All posts by moustress

I'm a frightening truther.

Good!

Those last two poems are not reflective of my current mood. They were written months ago. I am feeling better tonight than I have in quite awhile. I am on the brink of setting up to sell some flashy sequined balls I have been working on for a half a year. I started after finding materials left over from 1999 when I did them just as Christmas decorations.

I dragged them along when I visited friends last fall and was surprised to find that I enjoyed doing them even more than I had fifteen years ago. Later, friends commented on the fact that I might want to make some just as art objects. I had been trying to paint and draw, but my hand eye coordination is not so good because of a movement disorder that was the result of a head injury. The sequins are fixed to styrofoam with pins and I can move one if I need to change the placement.

So far I have done about forty five of them. I have about ten with me, most of which were made in the last couple of weeks. Today I bought fixative to keep the colors from rubbing off. Then I need to figure out how to get good pictures of them to post online. I am excited and pleased!

assumption

 

you tell the truth to me
is truth all fact or does truth lie
when it turns sideways and laughs
as if to say do you believe me
when i say i promise you that is right
you understand that when I say this happened this way
that i approach the truth take off a piece to carry with me
and pass it on to you when time seems right
factually nothing is the way it seems
dry and crumbled mixed with sweat and tears
cast in stone like a brick you build with
when you put it all together will it stand
is that how the truth is made
facts show the bumps and edges
lies in fact to trip over falling
our faces smashed like pulp
in the process
processed facts loose their value quickly
all flavor flies out the chimney
chasing the dreams dearly held
how has harmony been saved by this
thick coating of dust mixed with color
carried into the view vanity vivifies
faces thought dead
do not assume
anything

Louie Spooner Bucklin  copyright 2017

awakening

awakening

wearing injuries like medals and ribbons
wondering how this came to be my life
is there a place for wondering if my illness
consists of the failed attempt to exist
alongside ignorance and antipathy
i weep for the wasted hours and days
i scream for relief as the pain spreads and spreads
others go down like ducks in a barrel
and i scream again and again
lock me up then and keep me safely
away from ears and eyes and hands
sick with sympathy and downed by dread
shutter the windows of my soul
bar the doors that lead to light
close the agency of my anguished life
is it peace that i have found in
solitary confinement of my heart
or only another piece of pain

 

Louie Spooner Bucklin   copyright 2017

the safe place

in the dark  uncertain how to go
i turn my gaze inward and feel the motion
still in my bed i remember myself again and in my mind i rise
speeding through the universe in five or more directions at once
me in my mind the vehicle steps out  rising higher and higher
first the whirl of the first circle i feel the thin skin of life
that wraps the orb of earth

then the magical motion
this world passes around and around
the orb of our star

extending consciousness
i catch the magnificent race of our star
within the arm of the galaxy

exultant and excited
the wings of the galaxy fly
quickly passing my imagination
but i know i move
i believe

out and out
farther and farther until
the scale becomes almost more
than I can encompass
thought fails

my heart my mind my spirit
embraces the wholeness and sings
what is next who knows
a wall a door a window
open for me

i sing
within the framework
the universe the cosmos the totality
dreams come to tell me
this is the way

Louie Spooner Bucklin                           copyright 2017

genius

in twilight
twisted genius guards
secrets spoken of in code
words whirling on the white pages
reality retold as fantasy
filled with darkness
blood pools

where it goes
when it moves into the distance
no one follows or calls out as it disappears
as past as past can be as fast as word and thought
fear banished forgot immediately
frozen face smiling
unseen

memories
cold-storage shadows
clues claw through the ice and climb
into view vaulting and veering
avoiding  direct contact
anger and desire
meet

i ask you
what chance has love
when lives become games
without rules

findings

lost for dead and gone
nearly forgotten in the precious past
scrambling to stay afoot while scrapping
over crumbs of possibility with ghosts of guilt and anger
coming to a place where things were standing
waiting for someone to find them
nameless blameless pieces
sing out take me

assembled together
it appears that there is a plan
a use to put to these things
for good

finding my voice
slipping through vanities foolishness
stopping and gazing at grand graces
lit in the distance of the future
open my mouth and try to say
this is who i am now
my song is coming
wait and listen

 

Louie Spooner Bucklin   copyright 2017

Rocks

when someone tells me to go fuck myself

there are so many directions I could go with that

do i do like the sufi and go into myself and revel in the sensation

of feet dancing  voice ululating

oh yes

dazzled by the light and sound into ecstasy and transport

one way to go and not a bad one

or do i retreat into sparse existence paring down what i take in

eliminating what is put out

releasing the self completely and sailing into nothingness and oneness

to be self fucked they wish me but they offer no map or sense of direction to go

i am inclined to do both by turns too much fun perhaps

but without better direction

there i go hither