KILLING FIELD by Klaus J. Gerken I I'd like to kill It's superstition It's the arc in Ethiopia It's the violent solution It's the drive in some fool car It's the virgin that keeps poetry Hidden in her heart It's all, I think, a waste of time It's all a shuff-e-ling of parts I want to kill I feel it in my heart The meadow saunters in the wind And the violets are torn In retribution for the war Which war? It can't go on. I side with this indifference knowing that indifference Is nothing but a wasted heart. I want to fill my boots I want to laugh but fire embraces agony - I said that, but i guess too long ago to have an impact now I'm just a frozen monument I'm desperate for the glow Of silence that a poet gets When sacrificing his own heart. I paint a foremost train apart Apache in my soul and German in a plastic heart. I gather no incertitude Know me but stay very much apart I have no lovers but alright I live a hermit and I love my life I form a presence on a BBS I'm single and I run away - not from self But from the ones who some are the able And can face another day. I read my letters only once I find the truth just glows like fonts upon a black computer screen I hopelessly demean myself and others Do not simply tar my feathers I vanish but I vanish not I sink my teeth in a marble god- dess... did I shock? - but I did not I revolutionize this poetry But you don't understand You cannot understand this faded provincial's story. I wore my heart upon the scone of silence I wrote the song of desperate transfusion I sprouted trans atlantic wings I went to the azores and I bathed in the blue waves I met sir galahad and I spoke to him of what went wrong and why he fell in love with the kings poor daughter oh god, i mean, the kings pure love... I was respectful of his unknown age he shuffled round in silence and headed for a bar. I met my cinderella with violets of hope Einstein blew a trumpet and Dylan met the Pope It wasn't like a trip into the Paranoias It wasn't like a coffee without sugar It wasn't silent musings in an alley from afar It was rather difficult and if i was amazed don't blame it on the master, blame it on the hope I had for this disaster...know me...i would know you I was wind to your fine plaster We were never masons We never really knew what the two of us were after. I drank my Chateau Magdalene a simple wine of no illusion in a transcendental organ transplant I went to what the beatles moved into the foam of masturbated silence, i was moved..i wasn't that alone I fed the coal to stoves i knew kept lovers warm in bed I was stunted by the confused element I heard my parents crying in a raging argument I saw the light disperse that violence...i'd shout please quit please you cannot offer grief upon a silver platter...and as saint John was baptized I knew he was a thief... I prayed to Jesus' suffering...I sprouted on the cross a rose no one had wanted a final silver floss upon a staid arrangement where monks voided love of any type emotion...a level i could not gather from the fragments...this was war...not loss. I slowly sank the quicksand into books obscure I noted an arrangement...I guess i was too pure to be the evil ending god had had in mind I had hope from the beginning I guess this fool was just a fool too elemental too be blind. I want to rest...arrest the hope that there is something other than what is or seems to be this apparent. I want to wear no, but, I still wear gloves. Perhaps I'm over sensitive. I regulate my life awake at 5 a.m. I conquer an emotion. I wear the eagle crown That no one wanted but I wished to capture. I dance alone in somewhat of a forest I dance beneath the burning trees and find myself in chambers no one dare to come Into the dark intrinsic elements that touched what we have misconstrued as life... I ponder what you have to offer...I ponder what i sought to give...I give nothing and you give nothing...yet still the two of us so different manage to cohabitate this planetoid and this dimension...both manage still to somewhat live until... You were offered up my heart as goddess and I made your clay my fool I suffered in this poem you suffered in the doll I would not have murdered darkly You shook into my brain I vanished incompletely like my poison you remain I want to kill...not surely I want to somehow here remain Regaining what I lost in you Regaining confidence and hope I have no other offering This poem is my only scope I want to kill and make you live I want to kill myself and make you live Without me. How's that for this poor fool on dope? II The killers lost everything the power and the message the sex and the appeal the purpose and the magic the indifference and the feel I don't know just how to phrase it I was mad before my time] I sank my teeth in music a mariachi rhyme I couldn't poison god i said i poisoned what was mine instead i poisoned those who left before my dispersed time I voted for indifference I voted for your rhyme Love me if you think tomorrow is today love me for the memory you sent so far away I was poisoned by your beauty I was equal (i would say) but you were something other than a purposefully rash that day I wasted time in no one's bar I wasted time in mine The Major thought I was a drunken fool but the supervisor knew I was in school I blasted through this nightmare I fooled the silent dogs I knew that Leonard Cohen Was the perfect match of any woman i had dealt the touch of love that was intransigent like the flutter of a butterfly and the melting of a dove I photographed indifference and mortified the touch that masterminded gentleness in a perfect absolution in a perfect form of the redress we wore when men were women before we knew women were men I stood upon the saddle I motioned at the sky I cusped a hand to what the way would offer children who suckled nothing not a hair of constipated dynamite And yes I know The ark is in a shadow where wolves confess I couldn't as a number harbour a prominent ultimatum that they wanted for redress a perfect dolled illusion a, perfectly constructed mess. I said I knew the shadow I worked for the appeal I made the message perfect I said that I would steal but no one thin they caught me I drank my wine like blood I found the carousel too real Miriam and the monk I am took a shallow desperate lukewarm bath. We passionately formed a cryptic coven and sprinkled the apartment with cold blood talked to silence and made love. Apart from that... nothing. Absolutely nothing had the feel of anything more collective than was real. I shuffled on the sidewalk, waiting for the bus. I managed to accept you Even though you tried too hard to be the boss. I wiped the wild wind from my eyes and stood upon a rock I covered it with almond dust and thanked the priest. I looked between the mountains for the manna and the fish Moses spoke of violence and Jesus killed the dove. I don't want either one of them. I'm a pagan then, what of't ? I jackknife in the alley Jerusalem was fine The jewelry was tarnished and they offered bitter wine i wept beside the river and led the captive down into the shadows quiver and buried him alive beneath the mighty alter of Abraham and God both a bitter failure like robbers should be shot I drank my coffee freely I took some time off work I froze you connected I didn't have the time I raged and raged against it The voice was just too smooth I didn't have the wisdom Nor did I have the proof I consulted my own atlas and remembered where it was was it where they told us or was it where it's not I shouted to the window your diamond is a breath of carbon...do remember what each of us has left I consulted a magician who didn't have the answer for those who were this cursed I entered trough the darkness of the holies of the whole I studied a geometry That no one else thought real I was in the company of giants Of Newton and of Monk I was one of those who gathered The poison through and through But this poison does not kill you This poison robs you blind I gathered no commitment I lived my life alone I was shadowed by the future And the past I had not known I was one who spoke of silence And carried a hard stone I was searching for the missing yesterday today I never knew I'd found it Within. I couldn't say. III History It was the apple of the distant cart Where the Pharaoh had stood undressed Where the mighty Moses struck the Ark Into the forces of address I refused the universal saviour So many did before The mountain and the distance Was measured on a hollow threshing floor I voiced my own opinion The Ark was in this city I was hardly to confess Until the truth of Beelzebub Struck Eves mighty dress I was worsted by indifference I was mighty I was pure The plastic re-arrangement Made this bud a sore I had not confessed but knew how The Ark was driven out I was one and not the other Who was silent in the shout I voiced my own opinion Jesus was the corpse I knew that Solomon had risen Somewhere in the north Somewhere in the north I was wasted I was hollow I sang Hallelujah way Beyond the Rabbis Salem I was one with God almighty I was one with Satan's lot I was one before the alter That destroyed without a cause The many who had offered Their cross without a cross I was alone and this I conquered Myself and nothing more I was banished to the shadows But was reassembled in the dawn My nature was religion My past was very warm I was freed when you desired Something other than a storm I was prayed to: never mentioned I was spirited away I was the Ark of your god's covenant And to this day I am alive waiting for the perfect moment to salvage what was lost to me to take revenge to take revenge upon the population who did not obey IV I was one with the lord I was one with the atmosphere of a mighty indiscretion I was one with Moses Jesus And the Pharaoh who had made the universe I was one with sand and rivers flood and war I was one with the mighty and the poor I was one with GOD...I was empty I was bold but was alone I was something of a hollow stone I was Satan I was scarred with the mark on Cain and I was one with Judas when he hanged himself All this made me part of God Gentle mighty and omnipotent I was like the desert I was one with sky and earth and fire I was wood and did I burn? I burned. And from my ashes they made man and brought the passion of the fruit... And there was mighty woman too afraid to seek revenge for Noah's flood had made the trench between the sexes violent... I pretended not to notice I was blessed and alone Among a multitude alone empty and afraid but yet a mighty sword that slaughtered all who had the courage to oppose the lesser god I had a mind to be: I can't do this I said. I would find it difficult to be the guardian of the Ark. I had offered incense but I found the High priest, old and ragged, said that it was not enough. I would have to dedicate myself for life to guarding this all holy relic from abuse, I would have to sacrifice the freedom I so hotly fused to what was in my soul. I said I could not do it. I told the sage that it was just not good for such a man as I to live among the hermits of the citadel. He smiled and only spoke with words of praise. You know yourself how you will sacrifice to God. He spoke no further words but ultimately died. They came with nails upon my back. They assaulted me with stones. They said I was the 'chosen one': a prisoner, and theirs alone. I spit upon their holy ground and fled into the wilderness. 40 nights and forty days. I was thirsty and of want for woman and for man. They waited and they knew that I would come. I was chained to God that day. I never left the sanctuary of the holy grail...and never more was I alone. I was food within myself and food for others, I was not a prisoner, as I had thought. I was just myself with the knowledge of the fused indifference of the all too holy Ark. V Dry the desert Mrs. Peabody said 'I Have no more tea' The Templars dug beneath the mount of Solomon, and what they found revealed to no one through the arc they build in the cathedral at Riems. I sat among the pubis stones at the bottom of Vesuvius I spied the vines and made a drink from what I thought was history...but History was no more than today spirited into a future sacrifice that no imagination could accept as truth beneath the ruins of another ghost. I said I didn't know you: you said you knew me all too well... I was one with god and you were one with hell. Dry the desert. The caves of Qumran are alive with scorpions and words. The quest for mighty sunlight masters the absurd... O the gods of these archaic times! shadows of indistinct premonitions shadows of a corpse... I have never mentioned...and I never will of course! I have placed the thorn upon a tear and witnessed it's demise I have desperately flung myself upon a dull red knife. Know me as I have known you. I have no blood to shed. Know me as the Templar cross alive in Ethiopia. Know me as the song I sang with children young of dreams and hope. Know me as the dreams you weave with which you want to cope. I have never known this much others call me 'wise' mostly I have been a fool as others are alive to what I cannot know The guardian they say I am I am no guardian the Ark guards of itself what mortals cannot do It is the blood and holy grail where Tristram sang it too And where the pale pale maiden came and went with nothing but a rose and where this knight Gawain too fright and noticed where the grail was his if only he could this survive... I am not indifferent I hear the voiced whisper I hear the ghost of this cold night and curse the fierce disaster that must take the earth to the brink of what god's after and god is after what I deal is perfect poker with the past But I have neither discourse nor a proof of that. I am just a lone wolf in a forest. Raging mad and full of dreams. And rearranging what you think you want to but you really mean. I am the power and the glory I am a shadow of the showmanship you have acquired with the fright of what you have not meant to be... You really have left blood upon the trail and a disaster forthcoming the destruction of the Temple and the loss of Jesus' tomb I know the fountain rains just water but there is, where you won't look, much gold. I raise my arms against the sun and let the shadows cool my eyes I strike a sliver 'gainst a stone and gathers sparks where they might fly The women of the mountain snicker They say that I am mad I have no honest answer They may be right...I guess I fashion no horizon They find no man within this shell I am no holy prophet and I am no sexual imbecile I forge the dust of deserts a heated argument Judas was my master and Moses lent a hand but the final straw was Herod he flustered at the sight of what life had to offer and he set the record right he freed the master without pain and washed his hands in fright I couldn't check this false transfusion I couldn't guide the mule into the gates of eden where Eve had had her fill... I just as well made comfort with the devil in his hell. I froze, there was nothing wrong but I froze. I sank my teeth into my gums turned pale and froze. I was lifted by the god I had despised into the ream of heave and there I saw the sow partaken of a total lack of taste...I have waited no solution but offered this regress I have made my life an offer that the holy can't address I have forced my mind asunder I have taken up the cross and conquered every holy land in a night of earthly dross Do not look upon me I am the bloody ark and of course have been the cross... I lifted up the seven veils of all the virgins offered to the mount of histrionics I have not been well but have sacrificed no hell I have self contained the devil and scribbled thoughts upon the wall of what was a decrepit cell and then the auditorium I should have lived my life that well! I coursed the banner flying saying death to those who are the slaughter of our innocence (had they innocence to live!) I was one I know of many beneath the blazing sun and the woman that I married died in flames upon the sand I was not a prophet I was silent I was not I will repeat a penitent I was just another of the throng A faceless individual who faced a mighty wrong I wasn't even christian but faced the lion's teeth every time I woke up from a desperately unknown dream VI It's tuesday not the day of rest for sure but a day of new beginnings tuesday when the shadows call for a retreat and history advances once before the alter of regret I have known this many tuesdays but have known of no regret I have lived my life dishonest and fashioned out of breath a hated resolution that those who live have never lived and never will the living have been of the dead to follow this ideal the living have been living what I found unreal I noticed smoke of incense within the holy of the holy I noticed I was one fifth jew and 4 fifths german and I was recalled to war in mind because I had not ever fought a battle that was settled with a gun I have never ever suffered Let it be known to those I had so many years ago degraded and falsely spit upon The veterans were our saviours they gave us what has been our voice I bow to them in failure I am humbled by their sacrifice I would say to you now knowing better I would gladly have accepted death beside your sacrifice. I am loss and I am abyss I have knitted a warm shawl I have made my voice a silent empty screen of pride Listen while I tell you of the monster that I hide within the labyrinth of reason within a dark red hide I was once a man who knew me I was once at peace with god I was like a broken river I was forded in a barge I was made a slow demeanor I was hoisted to the mast I was frozen to a plastic solitudal mass I was empty a residual I was garbage and afraid I accepted coronations from the vanquished in my way I gave no one a reason for being this alive yet somehow I gave something for those who never cried (I heard voices...they were laughter the gods...well never mind...I lied...) Torn the life of me was blind The saviour in the alley way Was a drunk but this drunk was mighty kind He offered me a violet And died where only I could find The peaceful insignificance oh humankind. I make no desperate struggle to reform the art of political ambition I have (they say) to much of something that might be described as a human heart I don't know 'bout that I'm just a scribbler of these words. (I am) I have no heart for any man I have no life against a famous history I am gone before my time (I am) No one will remember me Or I guess this elegy I remember Buffy St Marie And the foolish soldier that I am (I hear a distant thunder roar I hear the opening of a massive door I know you will not, but I enter there I've naught to lose, (you only stare) I am a foolish soldier that I know Pity me for what I don't. VII Still I feel like killing and I kill the very heart of me knowing that asunder a plastic thought has wrought a very plastic heart I am empty with a failure I am empty in the well where water was the desert and the desert measured hell VIII Outside of us things die There is a great fire but it's great glow is dissipated by the easterly which blows with a desperate hollow thought the trees There was a woman old and hobbled every day from church to grave and made the children laugh with rage but she asserted this old truth The past regains the future and no one vanishes with age It is just the present which remains the cruel incertitude of years Like a diamond hidden it is ragged like the coal consumed within the flames of life it warms us very well The bible teaches us to sacrifice flesh upon the rock and even Isaac made to flake the desperation from his brow No one should kill just because a voice commands even god shall Not. There is fire where there's rain know the clouds are farmer's grain IX And the manna from the sky rained down Upon the desperate dwellers in the desert And Moses climbed upon the citadel of God And mediated forty days and forty nights Until he caught the tablets of the finger And brought them to the earth. But what he saw Made blood coagulate within his veins and he Smashed the tablets in a force of anger And he struck the idolaters unto the ground In unmarked graves he let their bodies rot. And forty days and forty nights again He went onto the mountain of the lord And once again returned with mighty words Constructing then an Ark to keep them in. Thus in rage the journey of the thunder had begun producing naught but supplications and disease and filth of forms and putrefied illusion and of course the blood the sacrifice of animals upon the alter and the empty sacrifice to human life that YHWH is his wisdom magnified Thus my friends we have this myth of history a myth that is more real than what is claimed by the dimension of time (no black hole can wipe this out) the slate is far from clean and the alter has no temple anymore but the Ark is not so very far as death could not suppose and will return to force the hand of every nation's claim to mankind's tragic heritage "from out of Ethiopia the trumpet of the lord will sound and smite the disbelievers until they squirm like worms within the cold cold darkness of the ground becoming compost to a greater good and so the last of all our blood shall flow to open heaven in the bosom of the lord" mighty words and stark reality within the myth is plastic friend The myth turns history if we believe the myth we have no other recourse but to keep creating myths because without we bind no history and form no basis for our past XI It opens up the black mouth screams and in that scream a violent confusion a million shattered battered forms of human disrespect for life we don't just cut another but we mutilate that has been in times of war and peace as well and that has been religion in the terror of our gain It opens up the black mouth screams and in that scream life appears a swollen gland upon a pregnant window to the universe I have said enough The poem's like an argument I cannot win The poem cannot be a shelter from this sin. 1 - 8 April 92 Copyright (c) Klaus J. Gerken 1992 Published by Ygdrasil Press http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken kgerken@synapse.net alt.centipede 1001-257 Lisgar Street Ottawa, Ontario K2P 0C7 Canada