Saturday, January 26, 2008

Dirty People! ((a Poem)(Revised))

Dirty People!
(Revised 2-14-2008)

Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! The world is dirty!
The core around the Soul is dirty, dirty, dirty!
The flesh is dirty! As is one's face and eyes!
The tongue and mouth with no hair is dirty!
Hemingway, Faulkner, Tennessee Williams,
Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassidy,
W.S. Burroughs, Peter Orlovsky, Robert LaVigne,
all dirty, writers; and so is Plath and Sexton...!
And many, many, many more—like Allen Garcia
and Hillary Clinton, Castro, Chavez, Morales,
and many, many, many more. (All dirty as Imps,
devils from the abyss.)

The saints on earth are dirty, as around the core
of my Soul! The computer, television, radios are
dirty, with their filth and gore; this poem is all
humility, or perhaps vanity, whatever, it is dirty
also, like ecstasy or encrusted happiness: dirty
(as in lust, envy, aching for?) within this world's
summer of cities.

I walk about, around, in and out, to and fro, inside
this inner city circle, see dirty walls written on;
signs, and dirty cars, and poets all looking for a
lasting name, drenched in pride, dreams and shame,
from San Francisco, to Main, from New York City, to
New Orleans, from India to Egypt; from Lima to
Buenos Aires, from England to Moscow, from Iran, to Saudi
Arabia, and Australia (someday each and everyone
will be famous for a day, and then forgotten for eternity).

Dirty are the cafes of most cities in South and
Central America; with rats and cockroaches:
rivers of brown muck, dirty, dirty like swine, and
they serve the meat, chicken and fish, cow and pig
(muck style, when you dine...) it is all part of your times.

Dirty are the beaches around Lima, and the streets of Huancayo,
and the back allies of Cerro de Pasco, and the basements of
St. Paul, Minnesota, and attics of Minneapolis, and all those
good folks that made it possible: who blames the government
for what they have to do, feel they have to do... blame it on
society, they got broad shoulders: as they do in Lima, Peru,
Buenos Aires, Santiago. It's all in a days work. Ugh! This dirty
earth is filled with awful dirty people. All people who do not
even take time to flush the toilets, eat at fast food cafes,
in Lima, dirty people making happy faces, shameful minds;
dripping with venom talk and walking like peacocks.
I see, everyday, the dirty people walking, drinking rot-gut
alcohol, dope, marijuana, but no, not all, some are in this very
coffee shop, drinking this very coffee, same coffee as me,
I hope they washed the cups, I hope, I hope, I get sick
so easily. I'm in here almost every day, I wonder,
I really wonder, if anyone but me, can see the angel nearby;
not one, not even one person, is watching him,
he just turned aside. He has a silent smile, he whispered
something…"God loves you!, you’re His child!"

#2188 1-25-2008

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