Wednesday Night Poetry and Whatnot Essay

Good evening all (especially to the hundreds who signed up today).

It is a cool night in the Philly suburbs. The lights are low and my eyes are tired, but I feel the need to post.

Down below, I will share some poetry, some youtube clips and the like (some my own, some of others).

Please share in the comments something of your own, something that makes you laugh, think, all the whatnot.

First up, one of my own…

Don’t listen to lying cowboys

we skipped stones over muddy waters
fishing for sunnies with stale white bread
while an evil Empire cast long shadows
over the world
with fear in the form of mushroom clouds
but, the skies were blue
over the muddy waters
of the lake
a turtle, a snapper,
breaks the surface
and quickly disappears
and our president
was a former cowboy
but only in the movies
and my bobber
cast trailing ripples
over the surface
nudged by a sunfish
nibbling on bread
and the specter of
nuclear war
cast trailing ripples
over a child’s mind
because the cowboy
Ron
told him
to be
afraid.

darrell gahm

and now, a video of mine, called “American Music”…

and here is one from Bukowski, quite possibly my favorite of his poems…

the strongest of the strange

  you wont see them often
for wherever the crowds are
they
are not.

  these odd ones, not
many
but from them
come
the few
good paintings
the few
good symphonies
the few
good books

and other
works.

  and from the
best of the
strange ones
perhaps
nothing.

  they are
their own
paintings
their own
books
their own
music
their own
work.

  sometimes i think
i see
them- say
a certain old
man
sitting on a
certain bench
in a certain
way

  or
a quick face
going the other
way
in a passing
automobile

  or
there’s a certain motion
of the hands
of a bag-boy or a bag-
girl
while packing
supermarket
groceries.

  sometimes
it is even somebody
you have been
living with
for some
time-
you will notice
a
lightning quick
glance
never seen
from them
before.

  sometimes
you will only note
their
existence
suddenly
in
vivid
recall
some months
some years
after they are
gone.

  i remember
such a
one-
he was about
20 years old
drunk at
10 a.m.
staring into
a cracked
new orleans
mirror

  face dreaming
against the
walls of
the world

  where
did i
go?

  -charles bukowski.

here is a pretty cool video someone made to a recording of Buke reading the above poem…

and finally,  a recent and relevant piece by Lawrence Ferlinghetti…

go with peace,
darrell