Orb by Byron Wayne Scott - HTML preview
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IntroductionThe poems in Orb and Orb II are my very earliest writings. They were written between 1967 and 1970 when I was 15 to 18 years old. Originally, I was going to pick out the best 10-15 poems and put them into a book. I think it would have made a fairly descent book of poetry. But as I began reading through the work, after these many, many years, I saw that the poems presented a natural progression in my writing abilities, and so I decided to keep them all together in the order in which they were written. Many of these poems reflect the influences of the times. The Viet Nam war and the assassination of Robert Kennedy are two events that stand out. I also see the influence of the Beatles, especially the Sgt. Pepper’s album, along with Simon and Garfunkle. It’s obvious that some of these poems were meant to be songs, although I cannot remember having ever written any music to go with the lyrics, like I did with the Long Road series. Most of the poems simply reflect the thoughts of a young boy entering adulthood. Some are good and some are bad. A couple of them represent the biggest bunch of drivel I think I have ever read. They make me wonder, “what was I thinking at the time?” Of course, poems should be timeless. And many of these are. The ones that are stuck in time are interesting in their own way, but the poems that transcend time constitute the best poetry. I hope you take the time to read through both these books, Orb and Orb II. The poems get better as you go along. And if only one of them touches your soul, it would not be considered a waste of time. ORB A Book of Poetry 1 Ascent unto Providence…..September 1967 2 The Heritage…..October 1967 3 The Illusion…..October 1967 4 The Way of Society…..November 1967 5 To Outshine the Sun…..February 1968 6 Resplendence…..February 1968 7 The Snowfall…..March 1968 8 Like Death…..January 1968 9 The Love Dream…..February 1968 10 Crecian Dames…..March 1968 11 The Prophet (a fantasy)…..April 1968 12 To Be All Alone…..April 1968 13 Photograph…..May 1968 14 To Nancy…..May 1968 15 Castle…..June 1968 16 Robert…..June 1968 17 Earth as a Background…..July 1968 18 Fawn…..September 1968 19 Skunk…..September 1968 20 Conquests (over Simple Sanderson and the Wretched Establishment)…..Sept. 1968 21 Speak of Love…..October 1968 22 But for Dreadful Time…..December 1968 23 Dream of the Scot…..January 1969 24 Juggernaut…..January 1969 25 Laurie…..February 1969 26 Orb…..March 1969 Ascent unto Providence I go into the valley Through the tall grass so indifferent That leads unto the cypresses Where grow the lilies and the mint And the brook so gently bubbling In the sweet scent so like wine Solitude I find Peace that now is mine So I stretch out with my laziness On the moss so soft and fine And I think of things that matter And love that once was mine And I doze off in a while My heart conceives a smile And soon will come revival The daytime will surcease Yet the minted breeze will linger on And I’ll follow into the doorway And outside death can only portray The inevitable decay God’s dismay; the devil’s display And I’ll dwell in the house of the Lord forever The Heritage I stood beneath the lamplight My shadow washed into the dark night I washed into the dark night And there stood the Rev. Mr. Brown There stood the Rev. Mr. Brown The snow fell down through the trees Covered up the cold, dead leaves I was the cold, dead leaves And there stood the Rev. Mr. Brown There stood the Rev. Mr. Brown The church was somber, and aware There was no one there without a prayer I was there without a prayer And there stood the Rev. Mr. Brown There stood the Rev. Mr. Brown Everyone lies down to sleep There is no one here left to weep I am here but not to weep For the Rev. Mr. Brown And the congregation within the ground And the congregation within the ground The Illusion It was a time of plenty The grass grew, the flowers bloomed For in 301,574 A.D. There was love A bride and a groom About the hill Sage scented the still air And the man Looked over the lush countryside To the Thames. He cared He had blown his mind He ran down one peasant and more Which he left in the street And the rats came out to eat He was from the House of Lords The Way of Society People in the street Like statues stood For their life No one dared move Lest they die This is society Not to be disturbed No one can revolt Lest they be turned away Lest they die The air becomes stagnant Will no one dare breath? For his life? But ‘tis not for them to innovate Lest they be turned away And they die To Outshine the Sun A tree From a seedling Grew quickly, Beautifully; Majestically spread its branches, Reached the sun. And to strip the bark Or cut the trunk, Is to wash into the sea The sands of eternity. A woman From a babe Grew splendidly, Magnificently; Adoringly, Gloriously. Her radiant smile Outshone the sun Her beauty Shaded the tree. And to strip her of her love Is to wash into the sea Eternity. Resplendence A tanned body Of a girl that I know Dances in the setting sun Opens her mind As the night comes Sheds her smile As the night comes Lying under The gumdrop tree Is a girl that I know She makes the gumdrops Melt to snow Sweet gumdrops Melt to snow Sitting in An apple tree blossom Is the girl that I know The bee mistakes her For the sweet nectar I love her She’s sweet as nectar Her tanned body Soft as the pussywillow Her voice Sweet as a nightingale See my heart swell She knows I love her See her heart swell The Snowfall A jungle wonderland And against the background Of a setting sun With horizontal bars Of royal purple And streaming scarlet Falls a white fleece of snow Farther apart Drop the flakes Until they cease Now The reflection of the sun Grows Long and distant Illuminating red upon the droplets Of melting frost That lie throbbing Upon the vanishing wonderland And die alone Upon the barren wasteland Much like the soldiers Like Death I stumble down the alleyway Past the garbage and decay And death But I find death stands out from all the rest As I kneel beside one who is dead To catch my breath She is so still and satisfied It brings a question to my mind I am mystified For she remembers to me Two, who in life, are as she now lies Peaceful, without strife Happy, without care Me and my lover Like death Calm, not obsessed And as I gaze into the dead woman’s face An enigma has been answered And I no longer fear death The Love Dream Over the rainbow In a far off galaxy Where the soft rains fall in a kaleidoscope of color But never touch the ground And the gentle breeze clutches up the worries And carries them far out over the endless sea And buries them deep in the ocean blue When you want—there is An island. An eternal realm of quietude and beauty Of golden sands that glisten in the never-ending starlight And giant palm trees that flourish and tower over all else. The moss covered trails, surrounded by fields of flowers, Lead from the wall of palms to the Fountain of Burgundy And then away into the darkness which is The Nothingness. The beauteous Fountain of Burgundy is a fall of red wine From a small precipice that juts out of the darkness And also disappears into the Nothingness. Wild grapes grow up the side of the precipice On the sides of the falling wine And orange trees, tangled in lianas, coupled with The mosses and ferns, surround the superficial Crimson Pool, While the magical blue-red light That illuminates the area in a shower of shadow and haze Comes from the mystic rock that forms the bottom of the pool. And the love and tenderness that is found On the golden sands, and by the Crimson Pool, In the fields of flowers, and in the Nothingness, Is what makes The Love Dream. Crecian Dames A stroll through the orchard Of banana groves and orange Green, lush Dark sky spotted yellow Full moon speckled orange A babe at his side This the sporty Crecian Dames His Spanish-American plantation Olympic pool at the side Area speckled tan With fifteen bikinied babes Lying on the cemented sand And all are in the favor Of the sporty Crecian Dames Upon the shores of Peru Beat the tattered waves Some of thirty foot size Atop them he would strive And fallen upon the coral Bravely he would die With no babes by his side This the sporty Crecian Dames The Prophet (a fantasy) Within a dark café The jangled rhythm Of a folk guitar And the oriental whine Of a bearded man’s sitar A prayer for those who pray A smile for those who play And the Lord beckons To those on the road to Mecca A step into the night And down a crowded sidewalk There is no one there With whom to talk And so A turn down A Bleeker Street Where suddenly he is beaten And pounded upon By a bearded man With a white virgin robe on A prophet in his own mind The beaten man was one Who took the road to Palestine He drank of the Lord’s wine And death he never feared And Jesus Christ wore a beard And as he says so The crowd looks on horrified And he dies Alone To Be All Alone Newcastle-upon-Tyne And a remorseful awakening Of memories Of a life now past Ashton-under-Lyne The seeds have been shaking From stories Whose morals had been cast Have you come to know her? A strikingly beautiful lady As she lies all alone At Weymouth & Malcombe Regis Reading the poems Of Percy Bysshe Shelley Collecting seashells And enjoying the sun And the saltwater smell Once an easy pick-up She was never stuck-up Never alone at night Never in the right Many have come to know her She sits In the end With her loneliness With the cool north wind As her only friend Eddystone Rocks And sea gulls A rose bush And pretense: fire For the stem Is the world Is the bush’s briar Photograph A spectrum painting Of entangled silhouette Enshrouded by lilac flowers and Orange trees in blossom white And the rays of an auburn sun were Photographed stabbing the Grandeur of the marigolds Through fields of incense ran we Hand in hand, knowing only One another, and not seeing The stately eagle forever flying We came to stop by a fountain and The wines flowed on and on And the clouds overhead never stopped But raced towards the horizon And we, having already reached The regal destination of our dreams We came to know each other, for We had captured the exquisite stillness as A Michelangelo sculpture and Life lasted forever, like the photograph To Nancy A woman, far lovelier than the Glorious reception of the rising sun Created in her sphere—a vision That vanquished the night itself Always shall it be—his love will flow In an everlasting stream To shatter the image And conquer the woman called Nancy A reigning queen Bathed in the golden rays Of God himself May it be that she accept his love forever Castle Enchanting: That green banks on Rhone waters Would hold visions of royalty In the Godliness of the church’s spire And that the mind of a man Would build a castle in the sand Knowing the ebb tide would rise Charming: That in the dreams of the man The mighty castle still stands Although submerged in the depths of the Rhone And in the presence of the church’s spire The man is not alone His god is with him now Robert A rose of majestic qualities Lived among its’ rosary By life was it filled Outside, the trees and flowers blossomed and Created a perfume that enhanced the senses But entangled within the web of beauty That signaled victory— A decaying weed Which came to mean the end of life Within the majestic rose Accordingly the tide flowed by And attempted to write the rose a eulogy Explaining its lost supremacy The withered rose itself would have said “Condemn not our ‘forest’, for had I Been within the ‘jungle’, where Seedlings are sent by us to die, I (too) Might have died long ago” Earth as a Background It masquerades as life In an obsolete orbit With a lull in the music For the wind was misplaced The animals erased A man now sits Beneath a naked tree Contemplating the debris Perhaps a trip to a museum But no, he need not see them The people have gone The artist’s misconception The colors would not blend So the man has now learned The Scorpion should have never returned The moon shines with life Understanding, the man sadly smiles Recalling memories, knowing the new life Will soon be mere remnants Statues remaining in the distance Fawn Is there any reason? Oh, no! I doubt it The rain comes forth exploding In bewildered shadows Taking the form of a baby brown fawn The Fawn of Camelot Taking time to read the section Only to find that the tale is unknown Of the raging fire In the love warmed sapphire eyes In which I walk alone Is there any reason? No, no! I doubt it Alone in the seaside cottage Deep in wandering thought No lapping waters, nor cooling breeze But the sunlight playing games Beneath the trees And to be damned by love’s eternal hope Now hoping it will leave Skunk Always saying something You’re telling me nothing I have seen in my eyes The face of a silver star Showing me the way It is quite all right I am here to stay All the pearls in the sea Have been washed upon me While I laugh at the fool Who stands in the rain Love never came Exciting is the universe Demanding is the world And to have seen the sun dying Caught your loved one lying You cry, only to find That dead is the chosen one Who collaborates and reasons Then gloriously hides away Conquests (over Simple Sanderson and the Wretched Establishment) Fantasy I’ve turned around Always facing towards the East And am soon flooded by darkness And hidden by illusions And shadows that are not there Mellow green fish Seem to kiss my unawareness As I climb through the webbery The robbery of not being there Only to sleep and spin… …Awake in a meandering stream My joyous exuberance of life Swims farther out to sea (While within the feeling of not being I’m safe within the fact of all knowing) Truth The color crinalaryan Is born exultingly with the new While “they” fatedly suckle the Psalm And ultimately perish “They?” cannot understand Why the crinalaryan Spring leaves Reach out and capture me And give birth to a world That is painted with love Speak of Love Speak of love Then tear my heart apart As the rain of a thousand centuries Comes pouring down on me And I never get a start For I must go Far, far away To join the storm of virgin snow Where I, too, will change to red Beneath the sunset’s icy glow Without you My world would be to die But, you know, I’d still miss you so! I’ve got to stay and be with you I’m never going to go So, hey, Cindy! Let’s go down to Tiffany’s Pick out a diamond ring See how it feels! Oh, how my love for you is real! But for Dreadful Time Through Aegean blue and fields of green The children dance and sing And laugh and shout and make believe And gather flowers for the King Through the gates of the emerald court A festival second to none Such a joyous sight to feast upon When dukes and clowns both act as one And so on through the gentle night The revelry marches on With all the courtiers joining in And the good King smiling down upon But with all the happiness in the court There are some that still must work Serfs and vassals are the living dead And are treated like the dirt For under noon-high sun of brilliant glow The old ones work and sweat And pay dear homage to a king That they have never even met They scrape and dig to plow the land That is washed with drought or flood And live with pigs and human waste And eat anything that has red blood Now with splendid gifts of rhythm and rhyme The royal Queen kneels down And tells of tales of Norwegian myth To all the children gathered ‘round She tells how solemn Asgard was How it lived with impending doom How it was grief and fate, time and space But how freedom always loomed Because of the fury of the peerless gods Odin, Thor, and the warrior Tyr Righteousness came close to victory For freedom was all they ever held dear So upon the sight of the living dead The children’s eyes present a tear And now in their minds obsessed with joy Revolution seems very near So with grand illusions of Odin and Thor And joyous freedom as their dream From all over that dreadful land The children gather and gaily scheme And pay their tribute to undaunted youth To silently overthrow the King And pledge their sincere loyalty To all the happy songs they sing Through Aegean blue and fields of green More children dance and sing The other ones have all grown old And wait to see what death will bring Through Aegean blue and fields of green The children dance and sing And laugh and shout and make believe And gather flowers for the King Dream of the Scot The young Scot was in the bedroom Dressing in his best blue jeans Caught up in his dreams Wearing the smile he wears When greeting people on the street He goes into the kitchen Takes out a bag of tangerines Leaves his cup of butter cream And then he goes to do All the things he wants to Bye, bye, baby He’s leaving you today You always knew he would You took his dreams away The young wife is at the window Watching her husband walk away She doesn’t try to make him stay But a tear runs down her cheek And she clutches her baby and weeps The lonesome young Scot turns lightly Delaying at a Liverpool hotel And calls softly in his sleep “Don’t you worry little Thor I now love your mother much more” Bye, bye, baby He has left you today You always knew he would You took his dreams away Juggernaut For me, the sun refuses to rise Yet it rises The crowned tulips and fresh green leaves Of a spring day That cherish the earth with splendor and majesty Are foreign to me The tortoise that lives and lives and lives Then all too soon perishes Is something that wallows in forgotten memories The juggernaut that is life has pushed on I have tasted the fruit of life A silver green lemon The sad part is to have loved Then to have watched that loved one die The sad part is to have had a flower for joy And then to have watched that flower die I yet wait to taste a ripened sweet fruit Meanwhile, the juggernaut that is life Has passed me by Laurie She is dead And now I feel I can’t go on She was the love that Comes in the Spring Riding in on the gentle breeze She floated down from heaven And made her home in the meadow She wore the smile of one who loves And made all who gazed upon that smile Laugh and dance and flood the world with happiness She was the universe The beauty of an exploding nova Filling the dauntless cosmos with warmth And tenderness She was all that is beautiful Without the magic of her blazing fire-filled eyes The nectar sweet flowers Would have bent with the weight Of a never ending rain She was the goddess supreme The one that vanquished Venus And sent her hurtling to the netherworld Sprawling with shame, for Venus was not The most beautiful being in existence But now she’s dead And I feel I can’t go on Orb Sweet caresses from heaven, Blessed and sacred, seemingly filled with love, Lead the life of those who drink the wine and out do their mind, And strive to reach the status. But comes a Man Who stands For all fiery Hell on the status quo. And written words backed by the masses, That shape all classes because They were accepted by those before, Is beyond the Man’s comprehension. A borealis of fire and freedom on the Fourth, And yet now when He strives for A new way of life He is put down By the orb of authority. It flashes across a message of bungle-jyme and faded rhyme. Have to go some place else to find the answer.