March 24, 2006

• ElectricPoetry Post

   

  “In The Grave”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © 1970 (16 years old)

  A crypt is lonely.
  Lonlier than an empty building.
  Lonlier than a dark night,
  Lonlier than a cold desert.
  A crypt is cold,
  Full of mold.
  Rats in packs
  Crawl the walls.
  The grave is dank.
  The walls are blank,
  Save the moss,
  That climbs in vines.
  Dark, dank,
  Cold, blank.
  The dead lay peacefully.
  The quiet stays dreadfully.
  One shivers,
  One cringes,
  At the musty slivers,
  And rusty hinges.
  Nothing in eternity is as lonely as a crypt.

   

  “Failing to Bridge the Gap”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © 1971 (17 years old)

  
  They’re talking at me through the plastic barrier.
  They’re yelling at me through the plastic barrier.
  They’re screaming at me through the plastic barrier.
  But the sound appears muffled
  And their voices cannot reach my ears.

  They’re talking sensibly from the other side
  Of the plastic barrier.
  They’re yelling obscenities through the cloud
  Of the plastic barrier.
  They’re screaming with pain from the distance
  Of the plastic barrier.
  But they’re the only ones who know it,
  And their voices cannot reach my ears.

  They tire of their bombasts
  Through the plastic barrier.
  So they talk to each other on their side
  Of the plastic barrier.
  And the ideas they exchange come from their side
  Of the plastic barrier.
  And they walk away slowly
  Leaving me on this side alone.

   

  “Wavelengths”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © December 21, 1977

  
  Bribed by the multifaceted quasi-barbed
  yet indelibly carefree, intellectualized
  vocabularies asking nothing
  but inane
  questions
  and offering nothing
  Save sactimonious fart-cracks
  At a world gone mad.

  What, one wonders, is he talking about
  as we puff our joints
  carefully listening
  analyzing nothing
  “Ask me if I care.”
  “Do you?”
  “No.”

  The people conversationalize
  They swim through the bullshit
  Forsaking true feelings
  And is it true that everyone’s
  clock mechanism winds
  at a different rate of speed
  And I never can find
  synchronization with anyone
  anymore?

  Well, we don’t like the bullshit
  But is it that everyone else
  doesn’t really want to listen
  doesn’t really want to know
  doesn’t really care
  “Ask me if I care?”
  “Why not?”
  “Forget it.”

  What are words
  But a hindrance
  To conversation

  And what is idle conversation
  But a hindrance
  To our wavelengths.

  The Deltas will never feel
   at home with the Gammas
  The Gammas will never feel
   at home with the Betas
  The Betas will never feel
   at home with the Alphas

  and the Alphas will feel lonely
  as they manufacture conversations
  and no one cares to listen
  and no one cares at all
  and no one learns anything at all
  from his fellow human beings.
  Tune in on my wavelength
  And I’ll try to tune in yours.

  
  “Untitled”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © April 20, 1980

  I feel so bad
  I counter the feeling with music

  The song is “Lonely Boy”

  I sit down to write a poem
  A bird sings outside my window
    voice becoming hoarse

    no lover appears

  one a.m.
  another day
  another excuse for writing poetry

  I remember the way she looked
    tonight
   looking not at me
  I remember the way she
   moved
   the way she smiled
   away
    all care
  I shudder to think I’m still
     in love
  Still able to call on the muse
     to try
  to win her over…
     because
  as I gaze at her with another
  the look in her eyes betrays
  the fact
  she thinks she
  never can feel love  and
    I know
    that the love I feel for her
    will help her
      help me
   
      help us

      help love

   

  “Symphony for One”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © January 1, 1983 7:30 p.m

  
  Hey girl, come on along,
  Jump on the wagon feed the dragon
  sing the song.
  The melody might be different
  But the words sure sound the same
  I may look different
  Don’t sound different
  Call my name.

  If you can see through magic
  If you can walk on air
  My love for you’s not static
  There’s a certain feeling there
  A movement for piano
  A string quartet for two
  You can be my music
  Let me play a song or two.

  Hey friends, come on along
  Kick off your shoes you paid your dues
  join in the song.
  Arrangements may be haughty
  But the words sure sound alike
  We’ve shed all sorrow
  Look towards tomorrow
  and the like.

  Hey today, I’m ecstatic
  Sing out the news express my views
  may be erratic
  You might just be the answer
  Though I only see you through a veil
  Do you in fact exist
  A dancer in the mist
  what a tale.

  If a future can frown at a lifetime
  And a past close its back door to me
  I will love you for now and the meantime
  I will feel your genteel ecstasy
  A poem for the moment
  Well versed in love’s harmony
  Prove to me no illusion
  Open your arms to me.

  Hey sweetheart, come on along
  Jump on the wagon feed the dragon
  hear my song
  Your face might be just so different
  But my dreams remain the same
  I may be different
  But I don’t sound different
  call my name.

   

  
  “Approaching Lonely”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  © 3/24/06 6:01 a.m. pst

  As the myriad throngs interfaced with humanity
  Throughout my short life I rejoiced
  But some personal friendships in time tend to end
  And I passed some by given the choice
  Always I’d grieve for the loss of close ties
  Familial, friendships or neighbors
  Connections, once vital, severing, leveling,
  Commesurate thoughts to belabor

  At once as the years of life’s wheel turn around
  The dozens do oft disappear
  I just can’t spend the time to regret or to fret
  Living in Lonesome seemed fine while I’m here
  I told myself often as the circle grows small
  That in time more friendships will arrive
  I tip my hat more, and I smile all the while
  But a wholesomeness seems to deprive

  I’m leaving Lonesome on the siderail
  As I speed down the track
  I’m approaching Lonely
  I’ll try not to look back
  I’ll give thanks for those I have left
  I’ll never stop trying to please
  But Lonely is difficult
  Different, dull
  A large burden, no weight shall be eased

  ---

  BEHIND THE POETRY: This is a series on lonliness, culminating with a new poem, written this morning. “In the Grave” was written when I was only 16. “Failing the Bridge the Gap” is a somewhat negative view of humanity written a year later. ”Wavelenths” was written in my 20s, and is nominally about socializing with a great mix of friends, and a treatise on the connections that matter.  ”Untitiled”, written in 1980 when I was pretty much living “in the gutter” and drinking heavily, is a plea for love. “Symphony for One”, from 1983, is yet another plea for love. Throughout my life, I seem to have been yearning for that special someone. The current poem, “Approaching Lonely” is not one of my better efforts, however if I stew about the words too much, then I’d never finish the poetry. I’ve always called myself “lonesome” and not “lonely” because I do spend a lot of time with myself. I have even snubbed people in my past, who wanted to get close to me. Now, older and hopefully wiser, I’m more open to friendships at the time when all the old ones seem to disappear. A postscript: Some of the images I use on the ElectricPoetry Posts, like the one of Kokopelli amidst parasols above, were created as the “group picture” on the Yahoo Poetry Group, ”ElectricPoetry”, which I moderated from 2000 to 2004. They are composited using my original photography.  MFN

  • 9:43 am
  • 18 Comments