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Poet of the Moment
The Poet of the Moment for this issue is:
Kevin Calaguiro
Toronto, Ontario
I am currently attending Ryerson University in the big city of Toronto and will be entering the Theatre Programme in the Fall of 2002. I have been writing for about a year now and I will be published on the online e-zine, VerseLibre, within the month.
Hollywood Happened
We all look to the west to find the milk and honey
To a land that was supposed to fall off a few years back
And we smile in the faces of the famous
And ponder their existence
And wonder what it is
Where stardom is bequeathed to children
Regardless of talent
What's in a name, I ask
A home in the hills, one on the coast
Maybe another on the other
And probably a scandal to devour
To make it all the better
For us or for Them?
We see their faces on the red carpet
In Gucci and Prada and stretched skin
They have their divorces and affairs
And we read about them in the morning paper
And wonder what happened
Because they seem to be the picture of perfection
Catwalks right up to my backdoor
Girls with faces of angst over legs of shine
They say it's the time of your life
With two fingers on a cigarette
And a couple more down their throat
We have a problem in sight and fixation in flight
When we delight in another struggle and plight
And we look for flaws in the famous we follow
Some fallacies to find to relate it back home
And to what's known
We all want our fifteen minutes of fame
Something sweet, without the shame
We all want a life of ease
Some trick to bring an audience to its knees
In our living rooms and kitchen tables
Admiring a comment penned by a publicist
Who's not the right size or the right look
Or the right hackneyed, trite, overzealous,
Conniving, self-centered masochist
With big teeth or lips or wallet
We are forever transfixed on Hollywood
But it seems that all the Milk wood and Silk wood is Poisonwood
That we continue to burn in the fireplaces of our homes
With the television tuned to the match
The Epitome of the Sublime
I could be a Sublime Tuesday
I could be a stomach of plenty
The Sublime
Minds absorb enormity
In the disciples I see you
In the aesthetic I see me
And the stomach of a food mongrel
With the Sublime
Work outside the human scale
No matter the philosophies
Return in possession
Sublime
Niagara Falls
Immense cataract of water
Spilling out before tragic hotel fronts
And shoddy gift shops
A hurricane will cause trouble
She is brewing hate
Blowing terror
To clear a path
Horrify the streets
Move breathlessly in smoke
Warmed in the walk
By fire to light eyes and Crosses
The Scribbling of a Wannabe
Turn it up
Says the robes
Feel the truth
He yells
Over a congregation
Hands raised
To the ceilings
Of Heaven
Turn it up
Says the light
Feel the faith
He chants
Over a church
Eyes believing
Knees benched
In holy aspiration
Turn it up
Says the holy man
Turn it up
And burn it
In the glory
In the name
And we all want him
In us
Turn it up
Feel the grief
Over eyes ablaze
In depths unknown
This hole
Of minds
It is not filled with him
Not in eat
Not in drink
Not with assistance
Take a faith
Reject the book
And the scrawl
The scribbling of a wannabe
Turn it up
Seek an answer
You and I and He
We are
All Gone
I'll speak my mind
In the rooms of my head
In the confines of static
Between ears
With my light
I will walk
I may not make it there
Before this fire burns my skin
The American Flag
I think you better pay attention
to the chapters in my life
I am writing a story of animation
in a frantic world
of taxi cabs
and airplanes
and the Taliban
I think we have got to pay attention
to the chapters of these months
It will be written in the record books
It has replaced precious records
Made a world frantic
with children celebrating in the streets
with sand over their bodies
while a nation has dust over city blocks
I think they better pay attention
to the unwritten chapters of America
It will be a haze of bombs and guns
And tombs and flags in the wind
Waving patriotically amidst pandemonium
with hands clenched
with faces grim
And lives far from life as it was
But nevertheless
the American flags will wave
In winds of tragedy
Hollywood Happened
We all look to the west to find the milk and honey
To a land that was supposed to fall off a few years back
And we smile in the faces of the famous
And ponder their existence
And wonder what it is
Where stardom is bequeathed to children
Regardless of talent
What's in a name, I ask
A home in the hills, one on the coast
Maybe another on the other
And probably a scandal to devour
To make it all the better
For us or for Them?
We see their faces on the red carpet
In Gucci and Prada and stretched skin
They have their divorces and affairs
And we read about them in the morning paper
And wonder what happened
Because they seem to be the picture of perfection
Catwalks right up to my backdoor
Girls with faces of angst over legs of shine
They say it's the time of your life
With two fingers on a cigarette
And a couple more down their throat
We have a problem in sight and fixation in flight
When we delight in another struggle and plight
And we look for flaws in the famous we follow
Some fallacies to find to relate it back home
And to what's known
We all want our fifteen minutes of fame
Something sweet, without the shame
We all want a life of ease
Some trick to bring an audience to its knees
In our living rooms and kitchen tables
Admiring a comment penned by a publicist
Who's not the right size or the right look
Or the right hackneyed, trite, overzealous,
Conniving, self-centered masochist
With big teeth or lips or wallet
We are forever transfixed on Hollywood
But it seems that all the Milk wood and Silk wood is Poisonwood
That we continue to burn in the fireplaces of our homes
With the television tuned to the match
If you have gotten this far, i thank-you kindly.