August 1, 2011
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ElectricPoetry: The Endless Party
“I’ll Be Here When The Party’s Over”
NEW POETRYPoetry by Michael F. Nyiri
8/1/11 6:00am pdtHello and welcome
Would you like a drink?For you my place might be a waystation on the way to somewhere else
A place where you can chill for a few hours
Or get your bearings
Before heading off to your destination
Or after coming back
I’ll attempt to be a good host while you’re here
And try to remember to ask to refill your drink
Forgive my lack of conversation
Every time I open my mouth I seem to repeat myselfThe bathroom’s down the hall on the right
Sometimes I’m vibrant and talkative
Sometimes I’m quiet and reflective
Sometimes I may seem to be morose
Yet I’ll always make an attempt to
be inviting and open to possibility
I’ve been party people all my life
So as I age I like to keep young
By perpetrating the party at my place
Allowing younger and younger
people to drop in whenever
I don’t seem to say no too oftenThe door sometimes seems
like it might be revolving
People come and go
(usually right as it’s getting light)
My place seems to be where
people find themselves right before
their carriages turn back into pumpkinsI rarely seem to make eye contact
I may be looking at you, but I might
be looking right through you
Perhaps I’ll remember you name tomorrow
Or I mean later this morning
I may not even remember you
You’ll likely remember the old bald guy in passing
The one with all the Betty Boop paraphanelia
And the seeming regard for hip hop music
(Even though I couldn’t tell which selection is playing,
and every time I put on some of “my music”
nobody really wants to listen)Before you dropped by
Whoever you are,
I was content here in my place
My place is my world
And after years of moving around
I’m settled down here.
One moment, the lights are out
I’m satisfied, being entertained
With a movie
Or entertaining myself
by creating on the computer.
The creativity never stops
It only rests for a while
Suddenly a phone call
Or a stark rap on the glass of the sliding door
and “Can so and so come over?”
I’m always up for a party
“Sure”My life is displayed on the shelves of my curio cabinets
My words are forever frozen in time on my website
And after the familiarities are exchanged
Do we really have anything in common?
And do either of us really care?
I look in the mirror and I know I don’t fool anyone
Young at heart (it’s beating quite strong)
Not handsome
Nor sexually appealing
Nothing special
Another face in the sea of humanity
I may even ask you how old you think I may be.
Even if I do halfheartedly participate in the party
You’ve got to realize
I’m just able to turn on the lightswitch in my persona
(usually)
just like I turn the lightswitch on in the house
When people come overYou’ll be here for a while
Until the group decides to go somewhere else
And then I will stand up
and slide back the door,
Make fleeting goodbyes,
Exchange passionless hugs
And watch your back as you disappear
Into whatever vehicle brought you here
Including the pumpkinsI turn off the light
Select whatever movie I was watching
Or go back to the website I was visiting
Or take a nap
Or do whatever it was I was doing in my life
Before you dropped by
On the way to somewhere elseWhen you’re gone, my party’s switch is clicked off again
I’ll still be here when the party’s over
and I’ll be here when the next one begins
Just don’t call on a weeknight, okay?“and the PARTY begins”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
1972 (19 years old)
Sit in the corner
Avoiding eyes
Then you see her
She is sitting alone in the corner too.
Records playing
Strobes burning
Everybody’sdrinkingandhaving”fun”
She and you could be together“Hello,” you know you’re drunk
But boy you say to yourself
Isn’t she cute
“Hi” she returns and you know what that
means so you throw her a kiss
and she returns that,
and the PARTY begins for youLying there in her lap
and everybodyelseintheplace
is lying there in her lap
And you tell her you love her
And everybodyandhisbrother tells her
They love her tooAnd she says “I love everybody.”
The door closes and some guy says
“Goodbye”
You get in your V-dub and drive away
And you didn’t even get her address.
“Questions: Parties”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Aug. 5, 1973 10:30 p.m.
I hear melodious strains of music
While watching dances to break the box.
A young girl touches her lover’s cheek
And maestros drink to their health.
A rock and roll oldie fills the
smoke-consumed cubicle
We smell a melange of odors
Music mellows throngs one moment
Then rips everyone our of their senses again.While dreams crumple up like yesterday’s newspaper
A type of music fills the room
Any type of music
Music and people spell a partyGlass-filled imagery sitting on nonexistant
ledges walking through a maze of legs
Notice all the girls who sit with four-
mixed-drinks talking to the wallsI sense with all my soul a person over there
She talks with me a while then I remember
that tomorrow it will all be over and
I may not see her again…
When you’re under, everyone is so happy
And everyone is so eager to be friendly
But how will she interpret my advances
Do I realize that behind that pretty
face is a living human beingForty seven people are having a good time
And while we try like hell
We know we’re only giving a good show
Because I know I’m wond’ring what
Each look she gives is hiding
What are her secrets?
Will I ever know?Every party attended holds a couple dozen
You don’t know –
And if she’s among them you contemplate
Whether or not you can really get close.Will she be like last time?
Will I evern know?What will she be thinking
Does she know I’d just like to be with her
I’ll bet she thinks
“He’s just giving me a line”
Is what we say the truth
Do we believe in truth at all like that
which people learn in Sunday School at sevenIf my Vdub is gassed up I cold take her
away from all these faces in this cubicle
And away alone I could know her –
But does she want to be known
Or is she a face at a party
And will I ever know?“TGIFexistence”
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
September 17, 2004 : 5:56 a.m. pdtLife is a week, reap what ye seek
Monday is awareness and play
Tuesday responsibility
Wednesday assessment
Thursday regrets and dismay
Friday fulfillment
Saturday sublime realization
Sunday life passes again
For
Monday looms over the horizon
BEHIND THE POETRY: I decided to post the new poem first, for those who can’t make the time to read all the poetry in the post. I think I’m going to stop using the word “hiatus”. I’m a blogger on Xanga, and I’ll continue to post blogs on Xanga, but blink and you’ll miss their appearance in your inbox. If you’re a longtime reader, just visit the main page of the blog every couple of weeks, and you’ll notice if anything ”new” is online. I’ll post entries when I have a mind to. I may or may not visit other Xangans. I was showing somebody my “Universe of Websites” on Saurday night, and for them the amount of content was overwhelming, but I kept thinking that I haven’t updated any of the sections for a year. Haven’t even added a “Teens” section to the ElectricPoetry site. (However, all current poetry is always accessed from the “ElectricPoetry” tag on Xanga.This is a selection of three poems about partying. (And a fourth “TGIFexistence”, from 2004 which I hardly remember writing.) When I was younger, I attended lots of parties. I used to quite a “party person” and during my 20s and early 30s I sometimes found myself awaking in strange places when I was too drunk to drive home, and crashed wherever I happened to be. Lately, I “party” at my own place. Since I live in a small mobile home, having five or six people in the house exudes a “party atmosphere” since it can get crowded. I’ve always had an interesting viewpoint about partying. The party seems to go on forever someplace, and when partying I try not to forget about the fact that “party people” are simply people, and not “a maze of legs” MFN/ppf
Comments (9)
Not a maze of legs eh? Haha, gotta say that’s the first time I’ve heard that term.
hey, brother it’s nice to be welcomed to your world
I find out that you have blogged by checking UI (Universal Inbox).
I find the comparison of the poetry at various times of your life to be very interesting. It appears “party” is a metaphor for “life” and “perceptions” at various times.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us and welcoming us to your world.
~~Blessings ‘n Cheers
Great poems, Mike
It’s AMAZING that you have writing from you being 19 years of age. I don’t have anything that I’ve had more then about 5 years – just what I was born with. I don’t think I would even want to read anything I wrote back then, I was a much worse rebel then I am today, and it would probably sound much crazier then anything I’d write anymore.
I cannot imagine that you would EVER repeat yourself! (referring to the first poem up there). Some of my older relatives do it, my grandmother did it too, it’s annoying, I hope I never do it, I probably already do it but I’m pretty vigilent with people I’ve known a while to make sure I don’t.
U keep blogging too!
@Roadlesstaken - Dear Alex, “Maze of legs” is a metaphor from the third poem, written in 1973. I actually wrote this while I was attending a party, I always choose favorite lines from poems, including my own, and from “Questions: Parties” it’s “when dreams crumple up like yesterday’s newspaper.”
@DonnaLou - Dear Donna, When I say “you’ll blink and you’ll miss the entry” in the UI that’s if you have a lot of people on your sub and friends lists. I don’t continually update the time stamps, and I only wrote three entries in June. I always try to post something at least once a week, so people don’t think I’ve disappeared completely.
@Diva_Jyoti_3 - Dear Allison, The allusion to repeating myself is not saying the same thing to the same people, but saying the same things over and over to different people, some of whom I don’t seem to ever see again, and some of whom seem somewhat “interchangeable”. I’ve probably met two dozen folks over the past six or eight months, all friends and acquaintences of my neighbor, who is about a dozen years younger than I. His family is enormous, and a lot of his cousins, nephews and neices are in their early 20s. On the one hand, I feel lucky that I don’t have to go anywhere, and an endless stream of party people seem to show up at my door, but on the other hand, it’s beginning to become routine. I’ve written here on the blog about how I have been able to tell the same stories to new audiences without seeming to be repeating myself to longtime readers. (And this fear of repeating oneself is possibly my main reason for not blogging too often anymore, especially since, like “keeping” poetry from when I was 19, I have most of my “art and literature” online already, with lots of indexes so interested parties can find anything with ease.) Than you for the visit. MFN/ppf
@baldmike2004 - In my case, most of my subs and friends are no longer posting on Xanga, so missing blogs generally is not a problem. Besides, I sometimes go back a ways to make sure I don’t miss posts. Also, I get some posts by Daily Digest alerts sent to my e-mail address. The only blogger’s posts I have missed sometimes are those posted mommachatter & I hadn’t figured out why that was.
Love to see new poems from your mind, Mike
I always enjoy your poems, Mike! And, yay, for a new one! I know you love to write!
My fav of these is “and the party begins”! And “i’ll be there when the party is over”!
I really enjoyed reading these!
My poetry from my teen years is not as good as yours is! But, it’s still fun to go back and read them and see how I’ve grown, and how my writing has grown a bit. Mostly as a teen girl I wrote about love, boys, my feelings.
HUGS and good to see ya’! I haven’t been around much, as this summer has been so busy for me! a GOOD, FUN busy!