A Spurious Invention
2-25-2011
Ego, was free to explore the ether
To
Fro
Until respond [must!] from love, me or you? “Neither.”
All was needed was excuse for a breather
“God, can’t respire for it seems I am solely someone’s/another’s desire”
Walked out with stride confident, tunnel vision- not respondent
Counting biological component turns one into opponent’s proponent
Growth was always a guise
The altruist becomes selfish (darting eyes)
Hoping and groping for a movement forward
Until my craft loses its values and I am/become bored.
James P. McCabe
The Strangest
2-8-2011
I dream the strangest of things
Before I fall asleep I wonder,
“I really hope these dreams are fascinating,
That their perspective changes mine, we will
Grow together these dreams and I”
And that’s what happens (sometimes)
The strangest is when you check your phone
(you’rein sideof ad ream, sot hingsm akel ittles ense)
And you’re roommate wakes you with his presence
And you’ve no phone in your hand, no mug of coca-cola
No ice-cub trays to defy room temperatures or sublime lights
But you’ve such interesting eyes- closed as they are, they see
I’ve loved nearly all the dreams that take me unwilling
Into strange ‘scapes covered by kudzu, bordered by rivers
Tangled in emotions and arguments, frightened near to death
Being covered by the dreary skies, the pastures of sunflowers
Trapped in virtual worlds created by the powerful brain
Walking down dusty hallways, rooms hidden- but known by the eye.
No fantastic colors or extreme monsters apart from large creatures
Or vague expansion of knowledge, the dancing woman-fate in the window
Producing faux conversations with close friends and aquaintances
Wishing for clear teal skies with the wind blowing fierce and smiling
And happy happy happy but for the creeping silence and depression
(The pressure building on my brain) poured onto paper, bubbling
With enthusiasm as ?I? wake from a dream in which I am flying
And.I.Try.To.Remember.Every.Detail but I cannot recall some
Yet I write furiously or attempt to remember excitedly what my mind made
What my brain said, “Dream dear boy, dream until you are lost”
Well you almost won there, Mr. Conscience, with no conscious
As to my sanity, how it is constantly pressed for time and check-ups
Where the buildings have little time to defend themselves with robbers
And I upstairs with a skinny woman that needs to protect herself from the
Coming offenders, the killers running up the staircase screaming- yet silent
Until they knock on, knock down the door and I am waiting fiercely, biding fastidiously
For them to come up, to knock down the door so I can ravage them, I can tear
Their throats, and open their chests; that woman doesn’t need to die, she’s too scared
Well on lighter notes, a motorcycle fell in the river and the jungles are covered with wet mist
And I know their paths, laden as they are with traps and mines- they cannot touche me
I am an explosion, myself, of thoughts and clever plan to evade the clasps and clutches
Of hunters employed by my mind to evade and chase a spirit that doesn’t exist as it runs
Or the kind giant that leads me through the fields of dense crops whetted with the horizon
The sunset of memory that exists every evening outside home, outside senses (clever, clever)
Punctilious notes scribbled illegibly for the creative craven who desires freedom
Tantalizing tales without seductive tee-vee harpies, only the real women created inside [her]e
Rooms crowded with people yelling and talking loudly, silent on the rebound- -
The eyes that see, that know the layouts of every school I’ve ever been in, remembers well
Finds the strong and makes it weak, then powerful again in its eyes- but that’s a side story
And all I’ve left is the mind that makes, that forges a thousand stories and leaves me mute.
James P. McCabe
I Tried To Understand
2-5-2011
I tried to understand
The complexities of their:
Human hands,
Human friends
Molded clay revealed my:
Skin, its folds and stories told
How I grip’t tight, or let go
Emotions notched one by one
I tried to understand
The complexities of their
Arguments- fastidiously wondering:
How did they arrive to here, from then?
It came to me slowly (As things often do)
But with a finalization brought beckoning
By years, and years of bickering
(Of which I'm sure was worthwhile)
It did not strike me as hopeless;
Here! Here I was, alive and prosperous!
Yet, my mind struck itself a toll
Work, to work and success! (true of mine knoll?)
For society told me to be-
Endless and free (with a requere)
“Thou shalt not express you, your me.”
'Alright, to power I shall give flight!'
For surely those with all in their grasp
Have but little to move for orders dare ask,
“Would you, could sue a governed body of you?”
Well, I shan’t dare to impede on your branded steed.
Of all this, my true wish was to be:
Eternally humble, echo enough and not a lot more-
For my stipend was my youth galore
Wisdom I should gain from its starry shore.
Returning to earth, the universe struck my stem
“There are other beings existing out there,
I want to be with / get to know them"
Integrate knowledge and love- starting with 'to care'
James P. McCabe
Create(d)
2-2-2011
What was that noise-
It revolved in a twirl,
Twas satisfying to the ear
Escaped like a wounded soul*
I was groaning.
There was only silence
And the slow thought flow
Of a lover with hand in tow
“Come, come!”
I was beckoned with a kiss
Spun around a bob, sauntered
Towards the door, melting as I did
Two daemons were holding converse
A “O, don’t leave me.” and a “I am-
My own man, don’t have to speak nowhere.”
Reminded as I was of lulling speech, ran (with it)
Til my words all but cascaded
They sounded of dreams long past, sonorous
“I love you.” Returned with a smile and nod-
“You know I really do.” Alright, then what?
Well, let me tell you of a story of a young man-
Stop. Rethink risk and dream stores,
Remember advantage of exploration
Regardless of what the historians say, it happens.
It sounds like a saxaphone outside my window,
Reverberating the echoes of words spent quickly
Almost spilling off tongues meant for kissing, at first
O, and what tales could we spin- but we weren’t lying
“There was another, there IS another”, I thought solo:
“Well, what if she found out- (I bet she has)” then what?
“I do think of her sometimes (shh, naught for naughty!)”
“I dunno, if I do see her, I’ll just act and ask normal.” [sounds good]
Oh, let your hair down my fair starstruck mistress
The way it sweeps my growth entices me well
Such that a boom in my heart, with your hand placed over
Recounts a worthwhile activity- we were one for moments
And each one screamed silently for more, oh for more
As if not one of us was ready to ask for additional this,
Additional that. But it drove us - I almost lost heart -
Only to remember, “Oh wow, what a beautiful specimen!”
-
And then I kept going.
James P. McCabe
*”wounded soul” rather than “wounded prisoner”
