ARCHEOLOGY by Klaus J. Gerken 1993 Archeology Coy, the princess confessed: Sexual pleasure is a cold stone No one comes to sit upon. Dynasty is a hot inclement weather Decaying generation upon generation. Crisis develops when a woman in menses draws the cast of wine to her And turns it into to vinegar. Princes never agree; But some of them show promise. The seven proverbs are like wind; Never turning back: A great river running to the ocean - Forgotten millions drown. 1/09/93 Your hands are like a corona Your hands are like the fingers of a shadow begging us to forth-come in a dissolution Merging the memories we feel abortive on a canvas running paint into the paint A brief case of solution. What is it we were talking about? Electrons stripped of meaning... 14/09/93 the voices come the voices come the voices come the voices come. 20/09/93 Stone Abundant stone Pebbles Rocks Mountains In this solitude Solidify Solidify The meanings of society Society Without the damage done. 2/10/93 You don't know me I don't know you Sex I know you You know me Divorce Against the wall We hug each other Death. 2/10/93 Between death and shadow is divide. Between life and breath is where holiness resides. It's a flavoured principle that hides In the crevices of a fluctuating mind. And there is a voice in Christ, Agnostic, cries in kind, Like a ringing telephone you want to thrash; Like a lover's ring you want to mash In a super conducting Atom smasher, And smoke like hash. A hippy haven somewhere You have almost but never quite regained. But it's nothing. You slide the mouse Across a blue pad. You slide the mouse And gain a glimpse of cybernetic space. It isn't quite reality, but you accept it anyway. 2/10/93 Wass soll ich sagen? Ich bin nicht mehr Deutsch. Ich bin like an exile In mein zimmer - (Die voegel singen frei) And I am not a murderer But a voice embedded in the concrete Of my past. I am a graphite prisoner Carved upon the ethic Of my mortal insecurity. (Break my bones) Somewhere beyond the bars of mein zimmer I see what was never really Clear to me... Finally Myself... 5/10/93 Actually there is this arrangement: The universe intrudes And I obstruct - Being human, fortitude no longer lingers - There is just a group of friends and a few CDs and books I care about - But you ask about the poems. Well the poems live forever By themselves. And if no one reads them? They die as well as martyr to a cause. Screaming. 5/10/93 You vanish completely Then you reappear I get drunk Cut off an ear For fear Must not collect Old dust... 5/10/93 What do I look like? I look like An apple. A MacIntosh - flavoured Like a peach. I realistically quite evolve Into a spiral partnership: parsnips, lentils And a ghost-painted finger up my nose. But the noise was another repellant. Not a boast. I drink forever vintage wine of harmony. (Ghost upon the rack - paper mache princesses) We are quite a solid empire: Poetry Prefers to evolve. Raw emotion. Half naked. Mad. Gathered in a cauldron - black. Klaus Gerken 5/10/93 The Suicide There was no help when I died No one cared I was young But did not look like them Did not think like them Wasn't any near The frozen wasted purpose They purported to be. I died like a lamb at slaughter It was a religious duty I was like Samson destroying their and my own temple They could never have ignored it It was too important To their useless imbecilic Lives - But I was crying when the first stone Crushed the temple of my lung - I was bleeding song - I was bleeding song So long Papa, Mama So long Colleagues, Lovers So long And most of all So long Songs No one ever knew. 6/10/93 There is the bee within the tree of mirth There's the elocution in the hour of birth There's the vitriolic passion we cannot control There's a void where nothing is as now we know There's a heaven where the wounded crawl Where they at least expect the worship None of them required when alive. It's OK - Hero's never falsely will abandon ship. And the solid wall explodes purpose That the poets all refuse in absolution. It holds the future prophets in respect By posting hollow resolutions... It provides an alley for the beggar... It's a dagger, dagger, dagger - 6/10/93 There's a full-scale battle going on In the hollow of my tooth - It screams, it prods, it dull-defiantly explodes - But it's the essence of my life. It tell me that the essence of my body Knows the purpose of it's job - It exists - Life exists - Each separate part of my body exists - I am not a single entity I am many entities together Each having their own purpose - And each knowing their own purpose And each others purpose - And the Universe is also such A greater part of all the lesser entities Together... And I am just an atom's breath in all of this This greater part I know of But can never comprehend... 8/10/93 When the order of life fills with dreaming And the voices of thunder collect a demeaning; When the wine of redemption reflects a contention, The Argus expires, the waves fill with fire And the satellite harmony touches our dreams. When the shadows of 'frugal' dare defy meaning When the bright light of 'flavours' dusks the wind streaming, The catacombs conquer, the desire-destined bunker, Where the fire blazes freely, and the might touches earthy Where the subtle explosion touches our dreams. Felt like a cavern, chilly and wild The wind hollow heirlooms, like a desperate child And I, dreaming, wonder, where have you been this long, Where have you gathered slowly, where have you gathered song? 15/10/93 Oh do not disparage me of this! The volatile solution - the kiss! A steamy part of love's endeavours - The voices in the pillow - but ever Tremble oh this softly - The snowy snowy snowy arbor Belongs to us - this harbour! 15/10/93 Do holy. The garbage falsifies. Facilitate no meaning When there is no promise. Master no solution When solution argues death. 15/10/93 All Poems Copyright (c) 1993 Klaus J. Gerken Published by Ygdrasil Press