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Introduction

 

The 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.

 

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