credo quia absurdum

so my last poem ended in a very negative place, so i need to bring balance back to my universe. this is an old poem that perhaps answers the question "is humanity worth saving?" from jalopy dreams of a mothership... credo quia absurdum

(the hoax)

so these scientists these crazy what’s wrong with you scientists

put an ancient vase on a record player, applied a laser

and some super science, digital scanners, noise filters and

crossed fingers

(f.m. – frequency modulation – funky magic)

set up wine glasses and crockpots with little cocktail weenies

and held the world’s greatest strangest séance

 

they made sculpture giggle

 

                imagine their surprise

six-thousand-year-old young girls laughing so loud they leave grooves

                not gods

not wizards, just girls, children of clay, born of flesh, translated to breath

expelled from happy lips and pressed back into clay on a potter’s wheel

i want to believe

because it’s so absurd

because i want to know laughter is eternal

             in the fossils and footprints of my ancestors

in the homemade toys i slingshot into the future

                i want to believe in that grace

and i want to dance with the shy blond girl

                in the white dress, in the frieze of life

                feet splashing

in a garden of green paint, laughter thick as plaster

            and spin her till her dress falls off

and i should rescue this princess bohkara

reclaim it from this cold thrift store

                too precious to leave on the floor

listen close and hear mothers teaching daughters eternal knots

this will be my blanket, and i will sleep and dream

                in the footprints of elephants

and i can stare hours and hours

                into vinny’s whirling stars, big wind fist

                punching the moon

my eyes go all rapid cycle dream-optic oscillation

all those brushstrokes screaming blueblueblueblueblueblue!

i want to live in a museum

                                                i want to lick all the art

i want to eat their hearts

                convinced they’re made of cinnamon rolls and raspberry jelly

                porkchops and cheesecake

                and the psychic breathmint of eucharist

and i want someone to drink this poem, taste my fever

                my tire fire, my words wide open leaping into

                                                                frequency modulation

 

imagine

space and time never forgetting a single note of music, every echo

                                                                                                endless

ocean in a seashell

 

highway in a hubcap

 

                giggling girls

                                in a cookie jar

                                                                imagine

somewhere in a distant future, deep in the long-gone of mankind

                travelers from a more flexible universe

bubble-headed paleoacousticologists on safari

                some crazy what’s wrong with you alien race

                finding our remains

finding this world a dead relic, a lazarus bowl, soul jar bursting with ghosts

point a record player needle at this mess of human milieu and discover

                the human voice:

 

rose is a rose is a rose is a rose

 

and e pluribus unum

 

and today is a good day to die

and i’ll have a blue, blue-blue-blue-blue christmas

and mr watson come here

and this puke stinks like beer

and the poets lie too much

 

and frog leaps – sound of – splashing

and i want to fuck you like an animal

 

and a pocket full of poems, ashes, ashes, we all write poems

(and remember, this is just a hoax)

 

and everything was beautiful

 

nothing hurt 

2011

"the frieze of life" by edvard munch

"princess bohkara" photo by unknown

"starry night" by vincent van gogh 

posted for d'verse