Shufflin' around this lousy town
I mixed with free radicals and crazies
left my dna in all the wrong places
Mother scolded me about the black
guys I liked, she warned me
mulatto kids have a very hard time
I strummed my guitar in the park
then played opposite Bonnie Raitt
asked her for a Kool and just saved it
Shy to the max and passive
Lots of guys had me and a few women
fancied me when I drank with them
One wrapped me up in her long red hair
made me sing like Bessie Smith
then winked, diss'n me 'til I kissed her
We'd sit in one of those throwaway bars
pretendin' to be older divas and dons
only to be thrown out for being loud
It was disco, Sartre and Frisco
It was dreaming of getting out
but it was not knowing how
Smokin' the last of the grass
we'd lie in the van, sweaty and hard
six legs and six arms interlocked
By summer I was a boy:
Lake Chagogagog was muddy and warm
I swam everyday, cut my hair short
then hitchhiked to Boston
It was a much bigger ride there
It was too big and I missed my friends
As the seasons changed
and the chill kept coming in
I mailed myself back to Webster
Over and over again
Over and over again
Over and over again
great to see you having your own blog Laura!
RépondreSupprimerHey Laura,
RépondreSupprimerI loved this. Were you going to Amherst or UMass Amhesrt?
Brought back wonderful, wonderful days.
Great poeme, Mlle Laura.
I do think the font is very small.
Whew.. Laura.
RépondreSupprimerThis poem is more of a song than a piece of poetry ; there's a touch of Andy Warhol and Allen Ginsberg, and the beatniks and...
Thanks for sharing.
Will keep peeking in here, for sure. Good luck with blogging.
Cheerz!
Max
A lovely poem, Laura. And so glad to see you've got this blog going. I"m going to put it in as a link in my blog
RépondreSupprimerthank you to everyone for your kind comments and support. actually, i was only 15 yrs old that year, kathryn. the last of the "hippie" days... xoxoxox ~lt
RépondreSupprimerthank you, ed. i appreciate that! also, i did make the font larger; that was an important suggestion, kathryn. xoxoxox
RépondreSupprimerI think you are feeling great having your own blog.This poem reminded me of a period in my life ( many years ago) when I was quite a rebel myself.
RépondreSupprimerThank you for inviting me here.
Good luck!
I love your poem, perhaps as much as I once loved Bonnie R. Oh the memories you tap....
RépondreSupprimergod, thanks, ron. that's a helluva compliment. we shared a wonderful time before we lost our innocence. hugs and kisses ~lt
RépondreSupprimerune capture vive d'une ère que j'ai vécu par délégué ainsi de beaucoup de fois et aurait donné n'importe quoi être réellement là !
RépondreSupprimerI'm glad you have a blog, too! I'll add you to my links list.
RépondreSupprimerCourageous Laura, dear...
RépondreSupprimerLike a room of own's own, having a blog.
Your work here is a celebration of yourself in pure Laura style.
Kudos to you!
actually, i've been thinking about it, barbary, and i think this poem is a direct result of reading your "estuary". there is a lot of material lurking in one's own stories! ty, barb. you are a true friend and an inspiration. xoxoxox
RépondreSupprimerLove the poems, Laura. Very evocative, and then to leave a commentaire!
RépondreSupprimerA sweeping bildungsroman that gathers in the rollicking adventures and mishaps of a sensitive artistic soul forging herself into a poet through experience, delivered in a surprisingly immediate argot that reveals the countercultural shifts and turns of her zeitgeist.
RépondreSupprimerI really enjoyed this, Laura.
This poem contains great lyrical rhythm, Laura.
RépondreSupprimerYeah, sounds like a sound with shades of feat and loathing mixed with On the Road. Cool.
RépondreSupprimerBy the way I've been writing down the word verificiations for possible use in stories and poems.
Speaking of poems, visit me at http://marysreading.blogspot.com/ or at http://halfformed.blogspot.com/ (or even at http://nopolar.blogspot.com/) for poems.
That should say fear and loathing a la Hunter S Thompson, oops sorry
RépondreSupprimerthanks so much, mary lol. i will definitely check out those poems! à bientôt, je suis sûre. xoxoxo
RépondreSupprimerI like that you examine the "what is the meaning of this thing called life" in your poem. So much stuff happens in life, and for a lot of us, we have to start processing it at a very young age. Great poem.
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