naked in the square.


What comes next?

After a brief dirt nap,

I will chill in a way station,

adjusting my spirit,

before perhaps going

on a guided stroll

toward the light,

before boarding a bullet train,

with seven stops

in different Heavens,

one in Bardo,

and one in Valhalla.


I have never been a singer, but right now

I feel like singing a dirge, a death song,

just some kind of a strange wild song

never heard before, singing

in a stentorian silent voice

without moving my lips.


It is time for the universe

to make room for one more

beautiful molecule 

in a comet’s tail



Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at dx'Verse Poet's Pub


I chose The Aged Aged Man, Four Riddles, and A Strange Wild Wind.


 

            

                

7 comments:

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This one deserves a standing ovation! There is so much emotion and depth here! I am especially moved by this particular bit; "I have never been a singer but right now I feel like singing a dirge." Thank you so much for writing to the prompt, Glenn 💝💝

robkistner said...

This was metaphysically wonderful, full of things that got my zen buzz goin’ my friend. I think I am getting off for a bit in Xanadu to stretch my chakras — maybe chase down ONJ for a little mind/body Tête-à-tête.

forestbather said...

Searing, intimate, really a cerse one can relate to....stunning stuff Glenn...like a tired neon beer sign.....what a line, at a line..

Lucy said...

Glenn, this is truly remarkable. It took my breath away and my heart dropped as well in certain parts when I can feel so much in this poem. It is entwined with the strangeness and familiarity only intimacy can provide in different measures of pain and love. Absolutely incredible, I don't know what else I can say to delineate how stunned I feel after reading this. The part where you listed the roles you play throughout life, it made me wonder my own and how the space around us is vitalized to an ongoing story, with a role we play(ed) in different lives we cross.

I also found these lines to be so heart-wrenching and evocative:

"There is a covey of owls

calling my name,

so it seems there will be

no more sunrises for me."


Mesmerizing.

brudberg said...

Oh Glenn I hope this is not your last poem... but if it would be, it truly paints the image of an ager mand coming to the end of the road... so many good questions, with even more answers.

JadeLi said...

Glenn thank you for sharing what's in you at this moment. My friend you are an ongoing source of wonder and inspiration to me. I can see you there in the tail of the comet right now.

ben Alexander said...

Glenn, this may be the most real most authentic most sincere most true poem I've read in a while.

-David [ben Alexander]