Meditational Glow


The Incomparable Jimmie Beeee!!!!

... but just call me Jimmy Be

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Meditational Glow

Poem's to ring out the old and ring in the new

A couple of New Year’s poems I writted over the years:

Untitled 25

Jiffy Lube
across from Qui  t INN
          Motel — Nw Yrz Eve
Oh, the sun shines bright
on my old Seattle home
Life’s too serious
to take seriously

Nw Yrz Eve
Car’s gettin’ fresh lube job
People gonna be gettin’ well lubed tonight
Wheeee!!! Eve’s forbidden fruits & toots & hoots!
25 years since the infamous
Nw Yrs Eve Party
when the host was 4 sheets t’ th’ wind
with 3 hours to go and no one seemed to
give a shit ’cept my friend and me
I don’t like drunks
especially those that know better
which is most of ’em.
(Beneath Qui  t INN sign
sign says “Care Plus Medical Center”)
Gimme a quiet night

Written December 31, 2004, in waiting room of the bigchain oilchange place located about 1193 feet north of Seattle; spontaneous free-form experiment with minimal editing, mainly adding occasional punctuation and capitalization for clarity; I was into my Keroacian period (Kero whack Ian) beatpoetbeeee period of poetry writing and decided to fill a pocket notebook with “first-thought-best-thought” see what happens verse. I ended up with 62 or so and compiled into a “book” called Karma Dharma before the well-worn notebook wore out and the pages disintegrated. (The Nw Yrs Eve Party reference was to the infamous party to which a new friend invited me to ring in 1980. Her alcoholic mom got roaring drunk by midnight and all of my friend’s three siblings ignored mom as if nothing was happening. I remember one brother locked his focus on the television to block out his mom’s behavior. My friend finally lost it (the only one who tried to keep her mom calmed down — without success) and I took her for a walk around the neighborhood because she needed to escape the insanity. I haven’t been to a New Year’s party since.)

All Things New

New Year’s Day:
The hangover get sober
unholiday holiday —
The blank page,
new chapter of lifebook holiday —
The glop of clay, blank canvas,
block of stone, unrecorded tape,
masterwork-in-waiting holiday —
The wide-open-road, wide-open-spaces
seat-of-the-pants, no-itinerary,
mystery adventure holiday.

Last year is suddenly ancient news.
Behold, I make all things new.
What about you?

              — 1-1-2012, evening, West Seattle waterfront

Written as noted at end of poem; more spontaneous verse putting behind a deeply unsettling 2011 of much “spiritual” and “personal growth” turmoil that inspired many introspective poems writted in my quirky “prosetry” style. 2009 and 2010 were years of constipated creativity, severe writers block and mental give-it-up cloggery that left me struggling to create something and putting out almost nothing. Much like the last four years here in the hometown, trying to emerge from more poetic writers block from dulled-mind nothing-to-do-in-this-town drudgeryliving. This time writers block since pretty much end of 2013. Some days I feel like I am in exile here in the place where I grew up. I hope that by resuming LiveJournal posting I will shake loose the crud and that poetry writing will be fun again. And other writing too. I am not a “writer” per se as I never pursued it outside of obligatory news writing during a career working for small-town weekly newspapers. But I do like to have fun with verse.

Oh, Happy New Year everybody reading this. Pass it on.


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