A set of poems about this past weekend.

M. Murphy’s Lost Weekend

Prologue

I was never enough
To get what I wanted
But was too much
To have things I didn’t.

-------

I have thusly forgotten the necessity of society.
It is unlikely I will ever forget
But I find it hard to remember.

I am, at best, lysergic in my actions.
My journey was long. I passed
Prisons, napalm, decrepit police stations, Betsy Ross, LOVE.

Having crawled, cracked, I set off:

My shoes,
Now not unlike battered veal or thawed cod,
Are worthless.

I tried to sleep on roof asphalt
And drink sublimated caffeine
My eyes became a video recorder
Unable to adequately record –
I had to think in Polaroids.

I could not understand the notion of brotherhood
I cannot stand the potion of Hollywood
But I stayed regardless.

My hair is falling out in clumps
I think I thought I had the mumps,
But then I grew up.

I quit three times,
I am St. Peter
And Judas at once.

My travels taught me little,
Though my stillness, nitrogened,
Life-fuelled,
Made me REALISE

I belong. For once.

Twice I died. Praise the Lord!


I was as odds with my brothers and sisters,
But giant, walking red-black hammers,
Sealed by my signature,
Mashed things into ORDER.

I heard their eyes of distrust
And I used my hands of hope to
Create harmony.

------

I was met by the
Lady of Shallot today –
She tried to kill herself
Just because I was plain.

------

Palm Sunday

Life is death,
Tristan told Isolde.
At some point,
I was inside
Wagner’s head.

I could feel the French horns
I could see the chromaticism
And taste the transcendentalism

I trusted them,
Eventually,
With my life.
I was greeted with
Honour.

This day resulted in
Rebirth, reborn
In ME, me
Of all people
I am adorned with patience and power
Patience, paysun.

Mary for breakfast
Lucy for lunch,
Jesus and palms for supper –
Past and future controlled by my
Edification.

In my mind my
Father greeted me
He couldn’t see
This debauchery.

Is it not strange
To let down & come through
With the same act?
It no longer phases me.

I am space.
I am the black hole.
I eat emotions
And produce …

This day has new valence
I count as 1+1=3
My trinity is not Holy,
But wholly reverent.