I pick through some memories
Like a rodent through trash.
A landfill of moments,
Half buried,
Purposely forgotten.
Memories pushed aside,
Regarded as worthless,
Meaningless,
Pointless,
As poison.
But then, there,
At the bottom of the shredded bag,
Something,
Something almost digestible,
Not necessarily nutritious,
Not necessarily meant for consumption,
But it can be chewed and swallowed,
Followed by a gassy belch
And a dram of oily water
From a dented hubcap.
Compost,
Fermentation and taste of mud,
Disconnected taste buds
Allow for ingestion.
Dirty scraps of organic reason,
Chunks of fear and loathing,
Thoughts peeled from brain’s ceiling,
Methodically sliced away by cook,
The good with the bad.
What scavenger would not make due,
Tasting the bitterness
In lieu of nothing?
This feast a piece of twisted reality.
The gristle of anger,
The bone of contention,
The rotting carcass of compassion,
A banquet for the rats and the cockroaches.
Someone said,
"All they found was a hand and one eye."
Michael is once again, “True” to himself. Delving into the layers of the putrid past few discover amid the rot the pearls of wisdom so often displayed in his poems.
I guess some things were better not dug up.
Ron
Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE (Reader)
Reviewed on September 23, 2013
...for Odin: or falling completely apart
...for Michael: there is a stagnant pool where 'cess' is as much of a prefix as it is a summation... your sumptuous imagery pulls its repast from the odorific nether regions of that cesspool and imparts to dole dolour with an aura of vitriolic acid few can stomach, still fewer digest and disburse with quite so avid an alacrity... I applaud your intestinal fortitude... cast iron, I think...
This work more than encapsulates one of the most abused and neglected aspects of "keeping it togetha" Yeah, closure, if that's what's necessary, or accepting one's opinions and memories of same maybe not being in fact perfect, i.e., the embracing of it all, the allowance of yin and yang to coalesce might just be an answer...to something? Whether I'm right or wrong, this was one exciting piece of imaging and in depth consideration of those deepest layers of memories. Excellent.
A touching, loving and spirtual insight of the dying process, filled with peace, smiles and starting on their journey, taking me with them as far as I could go, returning back with something I didn't have before. Will be out early in 2010..on Kindle
The Psychic Dimension, Part II (558 pages) is a collection of 36 sci-fi/paranormal stories and the new work is the companion book to Jay Dubya's The Psychic Dimension.
Jason Chase, a man filled with personal demons, only wanted to finish his manuscript. But all his carefully laid plans disappear when a stranger showed up at his front door claiming to be his long-lost father.
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I guess some things were better not dug up.
Ron
...for Michael: there is a stagnant pool where 'cess' is as much of a prefix as it is a summation... your sumptuous imagery pulls its repast from the odorific nether regions of that cesspool and imparts to dole dolour with an aura of vitriolic acid few can stomach, still fewer digest and disburse with quite so avid an alacrity... I applaud your intestinal fortitude... cast iron, I think...
Amen!
L
budd