Turbula - Poetry - A Kind of Drinking Song

RaynRoberts is found in print and online at Rattle, Rattapallax, Retort Magazine, The Sow's Ear Review, Voices in Wartime, PoetsWest, Thunder Sandwich, The Pedestal Magazine, Void Magazine, Poet's Corner in Fieralingue and many others. He appears in four anthologies. In 2006, Evolving Editions Press in New York included him in its "Illuminations" series. His newest book, “Of One and Many Worlds,” from Poetic Matrix Press came out in August 2006. In 2003 he published "Jazz Cocktails & Soapbox Songs". He is the author of “The Fires of Spring”, a collection of Buddhist poems written in South Korea where he teaches English to university students. Visit his web site.

The celebrants of Friday scotch, men of lesser deeds
Spent time like pocket change in endless café-bars
Made noise enough to wake the quick and dead:
There was light drizzle on the cherry blossom way,
The six of us, smashed, but more high on ourselves
As most young men will be when booze is consumed,
When Dwight, a good natured poet, began shouting,
"So what's art from no-Nukes if your Ego-jerking girl
Leaves you for easier game, empty-handed in the café
And street fights in the rain!" (You had to be there.)
Then continues, while thunder pounded the distance,

"It's the leaven of the mind to know for every stance
A different man while pissing on the earth; how best,
In these times, to get between the legs of truth and
Have a fucking field day, my friends, especially when
Language, words, speak mostly to nothing new now
And the dull edge of the age digs us all a deeper grave!
But disregarding that, look, the moon falls to fullness
Suns round the sky for no purpose but to burn,
Wisdom in my mind recalls a semi-innocent childhood
And above the mountains of Kyoto to mock my fury
That belt of morning thunder makes me a wiser fool."

We had to carry him two blocks to his place after that.
There seemed some weight to what he said, so I kept it.