In the wild and worn world
of old poets and poems
few are born with inspiration,
yet none can live without it.
The hallucinogenics of modern users
and the holographic lives they live forget
Calamus burns with the light of poetry
within the realm of dreams.
Oh beautiful for days gone by for
everyone who reads these words.
Lost in a dream of Antigone’s screams
I am the forth head of Cerberus.
A sea creature from Odysseus’s nightmare
and a sacrificial pawn in recent world
war diplomacy.
Hallelujah in a horizontal skeleton
laying down in a field of poppies
in some Afghan mountain field of falling
bullets and madmen bombing themselves on
opium highs for heroine cartels.
Calamus crazy is better than all else
in the realm of dream and dope filled hazes.
Whitman new his way through the words of
wall flowers and working stiffs,or politicians
gasping rhetoric. He wouldn’t be fooled by
an actress in a Toyota commercial, smiling at him
after paying a billion dollar fine, mocked by a Mardi Gras
grinning mask in a car dealer’s show room.
Oh America, America go shed your light somewhere,
and do thy good with brotherhood from dream to
shining dream. I see alabaster chemtrailed skies
turning into a silver screen. Today is official Spring.
Hello mother nature it’s been a while
since I’ve seen you in anything but winter white.
Restrain yourself from rain and wind, tornados,
now or hurricanes for this first day of Spring.
Create another holographic reality of days of sun
and warmth and cloudless skies.
Hurray for the arrival of Spring
and the returning hero and heroine
assaulted by the crowds of starving salesmen
and homeless veterans warning them
the suicide rate is increasing.
Hey it’s the first day of Spring.
Everyone should feel happy and Gay for
the outing of all who need to be outed
in parades and stores and gas stations
and crossways and cross walks and on television.
It’s Spring so let us all sing,
Where have all the flowers gone?
Or where are the great So.African runner’s
left and right legs
and model girl friend
he shot to death,
or Mick Jagger’s 6ft 7inch suicidal
fashion designer girl friend
not paying him back his
multi million dollar loan.
It’s Spring and the world is wondering
about the 777 disappearing
or diving into the Indian Ocean.
We can not forget Russian President
Mr. Putin and John Kerry’s frightening
warning to him,that if he doesn’t stop
occupying the Ukraine John Kerry and Barack Obama
will put him over their knees and
spank him.
So Mr. Whitman I see your point, I see your wit,
I see the effect of Calamus. I understand the
strange unbelievable world of chaos and fools.
I prefer to sit back and enjoy this first day of Spring
as the temperature rises to 50 degrees and maybe the
sun will shine through the chemtrailed skies, and some green
comes through the brown ground,and maybe a robin will sing.
I hear one now calling to it’s mate
a cheerful yet shrill sound of warning
uncertain of Spring’s return and fearful of
winter’s leering grin. But today is Spring
and must be celebrated, so here I am ready for
a party, ready to sing a song of Spring, ready
to join with the robins’ song and praise the
the first day of Spring, and warmth and sun.
L.A. Steel
Published at 12:37PM E.S.T. exactly the start of Spring.
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