This Magic House is not so magical anymore.
Or so it seems.
The Garden of Eden has been chopped down.
Eve herself left years ago. And, as much as Adam
has loved, no new Eve has arrived to plant herself
here for storm, locust, or disease.
Adam himself has grown fat and tired.
"I suppose I never told you the Magic House
and Eden were one place, did I?"
No, I was never informed of this, said Satan
who promised not to come back for years.
At least for years, if not forever.
But Adam has not lost all his faith, not all of it.
Most of it, yes. Enough to lose sight of love, to
have lost even his memory of the magic, the creative,
healing force of the magic, that which defies the physician
and the priest.
Yet there is still one last trick to perform.
Rich Quatrone May 28 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
MEMORIAL DAY 2012
I see the parades in Bradley Beach. Grown men
acting like boys, marching in unison, playing on bagpipes
and drums the childhood tunes of the military. Dirges
we were taught as children would lead us to manhood
and heroism. Things all little boys aspire to, dream
of, and will dream of forever, really.
I see the runners, all white, mostly corporate types,
running to the sounds of air force and marine and
army fight songs played by a bugle player and
a drummer.
This is what we do here in America after ten years
of death, destruction, brutality, endless Orwellian
wars where the American deaths are broadcast
daily on televisions and computers, while the hundreds
of thousands of Iraqi and Afghan deaths go unmentioned.
We are all heroes, you know. Every one of us with our
holiday ballgames and parties and rock and roll nightclubs
here at the Jersey Shore.
We are all 21st Century heroes.
Rich Quatrone May 28 2012 Memorial Day
acting like boys, marching in unison, playing on bagpipes
and drums the childhood tunes of the military. Dirges
we were taught as children would lead us to manhood
and heroism. Things all little boys aspire to, dream
of, and will dream of forever, really.
I see the runners, all white, mostly corporate types,
running to the sounds of air force and marine and
army fight songs played by a bugle player and
a drummer.
This is what we do here in America after ten years
of death, destruction, brutality, endless Orwellian
wars where the American deaths are broadcast
daily on televisions and computers, while the hundreds
of thousands of Iraqi and Afghan deaths go unmentioned.
We are all heroes, you know. Every one of us with our
holiday ballgames and parties and rock and roll nightclubs
here at the Jersey Shore.
We are all 21st Century heroes.
Rich Quatrone May 28 2012 Memorial Day
Thursday, May 24, 2012
SLAMMING POETRY: THE POETRY OF THE 1 %
Check out today's New York Times "Books of the Times"
review and find Alien Vs. Predator by one Michael Robbins.
Poetry endorsed by The New Yorker and now published
by major house Penguin.
Poems without heart or substance. Playing with language
is the primary attraction.
So, this is what we've left with our pulling out from the
community. Those of us who have retreated into our
own private reveries and nightmares. I will take first
blame for this, or at least blame enough for myself.
There are others, some of whom know who they are.
And there are the cast of imposters, whose names I've
said often enough elsewhere so will leave them
unmentioned this time.
Of course, this poem, the one you're reading, is unnecessary,
is it not? The world hasn't changed at all. Yet, the planet
can no longer tolerate our persistent ignorance and cowardice.
We do have the likes of the young bloods who start
sites like the one I'm writing this on. Let's hope they
don't abrogate their responsibility to themselves
and to the world.
Rich Quatrone May 24 2012 8:46am
review and find Alien Vs. Predator by one Michael Robbins.
Poetry endorsed by The New Yorker and now published
by major house Penguin.
Poems without heart or substance. Playing with language
is the primary attraction.
So, this is what we've left with our pulling out from the
community. Those of us who have retreated into our
own private reveries and nightmares. I will take first
blame for this, or at least blame enough for myself.
There are others, some of whom know who they are.
And there are the cast of imposters, whose names I've
said often enough elsewhere so will leave them
unmentioned this time.
Of course, this poem, the one you're reading, is unnecessary,
is it not? The world hasn't changed at all. Yet, the planet
can no longer tolerate our persistent ignorance and cowardice.
We do have the likes of the young bloods who start
sites like the one I'm writing this on. Let's hope they
don't abrogate their responsibility to themselves
and to the world.
Rich Quatrone May 24 2012 8:46am
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
DO IT FOR THE WOMEN (for Joey)
Do it for the women!
Read Shakespeare, read Baraka, read Ginsberg,
read Whitman, Blake, read history and philosophy,
learn science and math, learn foreign languages,
learn to read music.
If doing it to expand your mind and consciousness,
if doing it to create a conscience, if doing to connect
to Dr King and Malcolm and Mailer and Sontag
and Adrienne Rich isn't enough.
Then, if for no other reason, do it for all the
great women!!
Rich Quatrone
May 23 2012
858am
Read Shakespeare, read Baraka, read Ginsberg,
read Whitman, Blake, read history and philosophy,
learn science and math, learn foreign languages,
learn to read music.
If doing it to expand your mind and consciousness,
if doing it to create a conscience, if doing to connect
to Dr King and Malcolm and Mailer and Sontag
and Adrienne Rich isn't enough.
Then, if for no other reason, do it for all the
great women!!
Rich Quatrone
May 23 2012
858am
Thursday, May 17, 2012
FEED ME POEMS
okay i admit i'm a beast no better than the rest of them
a beast hungry and greedy and ugly and fat and old
and losing the contact that place the heart the pussy
the cock of it all
i admit it i'm a fascist pig the man in blue the man
in black i am the crack in the sky the ones who die
and dye the cloth we call brotherhood
i did it, i did, i did it
and i still do it
so, sew me together whether you like me or not
give me a knot to stop this slide down the rope of
despair
grab me by the goddamn hair man do what you can
to save my sorry ass
feed me your poems that's a start a way to reach
what's left of my heart
rich quatrone may 17 2012
a beast hungry and greedy and ugly and fat and old
and losing the contact that place the heart the pussy
the cock of it all
i admit it i'm a fascist pig the man in blue the man
in black i am the crack in the sky the ones who die
and dye the cloth we call brotherhood
i did it, i did, i did it
and i still do it
so, sew me together whether you like me or not
give me a knot to stop this slide down the rope of
despair
grab me by the goddamn hair man do what you can
to save my sorry ass
feed me your poems that's a start a way to reach
what's left of my heart
rich quatrone may 17 2012
YOUNG BLOOD'S SONG AND THE MUSIC
i'm jealous
jealous
only the way an old man can be
am i really old?
does my throat not sing song
is the city dead to me
the lower east side
the upper west side
columbia
the west end cafe (they say its name
is gone) where ginsberg and mark rudd
and keruoac and that pretty movie actress
used to be
and bill wertheim
and his sexy girl up there on 125th
i was there!
a brief time
before the world caved in
but i was there!!
with fritz the bartender i was crazy about
but too timid to make a move
fritz the beauty who studied in clown
school in dc
fritz who came out of my brother's
bedroom and my heart dropped
fritz fucked my big brother
and all i could do was walk away
like a rejected dog
i was there
jose venegas and me on the columbia campus
high as kites looking up at the black heavens
stars too numerous for my imagination to
figure out
jose saved my life when i sold paper
flowers in the village and the spanish
boys wanted to kick my ass
but young blood is there now!
not then
now!
lennie tristano plays the keys
only the way an old italian can
play the keys
rich quatrone may 17 2012
jealous
only the way an old man can be
am i really old?
does my throat not sing song
is the city dead to me
the lower east side
the upper west side
columbia
the west end cafe (they say its name
is gone) where ginsberg and mark rudd
and keruoac and that pretty movie actress
used to be
and bill wertheim
and his sexy girl up there on 125th
i was there!
a brief time
before the world caved in
but i was there!!
with fritz the bartender i was crazy about
but too timid to make a move
fritz the beauty who studied in clown
school in dc
fritz who came out of my brother's
bedroom and my heart dropped
fritz fucked my big brother
and all i could do was walk away
like a rejected dog
i was there
jose venegas and me on the columbia campus
high as kites looking up at the black heavens
stars too numerous for my imagination to
figure out
jose saved my life when i sold paper
flowers in the village and the spanish
boys wanted to kick my ass
but young blood is there now!
not then
now!
lennie tristano plays the keys
only the way an old italian can
play the keys
rich quatrone may 17 2012
The Revolution is Romantic (Lower east side ballad of the moon)
Woman singing in the park with guitar torn between two bare hands for old dirty dollar bills,
Back on Ludlow my two friends kiss and wait to go to work,
Dogs bark
People walk, strollers and all
More engaged in conversation than
they are with each other
Drums beat, and we meet in the middle
the revolution is romantic and so are
we as we watch the moon float
to the sound of the sax and
Coltrane's mask of reed and space
and time doesn't really exist does it?
I dunno...
I dunno anything anymore never
have, thought i did sometimes but
I was wrong and still am wrong most
days and time tick tock live till
your heart stops loving, i hope not
carry over after it doesn't beat no more
and is this love real?
is that really a question?
I wish you were here again
and its freaking me out
you with your sexy hips
and your baby and your eyes
and your smile
and i feel electric when im with you
without i think about
its true i guess
I'm writing this stupid
fucking poem about it
get off my chest
I bless this moment
with a kiss from me to
you through the heavens
and the moon,
and i'm listing to Mo-town again
smiling and singing the Temps, Al Green
"I can't believe that its real..."
and i just wanna feel like this forever
on the lower east side
with you on my mind
darlin, with you by my side
5-9-12
nyc
Back on Ludlow my two friends kiss and wait to go to work,
Dogs bark
People walk, strollers and all
More engaged in conversation than
they are with each other
Drums beat, and we meet in the middle
the revolution is romantic and so are
we as we watch the moon float
to the sound of the sax and
Coltrane's mask of reed and space
and time doesn't really exist does it?
I dunno...
I dunno anything anymore never
have, thought i did sometimes but
I was wrong and still am wrong most
days and time tick tock live till
your heart stops loving, i hope not
carry over after it doesn't beat no more
and is this love real?
is that really a question?
I wish you were here again
and its freaking me out
you with your sexy hips
and your baby and your eyes
and your smile
and i feel electric when im with you
without i think about
its true i guess
I'm writing this stupid
fucking poem about it
get off my chest
I bless this moment
with a kiss from me to
you through the heavens
and the moon,
and i'm listing to Mo-town again
smiling and singing the Temps, Al Green
"I can't believe that its real..."
and i just wanna feel like this forever
on the lower east side
with you on my mind
darlin, with you by my side
5-9-12
nyc
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
WHAT OUR BODIES SAY TO US
If we only knew how to listen to our bodies.
How to listen and then to have the intelligence,
the wisdom, and most of all the courage to do
what they tell us.
But the vast majority of us do not know how to
listen. Not in the West particularly.
Here we beat the body into submission.
We starve it, train it, exhaust it, we pleasure it,
often without love, we demand it perform in
gyms. And then we display it. We tease each
other with it. Or we compare it to others, most
often with hubris or, at times, malice.
But we never listen.
Our relationship to our bodies if like the relationship
we had with Vietnam, or to Afghanistan now, or
to Iraq. The same relationship we had with the Natives
in the "Americas," and with the Africans we made our
slaves
We have not listened to our bodies. And we still
don't.
What our bodies really tell us is beneath this
colonialist mentality. Beneath the capitalist mentality.
Beneath the greed, the aggression, beneath the militaristic
attitude we have towards ourselves and others.
Our bodies tell us to go deeper. To yield. To surrender.
To feel. This, more than anything, to feel. And what we feel
in ourselves we should feel in others. To learn compassion
and empathy from what we feel.
Our bodies tell us to love. To give. To empty the storehouses.
To release the silos of their grain. To ease the pain of the workers.
To share the bounty. To heal the terrible, long damage
and violence we've inflicted, on our bodies and spirits, on the
earth.
And our bodies promise us things not even this poem
can imagine.
Rich Quatrone, May 16, 2012, 8:12am
How to listen and then to have the intelligence,
the wisdom, and most of all the courage to do
what they tell us.
But the vast majority of us do not know how to
listen. Not in the West particularly.
Here we beat the body into submission.
We starve it, train it, exhaust it, we pleasure it,
often without love, we demand it perform in
gyms. And then we display it. We tease each
other with it. Or we compare it to others, most
often with hubris or, at times, malice.
But we never listen.
Our relationship to our bodies if like the relationship
we had with Vietnam, or to Afghanistan now, or
to Iraq. The same relationship we had with the Natives
in the "Americas," and with the Africans we made our
slaves
We have not listened to our bodies. And we still
don't.
What our bodies really tell us is beneath this
colonialist mentality. Beneath the capitalist mentality.
Beneath the greed, the aggression, beneath the militaristic
attitude we have towards ourselves and others.
Our bodies tell us to go deeper. To yield. To surrender.
To feel. This, more than anything, to feel. And what we feel
in ourselves we should feel in others. To learn compassion
and empathy from what we feel.
Our bodies tell us to love. To give. To empty the storehouses.
To release the silos of their grain. To ease the pain of the workers.
To share the bounty. To heal the terrible, long damage
and violence we've inflicted, on our bodies and spirits, on the
earth.
And our bodies promise us things not even this poem
can imagine.
Rich Quatrone, May 16, 2012, 8:12am
Monday, May 14, 2012
Musical Meditations Pt 2
When I open my eyes
occupy wall street is
changing the tide
global revolution is the
bike we ride to power
our technological machines,
yes we are still human beings
not cyborgs reliving the scream
alive now and passionate
about life!
kiss me hard
so i know its alright
to be attracted to
the movements we
write about at night
finally! a spark to ignite
it took so much darkness
for us to find light
fire shines bright
for it burns with the
yearning of a generations
young plight,
When I open my eyes
I'm standing on the edge
of the universe
speaking in tongues to the tribe
smiling wide with the recognition
that yes, we made it
thus far,
bars cross the charge
and large fat men
that used to rule the globe
now sit in cells
no more political prisoners
just crooked politicians
judges and CEOs'
bankers and lawyers, -
and home is where the heart is,
and mines in struggle with you
brothers and sisters across
this outstretched land
that we are feeding upon
living upon,
loving upon -
we are one with this
breathing earth womb mother
of us all walking feet
bare in mud and puddles
and rainstorms,
concrete
she fills my being as I write this,
because we are all connected -
hope fills my aura as I collect this
because we are all reflections, -
of each other
of our mother
this great divide of vastness
that inspires our minds
through mountains and rivers
and valleys, and buildings -
we are free in each others
thoughts right now, -
When I close my eyes
I see you smiling back at me
and I realize that this
is how it's supposed to be
inspiration flows through magical
smiles and the two twinkling eyes
before me,
your memory etched
upon my soul so that
I may grow in unison
with you, and us
and we are all one
yes, I feel that now
more than I’ve ever begun
to feel anything before
i laugh at the cure for
our cultural disease for i
see how easy the answer
was all along!
just humble yourself and know its
beyond
When I open my eyes
I'm in front of At&t
Occupy Atlanta comrades at my side
the battle is raging global revolt on my mind
Food Not Bombs and Cop Watch
the battle is raging global revolt on my mind
Food Not Bombs and Cop Watch
It’s
been such a long time
Free classes going on at Peachtree
and Pine
The evil forces are glaring they
plottin tonight
Hated boys in blue be disruptin the
vibe
Quality of Life oink corner of my
eye
Undercover agents fuck the FBI
Homeland security covert we see
You
damn spies
The revolutions being live streamed,
Still
not televised
You pigs wake up before the day you
die
Cuz being in the wrongs the legacy
you leave behind
What will your kids think when they
see you in time?
On documentaries and Youtube beatin
protesters outside,
Of the capitol building, Zuccotti
Park, New York Times
How do you sleep at night? Do you
hear the cries?
Pushing young women with tears in
their eyes…
“Who
do you protect? Who do you serve?”
Blood and broken bones still got out
signs raised high
Re-call elections we provide
Takin over offices to make the
government align
With the people and their hearts
Dismantle 1% design
Take Back The Block
At the Pittmans reside
Boycott Chase bank racist
With black fist with we ride
When I open my eyes
I’m standing on a cliff
At Larson’s beach in Kauai
Overlooking as whales breach
Then fall back to the ocean
Sending pieces of the pacific
Shooting up toward the sky,
Contemplating endlessness
Land centers pulling us to where we
are
Pushing to the stars,
This connection of travelers
We stay on the move to find each other
Inspiration in conversations of
magic
And
universal power
When I close my eyes
Babylon is falling behind
Streets are being dug out
And replaced by trees
Yes this just in : We ARE
Living the dream
Restoration projects are painting
The seam that we’ve created –
Beginning to see the vision,
Elders teaching wisdom
Youth kick it and listen
Evolution in the consciousness of
the globe –
My heart swells up,
In future present tense we’ve
already won
From the gluttonous belly of the
beast
Don’t invade Iran all we want is some
peace
And freedom and some of that
psychological release
When I open my eyes
Your naked and giggling
Vibrating in front of me
Your two eyes sparkle in the moon
light
And
I want nothing more
Than
this moment we’re sharing
Spiritual creation at our bodies
demanding
Ebb and flow of us becoming one
With the cosmological structure
Of how it all begun
And
I’m happy we waited for this
Moment
to come
Perfect cell formation we elevate
beyond
When I kiss you its magic
Universal
love
This is why I meditate
What I try to become
You’ve opened my heart to beat in
synch with the drum
Of divine force of life
Synchronistic patterns ignite me to
live
Like I might die tonight
Thank you for letting me cuddle up
to the light
When I open my eyes
I’m hysterically laughing
With Brennon Bridget Yaro
Kevin and Bobby not thinkin
Bout tomorrow,
Epic meals in café’s of small
Town arrays
And hallways of professional
Building estates
And
being brokes never been so fun
And
when we meet again we’ll be having
Some
of the most spectacular conversations
That
our minds can gather
Scattered memories of people places
and things
Noun’s put me on to these literary
schemes
And no I’m beaming recognition my
love
Around
the globe
When I close my eyes
Im caught in limbo with
Past loves on my mind
Wish we could speak
Wish we weren’t confined
To thought patterns
That trap our intentions behind
The fear and pain of the race for a
mate
Societies claim to what makes us all
sane
When love doesn’t move like we’ve
Been taught that it does
But flows like water in all
directions because
That’s the nature of energy
untouched
And it just gets stuck when we
bottle it up
So let it flow let it roll
And lets all catch up
Because forgiveness on the real
Is all that we’ve got
To cross before our relationships
get lost
On the edge of history like ghosts
in the fog
All alone on our death beds
Wishin that we could start
The process before we had
Gotten this far
I miss you all
And know your all stars
From lovers to friendship lets not
get caught
In the trap of emotions that just
tangles the heart
Reconciliation from miles apart
Reflect on situations your all in my
heart
When I open my eyes
I'm feeling more alive
than i ever have,
people fighting back
coming together as one
feel the trees breathe
yes, the battles just begun
back from the dead
conquered the drug induced slum
no mass alchohal
revolution of the minds been won
eatin mad raw salads, doin
pushups for fun, smile in my eyes
the work of resistance is love
when i open my eyes
i'm surrounded by all the people
i love
when i open my eyes
i see all that we could become
keep on fighting, keep the faith
because the world it waits
on us to change
and so did we but realize now
that we are the ones
that can change everything
dont ever become
less than your dreams
something your not
yes follow your heart
yes follow your heart
when i open my eyes
we are winning
global spring beginning
to blossom.
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