November 28, 1979
1:00 p.m.
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Empty Beer Cans (Passive Reflections on the Insanity of Life)
a thoughtpoem
He lay, silently, eye half open revealing the liquid besmirched lens and the crooked wire frame. Ahead the plains of green nylon weave half shining from the morning sun half dark from the spilled ashes Looming in the distance.... the untamed forest, of half-empty... and empty beer cans An arm swings stealthily aside in an effort to upright him toddling under uncertain weight A leg juts forward and knocks over a lone tree in the forest of cans the timber falles carelessly The eyes misbelieve they're in focus But all that can be seen is the forest inhabited only by fears. "No Aura Inspired" Blank was the face blank forever scorned Wishing not, wanting not, hoping not blank as the walls should be save for the stains running in place down.....down No words yet no future A dirty sink filled with the empty beer cans And no thought as to the outcome Why? was an existence, never a question And one knew in one's heart the answer would never come The girl was an enigma The evening's events forgotten Only a few faces And snatches of unheeded conversation This would be the day maybe The end.... No aura inspired the first thought No beauty in the flora No feeling in the songs No question this time, just the emotion, Un heralded Un defined Un sure But underlined Heavy in debt to his senses The blank face found refuge in time. "Late Morning: Hear the Children" Romance arrives to they who wait But the children have no time They laugh and cry, emote to a world Thet slowly dies, tears in my eyes The immortal question which tears my soul Is born in poor children today We laugh in a world peopled with death It's the children who have to pay, Suffer the little ones, unfinished souls Only innocent truth do they speak They fight little wars, with only themselves That they'll never win, no end to begin Our waste witheld wonders will never see birth And I see in the children today That problems reflected in empty beer cans Are meaningless, when the kids have to pay. "Faith" Repeating the same words again, as if I were reliving the last acid trip - listening to the last refrain, staring at the same beer cans pile up over the centuries. Again and again and again like the record stuck in the repeat mode like doing the same job over and over driving the same route Eating the same meal Deja Vu But it all has to end somewhere We think again, putting on the same song Rock and Roll - Deja Vu - drug stained revelations of some acid crazed mind saying I see the future and it is death But how can one live like this forever Over and over and over. The song is familiar but do we need - familiarity breeds...breeds... As I begin the same thought, the one I lost in eternity, I see the same pattern Is it true we do it over Until we get it right And will we ever get it right? "Manic Hallucinations" I frequently die in disgusting dreams Overindulging with outrageous themes Thinking, rethinking I'll show them all Hearing so crisply the kind Satan's call Kill 'em, just kill 'em and leave me alone Why must they scream at me, bug at my phone When I get letters from old enemies Why can't I learn to sting back at the bees And when I need communion with those whom I love Why don't they ever come over I drop lots of acid, think I'm insane Converse with the heavenly powers that feign Throw things at the window, bash the walls with my head Hope they find that I cried when they all find me dead When I fall in love, I can give it my all I can change positively, and reverse my fall But she never hears me or just cannot try I know I'll just keep it up till I die When I need communion with those whom I love I guess I never will find a lover. "Like a Snail on the Edge of a Razor", or "Live Fast, Die Young, and Leave a Good Looking Corpse" (Certainly is a credit to those who know the references for life I need a handle-hold A grasp Read about those less fortunate than myself Shed no amount of pity And laugh) Then climb in the car and find a station playing something with a beat - something to be celebrated - cram the gears forward - step on the gas - weave between the lanes a tapestry of existence with no purpose except excitement - speed fast so you don't have to look at the faces of those you pass. And you have to pass Or else you fail And the razor only pretends to be a friend "Nymph" I'm not fully awakened by the knock. It's my day off, so naturally empty beer cans piled up all this morning until sleep rescued me from a drunk. It's always like that unless I pack a couple sixers of bull in my belly. Ever wonder why they call it shitfaced? When you're that drunk you just don't care....After the third knock (they know I'm in here, they hear the stereo) I find my glasses and answer the door. Must be late after noon, sun's nearly down. The door opens to reveal a friend. The girl across the courtyard, begging again for drugs. This is a frequent happening. I'm drunk. Someone takes advantage. But they really don't. I happen to have what they believe is the key. If only they knew I tried so many fucking keys - and I keep trying - but I know they'll never open the lock...I invite her in. Her fragrance overpowers me. She knows I like her. If I were writing poems again she'd be prime subject, however I'm curious about her. She seems to be much more than what she shows me. The feeling's mutual; I'd like her to read my poems and get to know me; but I don't know why I don't reach out more eagerly for her. Right now I want to grab her and hug her, I feel she needs comforting...She offers me downers for a joint. I refuse. (If only she knew how down I really am, she wouldn't offer.) I decide to roll a joint for her anyway. I know she's only going to share it with someone else (she shares everything with someone else, and I feel that people take advantage of her - she let's them - but, well, anyway somehow I know she and I will never be soulmates, although I want to hold her, tell her I'm her friend - and feel she needs me as I need her...As I roll the joint, she does something unexpected (remember I already passed out earlier and I'm not on an even keel.) She breaks down and tells me she wants to escape from her existence. (That's a typical downer thought.) Then she says she'd like to live with me for awhile. (I treat this as the insane thought it is, although for me it would be a blessing. Might be for her too, if she sin't just on a down.) I think it over, and agree - she says I'll be surprised when I see her again the next day with her things. I am surprised - she comes over the next night (still obviously in a down) with her boyfriend. I'm not sure what I should be thinking or saying. Who can be sure in this type of situation? Obviously I say the wrong thing...Now it's nearly a month later. The boyfriend is mad at me! The girl hasn't come over at all. Not one small word of explanation. I'm very upset, yet very touched. I don't know how to feel, yet I feel very strongly even more so for the girl. Life is really insane. This elaborate explanation is only a preface. I wonder if I will ever see the nymph again........ Dipping but a fingernail in the waters of my troubles The nymph flirts with desire I tremble as I carefully try not to burst the bubbles Try not to come too close to the wire She's essential in her insistence that she feels the same as me But the nymph cries imagined tears And I really do not try But real tears I see And I glimpse actual fears For only but a moment I feel I wish to share myself The nymph smiles through the haze And in only but a moment I feel great imagined wealth And a strength to last through the days Nymph, I hardly know your name But I felt good when you came I relish love in all it's ways And I hope forever that it stays But nymph what happened Now you're gone Disappeared in some setting sun I'll wait all my life for the nymph to again show her face Although I know it was an illusion If I'm active or passive I'll always lose the race And forever dream of her vision. (This poem finished 2:50 p.m.) "Melody" If I feel bad I'll listen to a melody Infuse my sould with the music Suffer what the singer suffers Live each note before it happens. If I feel good I'll listen to a melody Infuse my soul with the music If I feel I am the melody and I shall dance and mean it.... "Stifle" Choke When did it begin and did it end And did we forget to define it And did it die And why do I always regret that I'm here. I only want to call somebody to my side And say I love you Why don't the words come Why isn't it simple anymore Did clarity disappear. Go on a date with someone else Days off are wasted with yearning And little else Accomplishments are things we hear about in 3rd grade honors class Was somebody pushing Or were we pushed out of shape? "My Friend Tom" Whenever I feel really bad I think of my friend Tom. Words cannot begin to express my closeness My feelings of serenity. At times when we're stoned together I can't relate - But I feel this is because he is much deeper than I I'm an insignificant ant in the world Consumed by feelings of insanity and bellicose impurities A tattered derelict on the road to hell I am a shallow mudbank A dying stream But my friend Tom ....is a friend to all. "Reprise" What can be said of empty beer cans? There's always too many to throw away. They must cost a lot to maintain. And sometimes Beer cans are found which are full It's all such a waste And isn't it a shame I know it As I stare at the forest of empty dreams. /entire manuscript finished 3:15 p.m. November 28th, 1979 MFN)
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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