November 4, 2009

Furthering explaining what my dear friend Sanford Goldstein suggested I do at the beginning of each diary page, giving an explanation of the who, what, when, where, and why of my poetry and haiga; nothing that it will unravel the puzzle but at least clue you into it's WHAT, I share the following:

Unafraid like most to reveal my true self, including the dark secrets that'll secure my place on the wings of whisper, I share with you here what goes through my mind this day.  Born on Friday the 13th, type A, genius IQ, more sensitive than the average female, unable to be like others, no matter how hard I try, talkative as hell, uncomfortable with crowds, and angry, I can be nothing else.  Nobody calls me on the phone, writes, e-mails, or texts me except for my sister, my daughter Krissy and my brother Jim, unless they want something.  I'm far from being on anyone's class anything list, and am not invited to parties.  I was told by my dad, a perfectionist, whenever he got mad, that I was a sorry son of a bitch who couldn't do anything right, was whipped with the metal end of a belt on my back until welts appeared, made the target of jokes when I would step out of myself to be accepted . . . I became the rebel . . . the outcaste who defied the norm, made the impossible happen, a caped crusader who could save anyone but myself.

I was our conservative high school's first hippie. I commandeered the high school turntable communications system and played Suzie Cream Cheese by Frank Zappa and the Mother's of Invention during the morning break to a shocked campus. I stood up to teachers, bullshitted my way out of almost situation, and organized our region's first love-in.  And, because I had good looks and was the high school body building champion, I won the hearts of several girls from more than one campus at once, using them to gratify my need for acceptance, carrying little about their feelings. But as karmic justice often has it,  at the same time, I fell in love with a few, was blindsided by naivity, and given my just due.  To make things more complicated, I helped the underdog and helped anyone in need, especially those who went without.  I enlisted in the Navy because I was afraid of getting a girlfriend pregnant, who later dumped me, signed up to go to Vietnam and fight commies, and while there, discovered drugs, fucked bargirls, helped a Catholic orphanage, changed my mind about why America went to war, fought the system, and was booted out of the Navy with a with a General Discharge for Unadaptability under honorable conditions. My fiance dumped me when i returned stateside a minute after she answered my knock on her door, I got in a motorbike wreck high on hashish the first week of my return, organized all of the anti-war demonstrations in President Richard M. Nixon's hometown of Whittier, California (USA), followed Alice into a wonderland of LSD and Mescaline, laid in my own vomit, fought off madness, discovered Jesus, organized and preached at concerts and Christian rallies, enrolled in a baptist college, affected the norm there too, and that, dear reader, is the tip of the iceberg . . .  doing this and that, my mind warped, angry, compassionate, helpful, a conglomerate of the good and the bad. I have five children, a stepson who's a son to me, 4 wives, went on a wild toad ride traveling between hell and heaven more than once, an unwillingly poster boy for those who preach against child abuse, drugs, the effects of war; taught the unwanted for 16 years in the public school system, and became the founder of the Wonderland Amusement Park, a place I'd never take one of my children to....  Read my poetry, view my haiga, discover a world only William Blake or Allen Ginsberg could relate to.  Read on, ride on the wings of whisper to me what it was you dreamt the other night after downing several glasses of brandy. Good luck crossing the bridge between taurus and gemini during the year of the Ox:

the wind, the

rain, the typhoon between

canyon walls!

imagine

feeling something you've

never felt

before, mount pinatubo

between the thighs

*Pinatubo, an extinct volcano that exploded like an atom bomb

brown-out;

like we could give a damn . . .

pinatubo!

let yourself

just once, feel what

scares you,

going over the edge

without panic

taal . . .

the caldera in the

lake, climaxes

*Taal, pronounced ta al, the most active volcano in the world

don't push me

away at the moment

you feel like

you're going crazy . . .

the sky shooting stars

a sea

turtle's shell holding

my ashes

if you knew

me better, you'd see

madness pulse

through every nerve

ending and thought

breathe in

the elixir of spring . . .

remembering

the river

behind our house . . .

on a hot

day, the cool water

whispering, "more?"

winter's breath . . .

don't follow me into

the squid's mouth

i'm too far

gone to pull myself

out of hell . . .

i dance the dance

taught to me at birth

this mind, the

curse given to me . . .

weaving webs

i've failed

everyone i've loved . . .

a whisper

gathering dust in

my sister's garage

last winter . . .

only crows and flies

will mourn

before i

die, i want to give you

something to

remember me by . . .

lightening flashes!

peach blossoms . . .

ferdinand fooled himself

with dreams

i can't

remember the last

time someone

called

to say, hello . . .

friday the 13th

surprised? why?

when was the last time

you called?

the end,

morrison sang slowly

as if

he alone held the key

to eternity

deep breathing . . .

having sex with the air

of winter

at the dock,

a magic swirling ship

that may or

may not taken us to

the dragon's heart

mud springs . . .

waiting for you to

open up

Once again

i plunge into the

carp's mouth

hoping to find the

fish's temple

through my

window a snail looking

through his

go on,

enter my world, fill

my sandals  . . .

fell the void that has

no intention of ending

under my

plate, a tiny ant

waits for dinner

fly your heart

on a paper kite,

its tail

festooned with a

thousand wordless prayers

tonight for

the reunion, pants

made of stars

your song when

i kissed your back

and neck

pulled me into a dream

i'd forgotten til now

this bright sun . . .

dreams of you laying in

a pool of blood

tease with me

the water wriggling

downstream in

a dark line at night

while milk fish spawn

vomit

people telling me

to come back

late evening . . .

i watch a thousand

stars sewn

together into

a moist full moon

dark, quiet . . .

hormones and hand

grenades

the dance of

your fingers at dawn

when light

fills your mind with

sampaguita blossoms

* Philippine national flower

grasshoppers . . .

singing empty

requiems

without the

other, we are halves

fastened

together with tape

on paper thin limbs

without you,

i'm a mango seed

sans water

robert d. wilson

©2009