POEMS
by
Reinhard A.
Palovcik
Edited by Tom Miller
© 1995, 1996
Reinhard A. Palovcik
and FREDInk Records
Revealing
dimensions
some
touching
some
bizarre
from the mind of the author
Reflection
In that brief instant of
life
I was
child
young
man
old
man
dying
Recalling in that moment before death
One sparkling summer
day
fragrant breeze under
crystal blue
sky
ringing with bright expectation
Expecting
soon
some secret spiritual
fulfillment
While they prospered from their greed and petty lies
I
suffered for
them
for their blindness
And for their
victims
starving
and cold
They devoured the world around
them
to gratify their raging
desires
Like
addicts
searching only for
every next
pleasure
Unstoppable
with great momentum
But their lives also ran out
And their
headstones
now monuments to their inhuman deeds
Loss
To hear that
voice
to again look into those eyes
To feel, again, the
loss
tearing
ripping
me apart
Years of
regret
years of forgetting
Vanish in the instant of that familiar
smile
So long
ago
I gave
it all
to
no avail
Here she is
again
in all her radiant beauty
The purity and innocence of her
spirit
That so long ago captured my heart
Once
again
the only real
escape
death
Worthless
The languid worthlessness of
my life
I was so
good
I topped them all
Outsmarted every one
Only to then be
faced
with that monstrous enormity
of
Universe
time
and
death
Erosion
I will not resist death
I
hold nothing dear
My own small fragments of
love
let them not challenge my
expiration to
dust
to nothingness
Let me dissolve
gradually
as slowing and ending
thoughts
erode my awareness
of you
Never
And she never
was
is not
now
and never can be mine
Out of
bitterness
I
blast
all
those
ecstatic
fulfilled lovers
May they
wallow
in their lustful
transgressions
Chasing
that
ever-quickening
instant
of orgasm
that balms their
raw-torn nerves
Trying to escape the plodding pulse of
time
that ever so slowly
sucks their breath away
But
if
in that numbing
flash
of coming
they new life
create
Pray, let it not
follow
my
own
narrow
blind
path
to hell
Hiroshima
For so
many
no new
day
dawning
with hope
The lucky
ones
boiled
away
in
the flash
For those burnt canisters of flesh
With their blank stares
of blindness
Still able to walk, but not to smile
Every
new
unendurable
moment
filled with pain
Every new
hour
longing for an easy
death
And those unlucky few survivors
Who escaped
unscathed
only to feel the
gradual
rotting
of their radiated bones
Blind
Drive
Bare
concrete
the soft flesh of
your body
Grinding gears
legs
suggestively splayed
Single
blossom
yet unbloomed
Symbol
of your innocence
In that ripe instant of
time
when frost melts on
glass
The inertia of our
lust
sacrifices
all inhibition
We become
caught
in a hurricane of
obsession
Clothes
stripped
sweet embrace
Eyes to
eyes
consciousness merged
to a single
purpose
fingers
fly over flesh
With
tenderness
and hesitation
A gap is breached
Flesh upon
flesh
motion to
motion
a
primal dance begins
Loin to
loin
leg to leg
This friction of flesh works its way, slowly
To that
hidden animal brain we all share
Exploding in starburst
rhythm
Tingling tendrils of pleasure
Pulse through nerve and
fiber
Fulfilling a programmed mission
In that moment of
ultimate fulfillment
One forgets the other
Sucking intellect and
judgment
Down a narrow path
From which some
never return
A
Meditation
Staring into
space
into
nothingness
Blank visual
field
whether white or
black
It hardly
matters
black bleaches to
white
white blinks out to
black
Featureless
empty
Into
that homogeneous emptiness
Thoughts intrude Where am
I?
What time is
it?
No answers
Only
blankness
continuous
empty
From left
to right
Top
To
Bottom
Within
that void an anticipation begins
A gradual building of nervous
expectation
From once empty space
lines
curves
shapes
emerge
only to
again
collapse
quickly
back
into
that
void
.
.
A
single point, infinitesimally
small
representing
nothing
nothing
nothing
But not the absence of
everything
Because there remains
nothing
Nothing to
see,
but also, nothing to
hear
nothing to say
Astral
Projection
Preparations laid, bills paid, worries laid to
rest
Skeletons and ghosts of the past, forced to
vacation
First
posture
established
Deep meditation begins
Muscles
tense
relax
tense
repeatedly
Concentration
traces of bodily sensation removed
Mind is
isolated
moves
upward
Imaging
downward
a
glowing umbilical
Stretches back to
body
poised
in posture
motionless except for
shallow breath
Mind expands outward
A sensation of breeze
Swaying
tree branches
Hollow, echoing squawks of distant
birds
A Life's Work
Bloodshot
eyes
the reek of stale
tobacco smoke
He stares down at his hands
In his calluses sees the life
he has wrought
Each long day gnaws
away
another segment of this
game
Labors to eat, to clothe, to
pay
all those perpetually
mounting bills
Chained to
existence
by compulsive
expectations of family and friends
He drinks deeply to drain his
displeasure
and sinks into
a numbness of nonbeing
Only to again awaken to go to
work
The Core
Staring in to
that
center
behind
the
eyes
Inside:
thoughts,
feelings
Outside:
action <-->
reaction
Inside:
chaotic baseline
from which
patterns
emerge
mirroring the image of
Outside: shapes of pistons
pounding in
rhythm
Inside:
shapes of erotic
acts
Process:
excitation
intention
motor patterns emerge
machines
moving
with increasing
tempo
harmonic
resonance
instinctual
alignment
Inside:
turbulance
clouds obscure
reason
mixed images of past
loves, past lives
rancid reality
intudes as face flushes
worms
devour the ego
A distant clanging of Buddhist bells is
heard
as a deeper reality
coalesces
Empty Life
Empty life,
raw reality
No balm of wealthy excesses
Pure, simple earthen
chaos
The content of our last moments
Why did we not see this
earlier
To guide us away from
that
self-delusional mirage
of
ego-fulfilled
gratification
To understand that we live only once
That the present act
passes permanent judgement
on our
failures, our misdeeds
Understanding those final
moments
of realization before
death
Let us live pure
truth
love without expectation
Discard
money
possessions
lies
jealousy
Let us hold nothing in
restraint
and follow our true
course to its natural end
Cycle
You
give your love freely to all
Compelled by a wilderness of chaos
In naked
perfidy, without shame
Driven by programmed instinct
Your primitive
ganglia seize control
Drive muscles in coordinated rhythm
To achieve
that instant of completion
What follows: raw depression
Realization
of ultimate mortality
Death upon death
Generation follows
generation
In a never ending
cycle
of pleasure and
pain
Two Virgins
Two virgins, each
waiting for a lover
One expecting
marriage
the other,
fulfillment
Double date, dinner, dessert
Followed by: music,
seduction, orgasm
The marriage-bound weaves a
web
of schizophrenic
obsession
to pursue an
unobtainable
goal of complete
possession
The fulfillment-bound, bounds
off
to a new
love
achieving
another
and yet another
conquest
Neither understands the futility
of
her goal-oriented
pursuit
The true path is found within a
narrow
range of chaotic
interaction
part
saint
part
slut
in equal balance
Villum
Hey Hey
Villum
dost mock
millum?
Thrillum, chillum, drillum, killum
Fillum with no knock
nillum
Knock, knock, who's there?
Care bear, spare snare
Mare
scare, hare stare
Fuck a duck, duck a fuck
In suck muck luck
stuck
He eats, shits, reeks, speaks
"Get me out of
here!"
Morph
The shape, the form of
the universe:
A supergiant sphere of roughly
distributed,
expanding
stardust
Originating from a primary burst,
Ten or twenty billion years
ago.
That shape, that
form,
within the content of our
universe
of over 20 billion
galaxies
Is the manifestation of a
multidimensional
nonlinear
equation
With spatial coordinates very much greater than
one
and a negative time
value,
All nested within a
dimensional
representation of
process.
The spatial aspects clearly
have
Mandelbrot derivative
dynamics,
Within an infinity of coefficient
varying
morphoses
There lie
those values specific to our space and
time.
Suckedry
Over and over again,
she sucked him dry
Drained his scrotum of those
essential
life-generating
fluids
Until he was but a heaving, pulpy shell
Wheezing with every
breath through
the large hole in
his groin
He asked himself, "Is this love?"
Continue to part II
of POEMS by Reinhard A.
Palovcik