Contemplations Over Wine
“Why did you do it?”
Why did I do it?
I did it for the sake of…
for the sake of romance!
for the sake of the babbling streets,
tripping over street corners and
fiery frontal lobes, accompanied by
for laughing sidewalks and
city walls, graceful balconies
painted over by flocks of
elegant feather, beaks beckoning,
feeling large, high and away…
for wine bottle wobbliness
empty and thrown against a wall
it screams a shrill scream and
scatters, reflecting my fragmented self,
I did it for the vacant bottle
that has evolved into a vase
the American Beauty rose
leaning on the brim cooly,
perhaps, yes, snapping to jazz…
no water at its stem
wondering if it can give
the flower life as it gives
AH, WINE DRUNKENNESS!
seduce me, fuck me, I am your
play toy, my mind an egg, my
words your baby…
teach me your language at once!
distant brass singing…
Mr. Miles Davis accompanies me…
beyond boundaries of vague
language and egoic mind…
I can hear what he says,
through lips buzzing
and if my voice, too, were a trumpet,
would it resonate?
flying off sacred reflections?
until it trots down to your door,
curls up at the front step, waiting
for you to Wake Up
and find it?
I admire the trees too, sprouting out
of stubborn cement…and their language,
individualistic borderline eccentric self-expression
in every pattern of branch and bark and root,
oh how they whisper when the wind swims through!
they say nothing I can translate into
our own words…
I am left only with a feeling
of stupendous bliss, of
manifest maternity within
any living being, connected
by roots seen and unseen,
pumping precious pearls
of new life, revitalizing
and so I try for you–
because I love you…
to transcribe these tangled
messages filtered through my mind…
to bring these beautiful languages to you…
for the sake of poesy…of romance…
in reverence of Mother, who
holds our Earth lovingly
in her bosom…
always singing her lullaby–
it can wake you or send you to your to dreams…
her warm milk flowing into oceans,
her song tickling our foliage…
move aside your mind, and simply listen.
Then you may understand…
Her love will sink into all roots
and blossom you again.
Eric Bischoff and is a student at Emerson College, studying Visual Media Arts. This particular poem was written about the different languages of the world, beyond human and animal experiences.
Nicholas J.J. Smith is a photographer and philosopher from Sydney, Australia.
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