tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9814472773285766202024-02-08T11:30:46.749-06:00the ghost in the dumpsterAnd just where is it beauty hides, and truth amid dishonesty? One never knows. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So this is the pen (the enclosure) for my most recent poems and poemoids. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 2009-04-20 -- Brian A. J. Salchertbrian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-48855812091260667662009-08-03T16:23:00.001-05:002009-08-03T16:24:31.356-05:00Presage of Afterlife<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
On a boulevard island a small tree
above whose leaves a central antenna stick
alive by one crow.
tg00038
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-75267321610266559432009-07-16T20:53:00.001-05:002009-07-16T20:55:26.683-05:00Just Wondering<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
or
<i>Why Wars Will Never End</i>
My bowels are acting weird today
like they're getting rid of everything
they don't want because they're moving.
You can never tell about such things.
Maybe they're waiting for me to
order them to go to sleep,
not that they would care.
Isn't this information just what
you've been waiting for? Waiting?
My bowels aren't waiting for anything.
I mean, garbage in / garbage out, you know.
Say, what do you make of five carrots
and one tangerine? Or a crust of bread
and a can of 3.75 ounces of sardines?
tg00037
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-36265713309933616652009-07-08T22:00:00.003-05:002009-07-09T08:10:57.530-05:00A Life Litany<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
<i>version 1</i>
Born in the cold
at the foot of a lake
in a city of doubt
as a boy.
At war with my genes
and my brain and my heart,
betrothed to the wind
as a boy.
And so I declaimed
from the kitchen tabletop,
debating my dad
as a boy.
And slowly I grew
enfolded in loves
I could not understand
as a boy.
The piano was large
and my fingers too short
with measles my out
as a boy.
My dad I am sure
hoped/ I would replace
the son they had lost
as a boy.
But it wasn't to be
for all I did learn,
enthralled by my dreams
as a boy.
Yet in scouting I climbed,
though not as in trees,
to a safe second class
as a boy.
My lungs were too weak
to allow me to swim
a mere fifty yards
as a boy.
Toward the arts and the crafts
and the skies and the stars
it was I was pulled
as a boy.
So I dabbled with oils
and the soundings of words,
and birds, beasts, rocks, plants
as a boy.
Around year twelve I came
to a truth unprepared,
a shock of adieu
as a boy.
Though I changed, I did not
with the pleasure I hid:
in confusion remained
as a boy.
Years earlier, away
on my trike, I chose risk:
broke nose; skewed collar bone
as a boy.
And still to this day,
though I'm now sixty-eight,
I work, rest, pray, play
as a boy.
<i>2009/06/08</i>
tg00036
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-80401527865577140952009-06-15T19:35:00.001-05:002009-06-15T19:35:30.697-05:00Petition<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Come to me
hidden word,
hidden word,
hidden word.
Come to me
hunted word,
hunted word,
hunted word.
Come to me
hinted word,
hinted word,
hinted word.
Come to me
haunted word,
haunted word,
haunted word.
Come to me
hardy word,
hardy word,
hardy word.
Come to me
harbored word,
harbored word,
harbored word.
Come to me
hardened word,
hardened word,
hardened word.
Come to me
harping word,
harping word,
harping word.
Come to me
hellish word,
hellish word,
hellish word.
Come to me
heaven word,
heaven word,
heaven word.
Come to me
happy word,
happy word,
happy word.
Come to me
hungry word,
hungry word,
hungry word.
Come to me
humble word,
humble word,
humble word.
Come to me
holy word,
holy word,
holy word,
holy word, holy word, holy word, holy word,
holy word, holy word, holy word, holy word.
tg00035
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-58157976650559652062009-06-07T09:35:00.002-05:002009-06-07T09:37:18.230-05:00Harsh Wind<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Yet facing it
atop a graveyard's tallest tree:
three crows.
tg00034
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-70254109961160999932009-06-05T17:22:00.001-05:002009-06-05T17:24:17.109-05:00Rhetorical<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Crow, crow, where dost thou go
over valleys far and wide?
Caw caw caw caw caw.
tg00033
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-91514977493837049822009-06-04T11:34:00.002-05:002009-06-04T11:35:11.372-05:00Ah Uh Oh<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Where ducks waddle
water puddles
aficionados.
tg00032
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-11858548816514839412009-06-02T20:25:00.001-05:002009-06-02T20:26:17.155-05:00Jig<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Come oh day oh comfort me
as we float beneath the sea
wondering what we can be
swaying with anemone
Come oh night oh comfort me
as we float above the sea
wondering what we can be
in auroral mystery
Come oh Being comfort me
as we float through history
wondering what we can be
dancing round each thing we see
Come oh word oh come oh song
measuring the time along
what went right and what went wrong
in the whorls where we belong
Masqueraders on parade
trapped inside the things we've made
gesturing towards light and shade
so our lives go on.
tg00031
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-30527994055300048692009-05-27T20:23:00.001-05:002009-05-27T20:27:34.403-05:00About and About<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
My whole life, Lord. My whole life.
. . .
. . .
It's amazing I've accomplished
what I have accomplished:
I, so often on edge.
Before me is a poem:
maybe seven/ versions of it.
I do not like any of them.
And yet, I want to
salvage it. . . . Why?
. . .
Such highs and lows today.
Earlier, spurred by what
I had been reading,
I drifted into wondering
if there is such a thing
as a perfect poem,
if it even matters--the words
in it, and their order--
given that the constant changes
in authors and audiences
inevitably change whatever
symbols constitute an artifact.
Oh, <i>O Westron Wind</i>
came to me as a candidate
for acceptable perfection,
and of course similar others
pass through shadows about and
about, their pleasures pleasing.
Still, none is perfect,
and it seems to me
near perfection resonates
with a more lasting force.
So, what's to be done? As I forgive,
forgive the sins of Brian (Baj).
tg00030
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-31171665083474640472009-04-22T21:59:00.002-05:002009-04-22T22:01:21.620-05:00Intro It<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Diverge diverge
said the demiurge
for I am a scourge
you cannot destroy.
Deploy enjoy
said the alter-Troy
for I am a buoy
you cannot submerge.
<i>Perhaps, if we coax
all the poetry schools
of I and of anti-I
to the seas and oceans
of what and why,
we can bring those bodies
renewals of life
amid the bells of our notions
set adance by whooeys and phooeys,
and bury our hoax.</i>
[ Note: the above is not against anyone,
and is somewhat obscure on purpose. ]
tg00029
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-28414491361263900302009-04-03T10:22:00.001-05:002009-04-03T10:23:13.542-05:00Have a Good Ride<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
I got what I got
and you got what you got
and I dont give
a flirting snot
for what you got
and you dont give
a leaky clot
for what I got
so I hope you
are satisfied
even though
Im not.
tg00028
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-75869865289093238962009-03-15T19:06:00.001-05:002009-03-15T19:09:15.903-05:00Do You Know Where Kyph Is?<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
He left me many years ago.
Sometimes I'm glad he did.
He left me many years ago.
I don't know where he is.
He left me many years ago.
He's made no contact since.
He left me many years ago.
Perhaps he's not alive.
He left me many years ago.
Our love just wasn't right.
He left me many years ago.
The stars still shine and turn.
He left me many years ago.
He let me keep our house.
He left me many years ago.
He gave me wealth for ten.
He left me many years ago.
Buds were on the boughs.
He left me many years ago.
He walked up that blank road.
He left me many years ago.
I've told you all I know.
tg00027
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-60716134657068360302009-03-13T21:40:00.001-05:002009-03-13T21:41:23.746-05:00Hunting<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Bring it home,
bring it home, bring it
home, Haiku.
-
[ the above is a short-form haiku ]
tg00026
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-71610539374973834562009-03-08T21:22:00.003-05:002009-03-13T21:36:40.188-05:00He Who<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
[ an instrumental melody ]
he who he-who he-who
he who he-who he-who
he who he-who he-who who
[ words to be spoken ]
And Jesus said: Let he who is
without sin cast the first stone.
[ repeat instrumental melody ]
[ words to be spoken ]
But humans are not perfect beings,
and those who have the ability to reason
must deal with conflicts: inner outer,
for none is without sin.
[ repeat instrumental melody ]
tg00025
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-10425523757457482062009-03-05T09:23:00.001-06:002009-03-05T09:24:32.659-06:00As I Am<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
Above me play
clouds of heaven
while gusts of
weathers buffet
and from my waist
the long loops
of bags of hell.
tg00024
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-42889936280939237042009-03-02T22:45:00.002-06:002009-03-02T22:47:51.481-06:00Zenopoli<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
We have been observing your planet since
its earliest days, we, from Zenopoli,
a planet which orbits a similar star
on the presently far side of Andromeda,
the name you have given our galaxy,
a name we favor, and so have adopted.
It is none of our business, but you need
to change the name you have given your
galaxy. Milky Way is way too cloying.
Do you stand aghast? Be not afraid.
You could have been as immortal as we.
We have long hoped you would discover
how, but you have chosen paths leading
to your extinction, and are now beyond
saving. We could change that, but our
federation prohibits us from formative
interventions. So: <i>Why are we here?</i>
We are here to let you know that once
your planet has rid itself of you, we
intend to revitalize and colonize it.
Sound like a plan?
tg00023
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-77398784530885018292009-02-27T10:00:00.001-06:002009-02-27T10:00:20.957-06:00Upon<pre><font face=Courier size=3><p>
Thinking of Reading Silliman's <b>The Alphabet</b>
A is for apples and aunties and ants
and/ anagrams and asteroid at bats.
B is for baseball and butter and blues
and/ barometers and beddie-bye croons.
C is for curry and children and chives
and/ cinnamon and choo-choo dyes.
tg00022
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-57407119937401314332009-02-13T21:06:00.002-06:002009-02-13T21:07:20.398-06:00baj<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
(new nickname for me from me)
baj baj baj baj baj
think i'm gonna live in a garage
shadows can be my entourage
baj baj baj baj baj
tg00021
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-10873502219111342092009-01-12T23:30:00.002-06:002009-01-12T23:33:59.524-06:00In Spiritu<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
<i>In Spiritu</i>
Where are the Gods of Gaza?
How is it they who made so much of,
and rightly so, what they called
The Holocaust, have now become
the new not-sees? If it truly is
a matter of kill or be killed,
we (the whole human race) all
are doomed. Take my body. Take
my spirit. The dead will rise
to the condemnation of the living.
You can stuff your Old Testament
sanctionings in Gehenna. Have
you not seen the workings of the
Holy Spirit? Have you not read
how the Love between the Father
and the Son has led us away, and
continues to lead us away from
fire and brimstone? We all say,
who believe, that Abraham is our
earthly father. Abel and Cain were
from Adam, not from Abraham.
I know. I too find many things
hard to assimilate, but you do
not even need to be a believer
in a Supreme Being. You just
need to believe in humanity,
in its sacredness. All those
who favor war need to be moved
to the moon, or better yet,
Mars, so the rest of us can--
and the ghost in the dumpster,
like a mirage, faded in and
faded out; and the best that
was / the best that could be
swirled beyond all understanding
night after night, day after day.
tg00020
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-91401045052894445322009-01-06T14:37:00.001-06:002009-01-06T14:38:04.501-06:00ditty based on nursery rhyme<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
[ Note: The following ditty is not new,
but I have revised it a touch;
and, "Mary" could be any name. ]
<i>Goat</i>
Mary had a little goat.
She used to grab it by the throat.
But when the goat grew big and strong,
Mary left the goat alone.
And then one day the old goat died.
Poor Mary, she was mystified.
tg00019
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-53035972731920974852008-12-21T14:46:00.002-06:002008-12-21T14:47:56.579-06:00Kitt Mountain Meteorite<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
because it hit
and blew a pit,
that slash of light
across the night
*
tg00018
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-30281514478724168422008-12-16T22:05:00.001-06:002008-12-16T22:07:37.222-06:00128<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
-
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower eat a flower
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
then you will die then you will die then you will die then you will know
-
tg00017
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-71669319852973480932008-12-09T12:12:00.002-06:002008-12-09T12:15:26.348-06:00That Said<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
What the hell was that?
I could've sworn . . . that rat.
I'm gonna strangle
that Said.
He/she is everywhere.
Even the neighbor lady,
after rattling her tongue
for seven minutes,
finally stopped and said:
That said.
Damn That said.
Somebody got a shed?
Okay That said,
you come with me.
We're goin out back
to Muggerbee's shed
and I'm gonna
lock you in
and you better not yell
THAT SAID THAT SAID THAT SAID THAT SAID
THAT SAID THAT SAID THAT SAID
THAT SAID THAT SAID
THAT SAID
Good--
seems things are quiet now.
Maybe
he/she's dead.
You heard what I said.
</font><font face=Verdana size=4>
THAT SAID
</font><font face=Verdana size=2>
-
tg00016
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-31687096599918584012008-12-01T20:51:00.002-06:002008-12-01T20:59:35.864-06:00tg00015<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
<b>17³</b>
# One [ There may never be a # Two. ]
1 First seven primes: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17.
2 2 times 2 equals 4; 4 minus 1 equals 3, and plus 1/ 5.
3 3 is the sole prime number in the natural number summation sequence.
4 Excluding zero, the nnss consists of odd/even pairs.
5 First four: 1 3 | 6 10 | 15 21 | 28 36.
6 Each nnss pair is a set whose terms sum to an even square.
7 Excluding 1, multiples of 4 minus/plus 1 net odd numbers.
8 Let multiples of 4 be column 2 in a 3-column table.
9 For this table/ use the information found in the above two lines.
10 NB: 1 plus (8 times an nnss term) equals an odd square.
11 The final-digit set for column 1 is: 3 7 1 5 9.
12 The final-digit set for column 3 is: 5 9 3 7 1.
13 Between 3 times 3 and 5 times 5 in column 3 are three numbers.
14 An integer greater than 5 whose final digit is 5? Skip it.
15 Numerologically sums to 3, 6, 9? 3 eliminates.
16 14 rules 7 in 70-apart cycles: Make example.
17 Have know-ware to go, but am not sure how to share; yet searchings sustain.
#
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-981447277328576620.post-11012291334495114432008-11-28T09:45:00.005-06:002008-11-28T09:52:44.902-06:00What Is Is<pre><font face=Verdana size=2><p>
<i>(and I'm not even worth that)</i>
Did I not do what I did.
Did I not.
Did I not do what I did.
Did I not.
Yes I did do what I did.
Yes I did.
Yes I did do what I did.
Yes I did.
So what what what what
<i>should</i> I have done?
So what what what what
<i>did</i> I assume?
So how how how how
<i>could</i> I have won?
So how how how how
<i>can</i> I resume?
-
tg00014
</p></font></pre>brian (baj) salcherthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11649691450577647656noreply@blogger.com2