Apotheosis - The Journal of the Poetic Genius Society







	NOV / DEC 2003

TABLE OF CONTENTS - POETRY

Chime of Time - Daniele Pinna
The Yen for Yang- Robin Hammer
God Almighty Watch Over Them – Ryan Lamont Sloan
The Hold - Wallace W. Rhodes
Mientes - Jorge González
Ode to the Down to Earth Genius - Brian Johnson
Say Goodbye to the Red Phenix - Chaim Horovits
Yes Yes Yes Si Si Si Ja Ja Ja Oui Oui Oui - Paul Nachbar
Calculus Poem - Paul Nachbar
The Prime thats the Product of Primes- Jonathan Marin
Poetic Nosferatu - Ngoc Nguyen
Seasonal Dress - Thomas G. "Torg" Hadley
Haiku of the Day Nov 13 - Karin Lindgren
Amorphous Analyses - Thomas Hadley
Ear Haiku - Robin Hammer
Blondes Brunettes and Redheads - Paul Payton
Signal - Karin Lindgren
Glory - Ngoc Nguyen
Holiday Haiku - Cheri Ramberg
Stir Villanelle - Karin Lindgren
Human Potential- Paul Nachbar
"Happy Thanksgiving" - Paul Nachbar
Many a Battle Is - Paul Nachbar
If All Were Honest- Paul Nachbar
Happy Thanksgiving - Paul Nachbar
Dawn Comes - Dusty Rhodes
Glimmering Silver - Dusty Rhodes
Toilet Bowl Muse - Ngoc Nguyen
Charlotte Corday - Karin Lindgren
Morning Dove - Karin Lindgren
The Fireside - Wallace W. Rhodes
The Christmas Wreath - Mark Norman
Outdoor Lights - Karin Lindgren
On Poets and Their Poetry - Paul Nachbar
Crimson on Green - Thomas Hadley
Nocturne - Daniele Pinna
I Do - Paul Nachbar
On Man - Paul Nachbar

Chime of Time - Daniele Pinna

People come, people go;
Time comes, time is, time goes.
I dream of a pasture there was once;
but now no more;
I dream of people I knew once;
but now I know no more.

As wind turns trees into restless seas;
the chime of time chimes no more.

For when time comes and time goes;
the self I knew lives no more.

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The Yen For Yang - Robin Hammer

An oyster shell opens to a tiny grain of sand
A woman's heart envelopes the grittiness of a man
A flower's face will follow the sojourn of the sun
An amused gaze watches a cat spookd by no one

A leaf will offer applause when the wind wanders the sky
A wake of perfume triggers melodies in the mind's eye
A sunset signals the colors that it's time to go to bed
A mother's bosom beckons where one can lay his head

An ant trudges tirelessly in a never ending train
A need to nurture another is the distaff's domain
A touch of time blurs the line 'tween the eaters and the eaten
A woman's love makes you rise above when you feel soundly beaten

A birth and death process leaves many moves in between
A mate awaits for you and me whose identity can't be forseen
A myriad of choices offered, yet one becomes the selection
A man can't live his life alone- without woman there is no perfection

God Almighty, Watch Over Them – Ryan Lamont Sloan

The hot days
on the sands of Babylon
bear down
on our daughters and our sons.
The shadowy figures,
who lie in wait,
bring their rocks and their guns
and their bile and their hate.
It is our young
who shed their blood in this fight
It is our young
who are in combat for life
and liberty
and the pursuit of happiness:
Things for which
we all take for granted.
It is now
that we raise our voices and call upon Him:
"God Almighty,
over our troops, watch over them."

The Hold - Wallace W. Rhodes

The roaring engines, the driving rods, the ever moving shaft.
The turning screw, the hearty men, the onward moving craft.
How hot this hold;
These men how bold
With bodies of grease and sweat.
Inside they're cold;
These men so bold.
They curse and drink to forget.
But when they're gone
The ship moves on,
But memories linger yet.
But at life's end,
And only then
They'll be free from toil and sweat.

The dashing waves the foaming brine, they beat the sturdy hull.
The salty air, the golden sun, the drifting of the gull.
How free this air,
Beyond compare,
Which men in the hold can't smell.
It's always there,
This salty air,
And so is that hold of hell.
But that's their fate,
And so fine mate
You can rot, and burn, and sweat,
The ship will sail on,
It will know you're gone,
But the rest will all forget.

Mientes - Jorge González

Proverbios
que silencian el horizonte.

No hay afluente
que no nazca
de tu mar profundo.

Mientes si halagas,
no hay prohombres
que persigan el cuerpo
de tu amado ser.

Fatigas que se precian
de no ser alas
de un tiempo de arena,
damas que ahogan
la mañana
en un estanque de dagas.

Ode to the “Down to Earth” Genius - Brian Johnson

It is good to give God praise
For the mental agility he bestows
But it is unwise to ever think
That it is your own strength
That brings about such blessings
Or that you “deserve it”

The world is ever watchful
To see how we behave
To some, genius has become
Synonymous with “asshole”
It should not be thus

It should occur to us that we are all
Children of his grace
And his pleasure
The smart
The challenged
The strong
The feeble
The ambitious
The lazy
They who are “easy on the eyes”
They who are not
God’s children
God’s children one and all

What have you done today?
To bless your fellow man?
Heaven help the one
Who fellowships and feasts
With one’s intellectual friends
And then merely brags about it

Can a man or woman
Brag over chance or dumb luck?
And try to take the credit?
Better still to keep one’s mouth shut
Then hurt the ones we love
With our condescension

Let us ever be mindful
That “down to earth genius”
Is the best kind

(Translation) Say Goodbye to the Red Phoenix - Chaim Horovits

Running to the west,
chasing the red sunset,
chasing the beauty,
the truth.

I look at you while you fade away,
I give you my last breath,
my last hope...

As the sun disappears into the endless sea,
I know you'll rise again.

Yes Yes Yes Si Si Si Ja Ja Ja Oui Oui Oui - Paul Nachbar

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
Doing our happy little knowledge worker thing
We went to one or another college
To accumulate one kind or another of knowledge
Though we are both peasants here and kings.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We devote ourselves endlessly to technique
We bend over backwards to do what we wouldn't do
Or else we'd lose everything within a week
Of more than this, we cannot speak.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We are stable, well-adjusted and secure
We have read the best reports of the best experts
And are quite certain that we can endure
We like to keep our knowledge pure.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
Our other culture is of course antique
We work so hard, are never shirkers
Though we are replaceable within a week
Well, smile here when you call me geek.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We would have liked perhaps to have been anything else
The abstract dilemna here of system and self
Well perhaps quite better here than soda workers
To be a bunch of knowledge workers.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
And content ourselves with our minor quest
We are part of some team that we hope is good
And here it is good, better best
The rest here mostly unexpressed.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We do not know from whence we are coming or whence we are knowing
It is very important here that we make a showing
Because at all times the winds of change are blowing
And who wants to get caught up outside when it is snowing?

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
And like to keep things tidy and precise
We sent out memos to make sure that all is nice
Because we know that all our labors have a price
Ah, to sit in some small corner and just eat rice.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We shall work our tails from sunup to sundown
If we do not do these tasks we shall certainly drown
Although this world will turn us upside down
Or make us feel a pervert, fool or clown.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
How easy here to get so angry or get sad
How easy here to go off or get inordinately mad
In which case amidst the endless inspections
There will be a series of due corrections.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We are hard-working folks, we are not shirkers
Our lives so coated here with misery
That all of us drift off into a fantasy
Or fantasize so bold about our destiny.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
We cut reality here into a thousand little pieces
And tie the whole thing up with one bright thesis
And give all the profits to nephews and nieces
We are great warriors, we are not shirkers.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
Although one knows that reality often stinks
In which case we call in parades of shrinks
Or fill our bellies with exotic foods
Which pacify our somewhat bitter moods.

Yes we are happy little knowledge workers
And we are not unhappy to be in some parade
And some of us do and some of us dont' get laid
Though all of us feel so quite often just unmade
Shall I tie your hair into a braid?

Calculus Poem - Paul Nachbar

Integral of anguish....
Does anyone have time for this?
Derivitives of distress....
Can anything quite change
In all this mess?

The Prime that's the Product of Primes - Jonathan Marin

I've counted the hairs in Yahweh's beard,
And become the perfect unbreakable code.
At infinite speed I bear infinite load
And mock every danger that men ever feared.
I am the prime that's the product of primes.

I'm the secret address of the rainbow's gold pot.
I'm the number of angels who dance on a pin.
I'm the R-P-M speed of a U-F-O's spin
And the Mercator gridding of Gaia's G-spot.
I am the prime that's the product of primes.

I'm the angular circle, the square with five sides
I've slept in the lair of the Unicorn.
I can tell you the date we will all be reborn,
And where one hand clapping's echo resides.
I am the prime that's the product of primes.
I am the prime that's the product of primes.

Poetic Nosferatu - Ngoc Nguyen

Sun, like boric acid on naked skin,
burns my Sturm und Drang conscience
the way searing heat and uv radiation cooks
tender flesh, so ready for my desperate
comsumption, like some adult male lion
devouring a fatted she-goat already
pregnant with its unborn young still
inside of it.

With each victim--when it is all over
with--I pray for mercy, for the same
mercy I did not show them.

Seasonal Dress - Thomas G. "Torg" Hadley

(Angels draw nearer, now, my light a bit brighter than before, my struggle less serious, my aloneness not so sharp anymore,
whispers of possibilities enter my spirit's ears,
the Divine cradles me, gives me courage
dissipates my child-like fears
I continue on my journey, now
more confident than yesterday
everyone around me, like you,
I see, may help me, and I they,
along the Way).

Haiku of the Day Nov.13 - Karin Lindgren

Onyx equinox -
summer leaves space in the cold
blue stars shivering

Hair Haiku - Karin Lindgren

Spit curl: question mark,
hook dangling on pickup line,
fishing for a heart.

Amorphous Analyses - Thomas Hadley

if Descartes' dualism reigns supreme
things are just exactly what they seem
to be/not be, then focus-frozen existentially
in ones moment is the Acme of theatricality.

the lesbian Thespian pranced, then hunkered
upon the Stage, so light, yet so brawny
she took my breath away, her hug of lust
so disparaging---my ego echoed off the walls

her gravity drew me eyes into blackest pupils
pierce-punching holes in the Kosmick Veil

i looked deeply into them,
seeing only then other side
realizing the odd new view
was just the back of me Head.

Ear Haiku - Robin Hammer

Shimmering earrings
bekoning for a whisper
piercing with perfume

Blondes, Brunettes, and Redheads - Paul Payton

Blonde, thy lure beckons.
Swirling sense in flaxen curls,
Hearts in girlish wiles.

Love's hue is darkness
Mystery spanned midst thin strands
Of her amber silk

Rich fire-maned beauty,
Copper skitters your tresses.
Soft, warm lambent waves.

Signal - Karin Lindgren

Signal of distress ...
Morse code from frost-nipped grass roots ---
the last glimmer worm ...

Glory - Ngoc Nguyen

O glorious God! - Ngoc Nguyen
How beautiful thine image,
full of light and heat!

Holiday Haiku - Cheri Ramberg

So much food spread out
How splendid the table
Full of hips and chins

Stir (Villanelle) - Karin Lindgren

I walk through chambers of your heart and find
you shut down like a penitentiary.
What prisoners do time in your barred mind?

I see the sullen doors that have confined
your solitary secrets. With no key,
I walk through chambers of your heart and find

resentment serving life, vendettas lined
up for the chain gang, plotting to set free
what prisoners do time in your barred mind.

Condemned convictions at hard labor grind
the heavy chips you shoulder. Cautiously,
I walk through chambers of your heart and find

the execution room, a warrant signed,
a chair whose arms are opening for me.
What prisoners do time in your barred mind?

How will they violate parole? Maligned,
I'm at the threshold of eternity.
I walk through chambers of your heart and find
what prisoners do time in your barred mind.

Human Potential - Paul Nachbar

With infinite work
And an enormous IQ
Above average

"Happy Thanksgiving" - Paul Nachbar

"Happy Thanksgiving"
Said Pilgrim to the Turkey:
"You think way too much"

Many a Battle Is - Paul Nachbar

Many a battle is
Won by sleeping on a couch
While they get killed.

If All Were Honest - Paul Nachbar

If all were honest
And did what they wanted to
What would be achieved?

Happy Thanksgiving - Paul Nachbar

Happy Thanksgiving
I am most grateful for my
Nagging appetites.

Dawn Comes - Dusty Rhodes

Dawn comes gray and bleak.
Its tears touch my window pane.
Forbodes life's last day.

Glimmering Silver - Dusty Rhodes

Glimmering silver,
Moonlight, winter, rimy lea.
Endless sea of grass.

Toilet Bowl Muse - Ngoc Nguyen

It is very humbling to have to use the toilet,
Can you imagine it? Even world leaders like the U.S. President,
the Pope, or the Queen of England have to sit on one of these, I bet.
And--I mean no disrespect--our dignitaries, too, can be full of excrement.

Charlotte Corday - Karin Lindgren

Look at me, Paris! Tell me what you see:
the tumbrel, stained with offal from the hogs
sold at Les Halles as I dreamed my last dream?
Or do you see my chestnut tresses brush
the neckline of my red assassin's dress?
Or do you see my neck, imagining
a red line made by the descending blade?
Listen, Paris! This is what I see:
You, cobbler, with your thumbnails hammered flat,
a proud grandfather fifteen years from now
because you have outlived Jean-Paul Marat,
who would have sent you where I go today.
You, seamstress, mother of three darling girls
more dimpled than the thimble in your purse,
for you woke from a nightmare named Marat,
whose Terror would have cut your lifethread short.
What fools you are to mourn L'Ami du peuple!
Some People's Friend! He wanted France to drown
in blood, in Frenchmen's blood, in all your blood.
Of France he would have made a cemetery
that stretched from Strasbourg to St. Jean de Luz,
a graveyard from Marseille to St. Malo.
These things you do not see and will not see,
for I have slain that dragon named Marat.
You did not know him, since you saw the lies
he published in the journals as the truth.
You should have seen him splashing in his bath.
You would have read the evil on his skin ...
The seams, the scabs, the scars! The horror of him!
You would have thought he looked like a great toad,
with poison seeping from his every pore.
You should not look at those two wooden arms
which hold the honed triangle of steel aloft,
for that is but a jamb without a door,
and it will shut you out once I pass through.
See my blue eyes, my white neck, my red dress.
Look at me, France, and see my gift to you:
your future flag that waves you on toward grace.

Morning Dove - Karin Lindgren

Mourning dove couple
perched on swaying power line
dancing beak to beak

The Fireside - Wallace W. Rhodes

Whilst I watch the ember die,
And nod my head in rapt content;
The reveries that I once spent
Return as a silent sigh.

Tokens of the days of yore;
Now life is but an ashen coal,
Where once burned a fiery soul.
Tis' now but some forgotten lore.

Old age has sent its burdened yoke.
The ember creaks, beguiled delight,
And into the dark cold wintry night,
Life disappears as a whisp of smoke.

The Christmas Wreath - Mark Norman

The Christmas wreath is hung
year after year, from a small tack
tapped into the door's cracked panel.
A wreath so faded, with only the remnants of candles

Hung so silently, no longer lit
patted it in place by her old weathered hands.
So numbed by the cold, but that too,
also part of Christmases past.

Her sigh, a winter's breath by frail heart
eased for one moment, by echoes of thought
of children's gleeful laughter
and wrapping paper store bought

Only one tear, one wistful thought
before the door closed upon
the phantoms of memories sought
of yet another Christmas soon to be naught.

Outdoor Lights - Karin Lindgren

When we tacked strings of lights to the roof's edge,
we wrestled Noah's rainbow down to Earth.
All but forgotten was the ancient pledge ...
See what a promise etched in light is worth!

Night's vivid visions dropped from every eave
and showed sneak previews of upcoming dreams
as warm hues came into our house to weave
a comforter of multicolored beams.

Like great, gray doves, clouds flew to their new roost -
a nest of eggs - red, yellow, green and blue.
A flock of fledgling sunbirds would be loosed
from their shells when beams as sharp as beaks pecked through.

Christmas is a magician; night, the hat
from which it pulls silk scarves that glow and swirl
until I backflip like an acrobat
and I grow down to be a little girl.

On Poets and Their Poetry - Paul Nachbar

It rarely ever pays for much
I mean, to be laconic
Some say you're quite intelligent
While others say, just chronic.

Crimson on Green - Thomas Hadley

Through me window I spy
Four red, red rhododendron blossoms
Setting out ‘pon ever dark green leaves
'Tis two days afore Christmastide, ye see
Yet so faire o’ blossoms greet me green eyes
Just recently dried o’ hotsaltears
The Stage sits darkened
the Play has run…

me play at Magick’s over for now and anon
Bereft of such vivifying electricity
I am adrift in an afterglow following
Upon such a wrenching, bleeding, a
Tearing of the Soul whilst portraying
Marley’s Ghost
And the Specter of Things to Come…

So short is the Day, the Hour upon the Stage
So fragile, also, our brave faces and
Our tattered hearts, battered Souls,
So wounded are we some-times…so much older
Yet, even so, on Winter’s shortened day
A red, red blossom in gray greenlight does glow!

So, I shall be, I swear it;

By Grace, I shall make it so!

So, I shall be, I swear it;

By Grace, I shall make it so!

Nocturne - Daniele Pinna

A snowflake on a mountain;
a snowflake on a hill;
a cypress in the shadows
swallows all its guilt.

A tender tear of mourn
dribbles along the cheek.
It will round about the chin
and forever it shall sink.

Past a looted heart,
down an abyssed soul,
through a long-lost glee:
infinity as its goal.

It will carry all the guilt,
and contain all its woe.
It will freeze, it will still:
in the end it will be snow!

A snowflake is a drop;
a long-forgotten tear.
It will trick our naive hearts:
all our feelings it shall smear.

Makes us tremble deep inside;
turn our eyes and stare ourselves.
Awake again all that had died:
every glee and every spell.

We lose our very thoughtful us,
every bit of self-control.
In that misty soft-cloud snuff,
our soul pays a fatal toll.

What was whole now liquefies,
slowly steams and rises high,
condenses on our startled eyes
and once again, down it flies.

Just like hope is never lost,
and no feelings by us killed,
we can't inert that crystal frost:
that tearful snowflake on a hill.

I Do - Paul Nachbar

I do respect
Or love or hate
Or even fear
The Mind
And every
Human part';

But what is
Mind
Comparing with
The infinite
Chambers
Of
The human heart.?

On Man - Paul Nachbar

He is completely innocent
He is to blame for everything
His calm yet total discontent
An utter peasant yet a king
Oh what was said and what was meant?
And does it mean a single thing?
Ah here one works to pay the rent
And that is most of everything

The moral is, you wanted what?
To be a man and something more
Perhaps you ended up quite less
Who knows what's what in all this mess?
The poets weep or just confess
They always did since it began
And preachers sell one happiness
In goodness towards one's fellow man.
Or else behaviors for some God
Invisible...yet life IS odd?..
Some see the truth between her thighs
Perhaps here all of it is lies?

Perhaps there is just little True
Please tell us here what we should do
We want some leadership that's New
Always this way since things began
The walking paradox of man
The mighty nothingness of man.

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