ANOTHER TIME (Scattered Poems 1971 to 1978) by Klaus J. Gerken (1978) I another time i might have spoken but not this time: throat run dry dilapidated, vinegar, and stale. once before like a mason's dream to build a mansion height atop the Himalayas, near the edge of sky and touch upon the animation of a god i built a dream stood more fantastic than anything before but, alas, no more. the day was spent rehearsing for a certitude; the rehearsal of those whispered words all done in perfection of a victor's stance. yet, only now, labouring the feathered smoke of cigarettes, ashes tossed upon the floor as if a life to dust was laid yet barely missed, as, gladly i abort whatever protocol my mind has laboured at... now there's only this, that time's a sentence in the vitiated structure of an uncut paragraph, ever flowing tide less on towards a vast traumatic plot exquisite in the annals of some personal history... and i? i... the pawn, who, when his duty's struck the hour. when the need to thirst after passion, pain and lust and life 's no longer there, is cast into the pit succumb to loneliness and greed and in the hour of our need? june 1971 II Perplexed, the wind beat our teeth like rocks, against each other, shivering in the admonished cold. Frozen long, we went inside, discussing ancient things, of how the elephants survived in bringing Hannibal to Rome... or how the old and broken poet Cavafy walked, discoursing with the ancient streets of Alexandria. - Of how the blind sage Homer came to write the Odyssey and how a million other things were done that now, the end of silence near, have been erased from all the earth. - "The quest for silence come acute" he said. I answered thus: "And so it has to be - the price that we must pay..." - "Ah so it is" and taking up our glasses chimed a toast to the silence lost, and future years, strands that vanish like the azure sky that once obscured infinity... 2 Feb 1973 III I stand aloft from everything mortal - the oceans and infinity are my guides Soft, soft the voices carry me towards the hub of inactivity (to move, disturbing silence seems obsequious the sprawling nemesis of life's uncertainty) Listen, forever we have been - if forever we will be i cannot say - but matters only mean as much as rivers flood the sea - as mortals, you and I, crumble neath death's certainty. 6 April 1973 IV What reasoning is this that has befallen you? You stand there at the edge of nowhere contemplating the calm serenity of life. Long ago I did this also and fallen into stupor over how the scene might fit my words. But alas, it never did... Yet even without words it gave me cause to be a poet. Why? Listen... Do you not hear? Hear what? The silence of the void. The infinite, that which is our mead. Once you understand, there is no need... oct 73 V Hush, not a word spoken let the fervent waters come and whisper their gypsy moods - Ourselves are cast asunder born beneath a dying star in Hades. Listen now, a black crow for black moods. Restless; doors open, close. Smoke disperses in the sky - sunlight sings Van Goth. Quite by accident we find... Come; selfish bask upon the shore - Women tear their eyes and hair - The universe incomprehends itself - (Nothing we can understand - to try? what folly... fail.) Hush, let the fervent waters come and carry us away. Freedom only comes to those who do not know the way. 26 jan 74 VI The conquering of things unconquerable. Three dead and twisted trees out in the meadow. Mist obscures their ground. - One has a feeling they are ghosts, wandering aimlessly. How to cling to what is gone for them! feb 74 VII I Snow descendeth; apprehendeth thus we are of what might be. as snow descendet and no path leadeth here nor there nor anywhere II Days we loseth mind peruseth misery nothing to see days we loseth and no path leadeth... etc III Sadness heaveth mind possesseth apart we are never free. sadness heaveth and no path leadeth... etc IV Foul wind bloweth this we knoweth my lady hath gone from me. foul wind bloweth and no path leadeth... etc V Would God letteth snow abateth and let lovely sun shine freely. Would god letteth but no path leadeth... etc VI This I sayeth thought relayet I to thee the world to me. this I sayeth no path leadeth... etc VII I who suffereth Cold that murdereth would you be here with me! I who suffereth that no path leadeth here nor there nor anywhere! 20 jan 76 VIII we are sitting in an outdoor cafe at the corner of some unknown street we watch the tourists pass in this forgotten land the sky is clear and very bright but thunder roars as if insane the beer is cold but slightly stale a car limps down these cobblestones a symphony to modern age we turn another page we tear this one in half we think how difficult it is for us to laugh with tears of helium while holding on or letting go or thinking that we really know this age that really is the modern past the wind explodes "it cannot last it will not last" and quite by accident a shattered glass... aug 77 IX the ultimate romantic act is to commit suicide and who if anyone obsessed with the notion of romanticism is prepared to make the final sacrifice in light of living one more day to greet a new horizon? 26 june 1978 X it is very late at night the walls rattle with a silent each frightening music no one understands it is apprehension marking the universe with every breath the atoms shatter and change within a constant flux expanding and contracting never to have a foothold on anything knowing the unknowable the wisdom of a fool it is very late at night and shadows move within the darkness a hand reaches out towards the light the pull of gravity so terrible is it the freedman who escapes the prisoner or the prisoner who escapes his freedom 30 june 1978 XI im laughing im laughing because im drunk im laughing because the musics so sad im laughing because its all so silly im laughing because theres a poem that got published in my high school yearbook when i was about 16 im laughing because it was so stupid because they had no idea what it was about and still published it well it was about them and they took it all so seriously and i hid behind my telescope and zeroed in 1 july 78 XII these poems are sketches waiting for a canvas 1 july 78 XIII WATER ~~~~~~ there's a motion of commotion not the motion of the motion of itself but the motion of its stillness that precludes the ending of its true beginning through a violent nature it forms the basis for an a priori insignificance that dear old kant gave away the foothold of his life to prove yet his words rolled endlessly from his pen to gain a single point that needed little thought all he had to say "IT IS" and every atom would have been in place still it wasn't the time nor place for that sort of thing (the method still was everything) so the motion halts through blind philosophers with each single person searching for the truth there beneath you feet "IT IS" XIV ENVOI ~~~~~ so read of this a hundred megre words that dream again of life and live again for love remember soft that sifting sands must cover monuments and monuments are all that's left of mortal dreams in shadows of the realm of memories (so giving this to be remembrance i drink the waters taste of salt and take my share of time upon my back that when i do what i have done i know that i have done my best. 1972 Copyright (c) 1978/2002 Klaus J. Gerken