February 16, 2005

• ElectricPoetry Post

  

   

  In 1975 I wrote 19 poems.
   
  The Baptist doctrines I had been taught as a child saw the light of day in ’75, as I gave up marijuana (although not booze). I needed something to pull me together and found an outlet in Christianity. That is until I found Ruth, a wonderful girl who read my poetry and fell in love with me. I later shattered the relationship which could have been satisfying. She was much too good for me.
  MFN from the 1980 introduction

   

  “Falling for the Pillar of Hope”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © September 12, 1975

  
  The visions melted in the void
  And rabid running dogs went wild
  A close surrounded safe abode
  Broke clear through where the rocks were piled.

  
  My mind was shadowed by the safe
  And unconsuming pillar of hope
  That life was simply easy living
  Climbing high on life’s long rope.

  
  Waving to friends in the distance
  Calling as I lost my hold
  Pillars crumble very fast when
  Rooted in a field of mold.
  As I slide down life’s long rope
  I find my safety long gone by
  And now, ’twill never rise again
  No matter how hard it will try.

  
  These false pillars shattered clean
  I’m faced with what I can’t explain
  A million demons walk around
  Inflicting cold and searing pain.

  
  And while I search I cannot find
  Someone to help me through the dark
  So I will grit my teeth in fear
  And hope bites aren’t as bad as barks

   

   

  
  “The Little Things”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © December 27, 1975 1:00 a.m

  
  It’s as if the little things in life
  Were finely detailed porcelain statues-

  
  So beautiful and delicate
  When viewed alone

  
  But when the little things in life
  Are viewed together

  
  It’s as if all these procelain statues
  Are thrown in one big pile

  
  And they become a broken mass
  Of jagged glass.

  
  In 1976 I wrote 20poems.
   
  I moved to Torrance in the latter part of 1975, and made new acquaintences and friendships. Apt the first poem for the new year is titled “Drinking Beer” and the last is “The Poetry Returns”. The poetry in reality barely existed.
  MFN from the 1980 introduction

   

  “Thirteen Poems”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  September. 17, 1976

  
  Visions collapse
  Walls hold calendars with no printed dates
  Autos speed at 40 MPH
  into apartment buildings

  Wonders cease
  Time sits down
  Memories laugh at present inabilities
  Youth ages

  Television
  Robot novels
  Small children laughing at Elvis Presley

  1776
  Smiles with contracts attached
  60 Dollar phone bills
  And movie nights where you fall asleep

  Hold it
  !
  Thoughts ask questions
  Answers are written on scraps of paper
  Floating in nonexistent bottles of beer

  Prophesy writes words on faceless people
  Who cannot comprehend
  The millions die
  Truth lives on
    but wears disguises
    So you can’t find him.

  Letterboxes breathe fire
    which by the way burns the letters.

  Love hates convention
  Love does not exist
  For me
  Anymore

      ”The Absolute Last Love Song”
        by Michael Nyiri
      Dedicated to Ruth Bain, who
      never inspired me to write
       it
      ”Here we are
      Sitting alone together
      You are talking about us
      And us isn’t listening
      And love knocks at the door
      And I leave you sitting by
      yourself
      And I answer the door
      And love has been shot
      Through the heart by
      Cupid’s arrow
      And I glance toward the
      second floor but
      cannot see where Cupid
      never was
      And you look up and find I’m
      gone -and you worry why
      I didn’t call
      While I’m out looking for Cupid
      who was executed for killing
      love
      But there was no communication
      of love
      So nobody knew she was dead
      And I forgot about you and
      Cupid
      And took love inside my apartment
      And slowly revived her
      Soon she remembered who she
      was – and left me alone
      So I could be happy

      And for you, the story was
      reversed.

  Visions escape
  Into the cold night air
  Clothes are removed
  And, standing naked to realism,
  I cannot explain myself.

         Goodbye
         MFN
         1-17-76 14 Poems later

   

  
  “Me & You”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © September. 17, 1976 1:00 a.m.

   

  ME:

  I am complex
  A phantasmagoria on two legs
  A troubled, worried
  Saddened wreck
  Walking about with a smile
  I will laugh
  And I will always betray myself
  I am like that
  I wish I knew you better

  You.
  How can I know what you’re like
  You seem simple
  A sheer vision of perfection
  Om a world of broken dreams
  A lovely radiant
  Beam of hope
  Beackoning to joy
  So he may follow.
  And you’ll both have a grand time.

  And when complexity and simplicity
  meet
  The juxtaposition will hurt the eyes.

  ---

  (Unrelated to this poetry post, but interesting nonetheless. I must admit I don’t “subscribe” to too many of these blogs, because I find I do most of my “commenting” on the same blogs of those who read mine, which is probably true for most of the bloggers in Xangaland. However, I noticed a couple of “handles” that seemed to have been missing for a couple of weeks, and I found that both sites have shut down. One was a really neat photographer, and the other wrote humorous cultural history articles. There aren’t really a lot of blogs (like mine, for instance) where the creator deliberately tries to emulate somewhat a magazine format, and as soon as I find them, they seem to disappear. The photographer had a small following, then almost overnight he began to get 20-30 comments each day, and one day, he wrote that he wasn’t going to be online that much because of a 12 hour a day job. Then he made a post saying that he was going to shut down his blog because “you never know who might be looking at your art and could be interested”. So he was going to participate in more “capitalist pursuits”. In other words, from what I gather, he was “discovered”, and is now going to make some money from his art. That’s the American Dream in the Age of Information. I always feel good when someone “just like you or me” is “discovered” on the internet. Of course then they have to shut down all the free access to their work. MFN)

  
  

  • 8:25 am
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