Tenderloin Meltdown Bowdown

To the pregnant schizophrenic girl who had me touch her belly

and told me she would birth the Savior of the World.

Your face was yellow and the swelling of your skinny body felt like a tumor.

My Teacher's painful vision of my overweening pride,

I never saw you again.

I bow down to you.

To the Vet who wept and told me “I killed them for nothing.”

You took my five dollars for a sandwich and a beer,

said “thank you, brother” and hugged me when I said I too have killed.

My Teacher's painful vision of my paralyzing shame,

I hope you found a job.

I bow down to you.

To the broken and addicted,

squealers, dealers and afflicted

to greedy johns and needy whores

and their mamas doing chores

and the hustlers running scams

and the bustlers trying to scram

to the children off to school

ignoring all the butts and drool

to the rollers cruising through

saving many from a few

until they lose it will-nilly

and beat some poor lone bastard silly

to those who preach the Unknown God

transgendered with the unreal bod

and the ladies cutting hair

while the crazy spit and stare

to the howlers and the moaners

cheap liquor vendors and bar owners

I too will do what I must do

until we don't.

I bow down to you!

Love,

John O.

Flame of Love

Though he fall into the blossoming flame
and smell the burning flesh and feel desire,
in his howl of agony and shame
the wise will hear the voice of someone higher.
This world must burn, desire for beauty rage.
Love spares neither flawed nor perfect mind.
The fool, the rogue, the sot, the sage,
Love burns to leave one ash behind.
He will. He will breathe deeper than he can.
From far beneath him lift his eyes above.
Look: John is a fine wise man.
But burnt.
                 I AM alone the flame of love.

                              [adapted from the Mr Bones Doggone-Versations]

Love,

Burnt John

Love and Death Sonnet for Diotima

Some point out rightly all things joined are parted.

There’s no exception to this bitter rule.

So why pursue what leaves one broken hearted?

Why love, they ask, when Love's end is so cruel?

I’m tempted to reply, they've not loved You.

But I know well that answer won’t persuade.

Another fool, they’ll say, who fears what’s true,

Who lives oblivious to Death’s sure blade.

I am a fool. Let that be stipulated.

For only fools are granted to glimpse this:

In perfect Love, not even Death is hated.

His cruel cleaver also joins in bliss.

All things must pass. This truth brooks no exception.

But Life’s our wedding. Death is our reception.

Love and Death to All,

- John O.

Mystery (for D)

Such a Mystery to tell

from high above your Fontanelle

to deep beneath your Sacred Toes,

there's a Mystery I know

I don't know, and cette je ne sai quoi

hushes me and pleads “tais toi!”

But as poet I must sing

this Mystery and I must bring

a thousand times through Heaven's Hell

such a Mystery to tell.

Forgive me if I tell it now:

You have made me Love somehow.

Yours in Your Mystery,

- John O.

We Could Get Together

There's a preacher in the Bible
says that all is vanity.
There ain't much you'd call survival.
Get it straight for sanity.
To everything there are two seasons:
a Spring and a Fall.
Don't ask me the reason
but it's true.
Still as long as there is anything
anywhere at all,
we could get together
Me and You.

Darlin, you be a shore breeze
and I'll be some old trees
I could bend with You until I died.
You be the Vast Void,
I'll be an ast'roid
orbiting your starry insides.

You be a jazz band,
I'll be a tune.
Use me every song in every set.
I'll be a bridge span,
You be the Moon.
I think we'd make a lovely silhouette.

If You was a little vine
needin a place to climb,
I could always be your garden pole.
If I was a thirsty horse
lost on a desert course,
You could always be my water hole.

If You was a sunflower
bloomin just one hour,
for an hour I would be your stem.
If You was a deep bog
and I was a tree frog,
I would hop down all the time and swim!

Honey, You be a southern clime,

I'll be the sunshine.

That way I could always keep you warm.

If you led the bees' life,

I'd be a beehive.

That way you could come to me in swarms.

Babe, I'll be the summer air,
make like a mountain.
Between us we could melt a little snow.
You be a public square,
I'll be your fountain
somewhere in the south of Mexico.

Some say this universe
stinks like a cesspool.
Some say it is beautiful and pure.
I don't know good from worse,
I'm just a crass fool
but I will always love You. That's for sure.

[Adapted from The Mr Bones Doggone Versations]

A  Smashing Love to All,

- John O.

Kingdom of Ghosts

In the Kingdom of Ghosts the Queen is also dead.
Her silver shadow scepter threatens only the deluded.
If they knew that they were dead, it would have no point
but I, who thought I lived here, felt it sharp enough.

No one lives in this cold electric land.
I see the way the light shines through my body.
My sex is phantom and even if she beds me,
even if she calls me King, I’m dead.

She thrusts but I don’t parry. Now I know.
Ghosts can’t hurt ghosts, but I remember
sunshine and water and the breath of the living.
Smash this ghost with love. I will be born.


Love to All,

- John O.

Midway

there is an eyeball in my heart
that can no longer squint away the pain
its pupil dilates and it has no lids

it sees when the clerk smiles false
when the child pretends to love because
how else can the loveless be endured?

Diotima from this rung of your ladder
both top and bottom disappear in fog
shapes dim and not so dim move up and down

the eyeball in my heart makes out
the son who is prodigal but never returns
the father who wants to reach but can’t

who says i can climb higher?
my eye can’t close and my limbs grow tired
only my hand clings to your ladder

knowing you have touched it
kind fierce Mistress of the Wise
i am glad


love,

- john o.