Somebody Tonight

The avenue sleeps as the neon flames thru the marquee hung above the bars.
The chanteuse sings a tune in her acoord.
And you lay your head on the marbled counter, musing at midnight an angry poem, vanishing in the cobwebs of your thoughts, while your mood withers in the pattern of ironic changes.
Your mind occluded by themes of burning Saturday in company so intently, amidst the chant of such dim strangers,
You’re desiring that you could have the sun as your eyes- scorching whomever you want; the clouds as your beard so you can hide your tears like the rain; a radio for ears, so you don’t have to listen to the confessions and interviews of actual people, only celebrity types and all you want to hear otherwise is music.
Your freedom has been confiscated by a pretense that was symptomatic in lifestyle,
Draped in jewels of quasar-diamonds in your ring,
The constellations of episodes disappear in your histrionic cranium,
Your veins like tunnels on which tequila overflows.
The hunger blackening the tips of your mind, twitching your fingers, bruising your chest, and touching your spine with a cold clutch.
Endless nights, awaiting your tenement apartment where you can lie blankly, just la-la-la lie down.

48 Comments

  1. This is brilliant too. Actually, both poems are brilliant in a different way.

    “Draped in jewels of quasar-diamonds in your ring,
    The constellations of episodes disappear in your histrionic cranium,
    Your veins like ground on which tequila overflows”

    “Endless nights is housing buildings already built, awaiting your tenement apartment where youcan lie blankly, just la-la-la le down.”

    Oh, you are killing me. I need a tequila. Kid you not.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Love this too. Strong descriptions, visual clues that allow readers to choose their path, if the obvious path doesn’t resonate. It takes me back to the days when I felt I had to go along with the trappings of the music scene. My mind just wanted to rest, in the isolation of my own haven, instead of having to annotate, file and hopefully purge thousands of stories from those with inebriated lifelines. I am there, in the thick of it, due to your prolific words.

    Like

  3. The kind of facile superficialities that make you want to curl up in a blanket and “la la la le down”. On the surface, things that glitter may not necessarily be made from gold, or marble benchtops. So many lines to love within this poem

    “And you lay your head on the marbled counter, musing at midnight an angry poem..”
    “You’re desiring that you could have the sun as your eyes- scorching whomever you want; the clouds as your beard so you can hide your tears like the rain; a radio for ears.”

    Honestly, that benchtop needs a pillow.

    Magnificent poem.

    Like

      1. There is a nice symmetry here in that I feel I could have written this comment but directed it in greater measure toward you. I truly loved this poem, I would love to be able to write in this style and maintain such cohesion and meaning. It truly is glittering.

        Like

  4. I love neon…Vegas…where you can be completely alone in a crowd, but the light can be beautiful or cheap and tawdry, according to a person’s POV and mood, because no one can fill those holes, give anyone what they’re missing, so sometimes it’s better to lay down and find the answers on the ceiling.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. As to form: I love this form. It is a very efficient form for a narrative because it has a cadence, a slight lilt from the beginning of one thought or description to the end of that thought or description so that I was rocked forward, but not violently, to the next thought. Forward and backward until the last blank lying down.

    The form lending itself to a much softer voice than you usually show and more obviously pensive. The jewels not on the surface but a layer or two down. Like straining a little to actually pick up the dim chant of strangers or to see tears which reach a beard in order to be hidden.

    I haven’t thought about Howl! for many years until I read your text and realized – I may have forgotten this – that the power of Howl! rests in the contrast between its desperate substance (Words, meaning) and this same lilting, quietly treading, narrative form you have used.

    There is not this degree of contrast between this form and your substance. But the form fits your substance, nonetheless.

    As to the substance of your poem: insightful take on the frustrations of our glitter-surface civilization

    I look forward to your uses of this form. Can’t wait, really.

    Even more intellectually stimulating for me because this form has more discipline than the one you usually use. The more disciplined the form, the more difficult to use it to create meaningful substance. Which is what counts. Because, as I know you know better than I, it is the substance which carries the potent emotional intelligence which we seek. Haiku the most extreme example of this rule, I suppose.

    Poet, wonderful. Sarah

    Liked by 1 person

  6. So you may know that Rome has two rare, opposing characteristics: she has sacred status for her pre-Christian history and her Christian history; and she – Roma-Amor- is aesthetically and intellectually the supreme seductress.

    She is overwhelming for this reason. I know you know this; and if you succeed in writing anything coherent while you are there, you will be showing fortitude!

    Please drink me a small negrone: Campari with fresh orange juice and one cube of ice: the first drop spilled on the ground as libation and tribute.

    Enjoy! Sarah

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Oh wow I really like this. I can almost see her sitting at the bar, in fact I think I know her. I recently told her that I feel sorry for any guy that messes with her. She smiled like it was a compliment, but it wasn’t. I’ve also known a male that was this way as well, I kind of feel sorry for them. I like your observation and giving life to the mention of body parts, lovely touch. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

  8. “You have the right to recite quotes
    about freedom. You may even sing
    a Bob Marley song before consulting
    you Lawyer. But make sure you get
    a really good one, son.”
    ~ Sheriff Celebrity Leprosy

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Sounds like a night at the Red Lounge.
    I caught the last train to Clarksville for
    I preferred that blues sound, rather than
    what was reverberating above ground.
    As the social engineers of this current
    dysfunction charge your credit card of freedom.
    A deeply perceptive piece of writing πŸ‘

    Liked by 1 person

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