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this group of poems has nothing to do with ecstasy or despair.  they describe the quotidiana of a life of  romanticism (not romance) and spirituality (not religion) if you are a woman and think you are a subject of one of these verses, you are.  i write for all the girls i've loved before......
(thanks, Willie)
((did i mention anything about my ego?))
and as we say in Herford:
QUATSCH
Quatsch m. nur sing.
1. balderdash n. 2. bullshit n. Slang 3. crap n. Slang (nonsense) 4. blah n. Colloquial 5. hooey n. Colloquial 6. jabberwocky n. 7. malarkey n. 8. poppycock n. 9. spoken garbage n. 10. spoken rubbish n. 11. Utter nonsense! expr. 12. baloney n. Slang 13. hogwash n. Colloquial (Augenwischerei◆ eyewash) 14. bunk n. Colloquial (nonsense) 15. nonsense n.

Before the end of 2011


I have given up
on wretchedness

It's been a year
or more
without complaint

I smile at morning
'nothing to complain about, thank you for everything'
I smile at sleep
'nothing to complain about, thank you for the dream'

and in between
i walk the city streets
stealing shadows from the buildings
or despair from the passing strangers
stealng light
from leafless trees
waiting to be reborn
stealing life
from the inner world
where everthing's always been fine

nothing to complain about
thank you for the words
January 2011

Octobers


all around the planet
Of all the months
Octobers seem to be the ones
which bring me to a new beginning
a woman in a grey sweater
a woman of arrogant catholicism
a woman with blue eyes
the phantasms of my Octobers

October is a month
cool
and aromatic
it is a month
redundant
with love

October is a life
I have lived
a song I have sung
a love too far afield
from my abilities

Mission Unaccomplished a random landing
after a flight without a plan
a voyage of discovery
or confusion
depending on the language
spoken
on the day
in question

mission unspecified
orders unclear
the snows of winter
thinner than the hairs of his head
the voice of man
stirring his thirst
for creation
the voice of woman
stirring his fear
of success

mission unaccomplished
he stayed
nonetheless
in the field
where he landed
and carried on

Wood and Steel
an allegory
there is nowhere safer
than a piece of wood
which lets me release
a sculpture

nowhere more peaceful
than a bench
covered with knives
and chisels
and woodchips

even the blood
released by the errant blade
is a persona of beauty

Spring, 2010

And now, it’s April
She is long gone
I roam the streets alone
sometimes thinking
most often not

I remember too much
when my mind’s at work
and so
I keep it blank
as blank as I can
savoring the emptiness of mind
to disguise the pain

Christmas, 2009
The feast went well
I thought we were closer
until she came to me
two days after
placing my key on the table
telling me of another man

I did not cry
nor threaten
but drank my beer
in quantities enough for three
until the flu dropped in
to end my self-pity
and teach me a lesson
in humility

 


Sunshine
the sun is shining today
I will not praise it
it only makes the lonliness brighter
and the sadness deeper

there was a time
when sunshine meant long country walks
and train rides to anywhere

there was a time
when sunshine meant
you

Alone on Stone Street
mind wandering
body roaming
no one seen
no one heard



copyright 2007-2010: john zavacki (the elder)