April Poetry Month (Day 15): Greg Flegel #npm17 #wppoets

New York Me2Greg L. Flegel is a native Milwaukeean. Learned about poetry at Ripon College from David Graham. My heroes are Gwendolyn Brooks, Dylan Thomas, Robert Browning, William Carlos Williams, Langston Hughes, Lucille Clifton and Billy Collins. Fascinated by structures, classics, and collision of the arts. Writing is as much entertainment as it is therapy. I hope these poems surprise you as much as they did me.

 

 

 

Prayers

Protect this cup of coffee. When Venus burned it steamed

Too fervid to sip. Imbibed with cream

Now perfectly tempered to a palatable hot. Soon,

As I savor each swallow, it continues to cool,

Becomes tepid, and unsuitable to consume.

I regret younger days – I’d slam it – open the tomb

Of my throat, and gulp dark buzz without benefit of taste.

Remember, too, those without coffee – who depend on fear or need to wake.

 

A Clockwork Orange
(from the novel by Anthony Burgess)

Flowing blood dances to cement. Van Gogh’s
Sun Flowers painted industriously, a
Quick symphony, or smooth sonnet read slow –
My friends, let’s revenge the kids of aged Medea
And just have fun. A gang’s night out. Bother
Books, men and women – get sliced my brother.

Nightsticks find us, and the dazzling red-blue light.
Badge flips at me, naked, only fifteen. Vent,
As old friends, unarmed, comparing the trite
Apologies of apathetic parents.
My skin hangs numb as sick Pavlov sedates me
With the substance of art – its blood and lust. Foley

Overpowers my insides. See how it yellows
My blood. Grown sunflowers clock old Van Gogh.

 

Magnetic Song

About our singing voids:
Knife them,
Heaving hotly,
To prevent these incubating bitters.
Competing polarities attract.

Later that night I
Lather his flood of
Raw need beneath
This, my sad skin suit.

Rain moans gorgeously as I crush music
His hairy flesh seeps into mine
How languid there he swims
A repulsive eternity is bared
When the haunting wind
Drools under our frantic satisfaction
Through this ugly vision he whispers
Filth then fingers sweat.
His moon time
My sun mist

Complimentary polarities repulse.
Bed delirious,
This dreamless power
Is never some easy shadowy want.
We leave each tongue to chant alone.

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