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Favorites

Your favorites in poetry

Are Ginsberg (ALLEN Ginsberg?)

And Dylan – Dylan's cute,

A couple melodies are catchy,

And Thomas who in praise of god

(As all good poets should)

Wrote a stanza with a single line,

Whitman after grocery clerks,

And Shakespeare (what went wrong?
Shakespeare is an incongruity).

And to save the best til last,

A patriotic friend,

A pompous little phony

Who attempts to teach in school

What he cannot write,

And writes his name like e.e. cummings.

And then of course

You like my poems too.

1-20-13

Geeks

Never read a poet

After 1983.

Ignore the aging geek who goes for

Shakespeare, Keats, Millay.

Or leaks that he likes Bach instead of rap.

Vilify the phony with his

Seven dollar words,

Pompous authors, rhythm, meter, rhyme.

He's forgotten.

We will last forever.

Inspiration, beauty and a Muse

Are artsy words that winners never use.

1-20-14

 

Magic

Drop a wad of paper in a bowl,

Pastel tissue paper. Fill the bowl

With water. Watch the paper open up

Into a fish, a clam, a rock, a shell,

Very brightly colored,

And they float around the water.

1-20-14

 

Sad

Platinum and diamonds and gold

Just beneath the surface of the past,

Don't change, although a patina of age

Obscures them from a world that doesn't care.

Back when happiness made people happy,

And wit was joy, and humor was a song,

And sentiment was human, not obscene,

Berlin, Porter, Rodgers, Styne and Kahn,

Loesser, Lerner, Lowe and Hart were charming.

There is nothing charming anymore.

1-19-14

The Child

Let the child continue.

Permit him if you please

His idiosyncratic

Peculiarities.

The bowl with the green rim

And Victorian design

He favors for his cereal,

And totally benign.

When he goes to bed
In infinite release,

Allow him freshly washed

His blanket, yellow fleece.

1-19-14

 

Bennett Cerf

Bennett Cerf. When I was growing up,

I thought he was a very pleasant man,

Equitable, fair. I had a hope

For Random House to publish all my poems.

I read its books, collected them. It was

Olympus in the literary world,

The only world I meant to occupy.

I'm 67. Bennett Cerf is gone.

Random House and everything it meant

Is an echo of the way it was.

1-18-13

Rain, Sanctuary

1978

Some paunchy aging generals who danced

Before a lens. The camera projected

Their pictures on an avocado wall.

I couldn't figure out what they were doing

Unless to free them from their inhibitions.

I went to see an orderly I hated.

If I looked, he promised I could leave.

I had looked. He tallied up the score.

He didn't give a damn what I was thinking.

I was a fool who had no motivations.

And so it goes with people in the know.

1-19-14

Poe

Fantasy is not imagination,

Quoth Poe who said a poem should be short,

Express a single feeling, which should be

Sadness. And he said that poetry

Was his passion. Horror comes from grief.

1-19-14

Sanctuary

The mental ward is open.

Take me back.

I finished college.

I've a taste for Bach.

On the ward,

I only sit and stare.

No one takes from me

As I have nothing.

I'm afraid

They'll never let me out.

Innate, a horror

Of captivity.

Off the ward,

There's violence, deceit,

Sex, tattoos

And music that destroys.

My poems have such very pretty covers.

I've four cats,

I've got to stay alive.

1-19-14

 

The Puzzle

He said,

“You didn't hurt me.”

And I said,

“Good. I didn't want to.”

And he said,

“You didn't hurt me.”
“I had no desire.”
He said,

“You didn't hurt me.”
I was totally confused.

I never understood that conversation.

Not bludgeoned in the guise of honesty.

Nor with the knife of truth to make amends.

1-19-14

 

My Father

My father was a very loving man

Twisted and perverted by disease.

Tuberculosis kept him 10 years down.

Was that the reason? Never mind his mother.

His father was my only childhood love.

Raised by parents who were from Kentucky,

He hated blacks – and fagots, which he was.

I think if only once the fool had lifted

His ironic brogan from my face -

Never mind. I didn't like him either.

He had a funny smell. I didn't like it.

When he wasn't mean, he made me laugh.

1-18-14

 

The Words

Tell me, god,

Where do the words come from?
Is this what I would say if I were normal?

Believing people isn't what I do.

I can't. I don't believe.

I see their faces,

Hear their voices.

40 years ago,

That would be enough.

We'd go to bed.

1-18-14

 

The Oyster

My second wind. In the vernacular.

An idiom.

I'm writing once again.

The shell may never crack.

The grain of sand

In the moisture on the oyster's tongue

May turn forever, and forever grow.

Unless I'm not as good as I believe,

The hateful fate of every poetaster.

1-18-14

 

At The Sty

Complacent, fat and arrogant! The cops

Sitting in a giant booth in Denny's,

Chatting, smiling. Jesus Christ is here.

He did come back. And there are 6 of him.

An hour's respite from the world of war -

Killing homeless men, arresting blacks

And wearing shirts in court - “Free Dan White”.

Cops are an authority on justice.

They defend the laws, which are rewritten

Every day. How ever much they change,

They enforce them all with equal vigor.

With iron in their souls and brains of wood,

Cops are very flexible. Well, no.

It simply doesn't matter why they shoot.

1-18-14

 

Rain

The age of authenticity

And genuineness ended

Many many thousand years ago

Before there was a human being born.

How to write a poem? Simply

Work or else have talent.

Labor is contrived and genius glib.

Perhaps a combination? No.

There is no combination.

It comes like rain that trickles

From the gutter round the eaves.

6-18-13

Interview

Ask your stomach. Listen to your heart.

When you wonder what the hell you think.

Love is free. But don't ask Jacqui Schiff

And her little myrmidons and minions.

They will tell you. But it won't be free.

And it won't be right. Construction paper.

Cardboard psyches talk in Eric Berne,

With their halos, thinking they make sense,

Pretending that they understand it all.

With finesse she'll make a person crazy,

And then dismiss him with a stilted letter.

No one in the world owns Jacqui Schiff.

Jacqui Schiff! Don't tell her that you love her

From her writings long before you meet.

Your world will end. And dead worlds don't recover.

Little paper people off their strings

Fall in heaps and tangles on the floor.

No one knots the strings or lifts them up.

1-18-14

If you like my poems, I have books on Amazon, both paper and Kindle.  The paper are mostly $10 or less.  Most Kindles are $1.  To get to them, go to Amazon, click Books on the drop down menu, then type Joseph Hart Poetry in the search bar.

The Trial

Art

I'm concerned with art.

The truth is god's affair.

I don't believe in scientists.

Every century

Another explanation of the earth.

Atom bombs and gadgets

Are what we owe to science,

And inquisitions to the men of god.

3-11-12

 

God

I have a little jingle.

It isn't very odd.

It just occurred to me

Coming back from nod.

God gave me a brain

To prove there is no god.

1-15-14

God exists only in thought


God exists only in thought;
While down in the cellar
And up in the attic
And out in the churchyard
Are spectres at play

Freedom

The human race has killed to have its freedom,

The freedom you are offering to me -

The freedom to play shit in restaurants

And call it music. Europe is effete.

Longhairs do not matter. They are few.

1-17-13

 

GOP

Out the door with science!

It contradicts my faith.

God told me and I'll tell you

That observation fails.

The brain that Jesus gave me

Was never meant to think

Anything but what it's told.

Reason is a myth.

11-23-12

The Trial

Someone crooked took my butt to court

For libel. Every word I wrote occurred.

It happened 37 years ago.

My evidence was in my memory.

“Ass!” she laughed. “You're going down again.

No one thinks psychologists say that.”

“Prove that you are innocent,” I said.

“Prove that I am guilty,” she replied.

She was right. I couldn't make a case.

I spoke. The jury laughed. She only smiled.

And then I took a gun out of my pocket

And shot her head off. This must be the Rapture.

Then before they grabbed me, aimed the gun

At myself. And now she is in hell.

9-19-12

Reflection

Today

New things soon get old.

You try them for a spell,

And then you crave the past

Although it didn't work as well.

Long hairs have their likes,

Not bludgeoned till they're blue

By loud and shallow music.

They're on this planet too.

Once they whistled Verdi.

He pleased the common men.

They crowded into Shakespeare.

The world was smarter then.

1-15-13

 

Ducks

A goon from a show about ducks

Said when a faggot f-cks

He is committing a sin.

I read about the din

His holy words begat.

Who but a brainless Christian

Thinks of that?

Republicans have unremitting ways.

Who cares what any -sshole thinks of gays?

1-15-14

 

TA

Transactional Analysis

Was surely guaranteed

To make a sick man sicker,

And drive the sane to weed.

Catchy little sayings -

As Yankee as they come -

Meant to reach the masses,

And edify the dumb.

1-15-14

 

Reflection

I hope her taste in verse

Does not extend to me.

Ginsberg, Thomas, Whitman

Are her loves in poetry.

She told me I'm a genius,

The ultimate to say.

I hope this doesn't mean that I'm

As terrible as they.

1-15-14

Truths

What good is truth?

It won't make you live

Any longer -

Water through a sieve -

Entertaining -

Something that you read -

Evaporates

In an urgent need.

1-14-14

If you like my poems, I have books and Kindles on Amazon.  The books are mostly $10 or less.  The Kindles mostly $1.  You can find them on Amazon by clicking Books on the drop down menu, and then typing Joseph Hart Poetry in the search bar.

First Impressions

Reflection

I hope her taste in verse

Does not extend to me.

Ginsberg, Thomas, Whitman

Are her loves in poetry.

She told me I'm a genius,

The ultimate to say.

I hope this doesn't mean that I'm

As terrible as they.

1-15-14

 

First Impressions

What a person says when you meet

Is that person's behavior.

Don't expect surprises

Or changes later on.

Sullen, sweet, verbose,

Angry, rude or cold,

That's his disposition,

At least concerning you.

1-15-14

 

Truths

What good is truth?

It won't make you live

Any longer -

Water through a sieve -

Entertaining -

Something that you read -

Evaporates

In an urgent need.

1-14-14

 

On Some Modern Poems

A couple words to constitute a feeling -

Language, said the poet, is concealing.

In this era of frugality,

Unsparing, absolute reality.

To the joy of modern criticisms,

Like heavy make-up, lots of poetisms.

Honesty, but not too much sensation,

And very obvious alliteration.

1-14-14

 

Words

Though I understand it,

I do not agree with him.

Use the words the poet understands.

That's none of them.

That's kindergarten.

Yankees don't know words.

Don't let the words obscure the poetry.

So what the hell is poetry but words?

Yankees want it easy.

Even I don't like to work.

Poetry! The simplest of the arts!

Anyone can write it,

Though the humble have a charm.

Democracy is making love to art.

That means it f-cked it.

The triumph of the bigoted and mindless.

1-14-14

 

Words

My songs are only words -

No pictures or sensations -

Like a silver moon

Above a railway station.

A poem made of sounds -

No poem like a song -

The magic of the music

When the ocean comes along -

Really very tiresome,

Tedious and dull -

Keats composed the kernel -

I indite the hull -

7-22-13

Brave & Splendid

Brave & Splendid

Good men die and bad men are immortal.

My father sneered to think that I was good.

Where's the rage? The anger? Don't I feel?

I try to act the part. I lack aggression.

No feeling comes. But I quit reading Keats.

Desultory! Better verse coheres.

God destroys. And bad men never cry,

Except sometimes. To make the good men feel

There's something more than rank and dusty death.

Shakespeare! And his brave and splendid men!

Worms eat dirt and leave it in the soil.

1-13-14

Eliot

If after Prufrock, Eliot

Had written nothing more

But plays about religion,

And not another verse,

Nothing would be lost to

Yankee/European lit

But a fan club

And a musical.

1-13-14

 

The Nuisance

Freddy is a nuisance.

But he's not the kind of cat

Anyone is angry with.

And if it can be done,

By a cat, he does it.

A nuisance can be loved.

1-13-14

 

Le Petit Yankee

I'm a little Yankee

With a teeny little heart.

I plan to vote republican

To keep the fags apart,

To put a lot of rifles

Into psychopathic hands,

And keep the dirty immigrants

Off my Yankee lands.

America is free -

The place of liberty -

Not for them, for me.

1-13-14

Renaissance

He loves me once again.

He said, “Let's

Sit and reminisce.”

He woke me up.

I fell asleep again.

In the dark at midnight

With the cats.

God help the cats!

Dependent, quiet, loving balls of fur.

What god is this

That cares about its creatures?

Washed away in yesterday's tsunami.

Sufficient for tonight.

It's after midnight.

1-14-14

Songs

I'm in Denny's now. Another

Desultory poem!

I'm the greatest poet

Since Millay, and long before.

Forgotten in the turning of the tide.

Christ! These Yankees love a jungle beat!

They enslaved the black man,

Wrecked his life,

And emulate him.

The lyrics are illiterate

Which every Yankee loves.

Something he at last can understand.

The melody

Is nothing like a song.

Usually female,

And the singer has no voice,

But off the farm

Direct from calling pigs.

1-14-14

 

In Denny's

I look at other poets.

I'm superior to them.

(William Carlos Williams eating plums.)

That's half the pleasure

Just as Heifetz said.

However, I like Perlman

With his violin of milk.

It's midnight. I am crazy.

I'll go home and take a pill.

I am getting serious with people.

But it began with Denny's

Nearly 20 years ago.

Then the day I saw and wanted him.

Not for sex.

So let it atrophy.

But for a friend.

Forgetting Jacqui Schiff.

1-14-14

Sleepy

I fell asleep again.

God damn! He said, “Let's reminisce.”
To sit there in the dark and talk with cats.

Will we come together ever?

Wishing to befriend me,

Or I him,

Will we both be there?

I woke up too sleepy.

Now our penury unites us.

Both of us on medication.

Neither of us works.

His passion is computers.

There is only fame in verse.

Plato said that Sappho

Was the greatest of all poets.

All that's left is just a page of lines.

1-14-14

Words

Though I understand it,

I do not agree with him.

Use the words the poet understands.

That's none of them.

That's kindergarten.

Yankees don't know words.

Don't let the words obscure the poetry.

So what the hell is poetry but words?

Yankees want it easy.

Even I don't like to work.

Poetry! The simplest of the arts!

Anyone can write it,

Though the humble have a charm.

Democracy is making love to art.

That means it f-cked it.

The triumph of the bigoted and mindless.

1-14-14

 

On Some Modern Poems

A couple words to constitute a feeling -

Language, said the poet, is concealing.

In this era of frugality,

Unsparing, absolute reality.

To the joy of modern criticisms,

Like heavy make-up, lots of poetisms.

Honesty, but not too much sensation,

And very obvious alliteration.

1-14-14

Blasphemy

 

Kitty

There's nothing half so irritating

As to be adored

By someone that you wish would go way.

You're angry and exasperated,

Overwhelmed and bored,

And as determined as he is to stay.

A waitress in a coffee shop

Who gives you coffee free -

A cat who after 7 years

Decides that you're a we.

You feel so fucking guilty.

He's just pushed aside, that's all.

He turns and puts his face against the wall.

1-12-14

 

Worlds

There are 40 billion habitable

Earth-size planets

Circling in the massive Milky Way.

This is what the Times disclosed today.

Sagan would be happy,

The middle of his dream,

Countless worlds as more than what they seem.

11-5-13

Blasphemy

I well imagine what would happen if

Someone hollered back at Jacqui Schiff.

They'd throw him in a corner like a ball,

Leave him standing, nose against the wall.

Incarcerate him like a mental case,

And then forget she ever saw his face.

1-12-14

 

Hospitals

Doctors are the kindliest of men.

They will notify the next of kin.

But cash up front or you cannot get in.

1-12-14

 

Ingredients

Of course I have opinions

Which frequently are wrong.

Like any other chanticleer

Standing on the roof,

And fantasies and feelings

To put into a song.

My poesy is serious.

I am just a goof.

The senses are a lot

Deeper than a thought.

1-12-14

Love

Never doubt again that I am loved

Today as he did not the day we met.

Nothing laughs with happiness but love.

Find a man who loves, and you'll be loved

For love, and not for cash or buggery.

Say the word. The sound evokes pretense.

Let it happen. Only kindness speaks.

My heart is settled silent in its crypt,

Content to have a friend. Perhaps he'll stay.

If he doesn't find a better friend,

Or a place where he would rather dwell.

Nothing's endless. Even stars burn out.

1-11-14

If you like my poems, I have some books on Amazon, both paper and Kindle.  The paper are mostly $10 or less.  The Kindles mostly $1.  You can find them on Amazon by clicking Books on the dropdown and typing  Joseph Hart Poetry in the search bar.