Fall from the nest ... , bon voyage .. bon chance ... c'est la vie ... comme il faut?

king of microwave



forge ahead ahab kill the mighty white beast

and wander ishmael for a thousand years

ten thousand times to cut and strip the blubber

of the great white fish not knowing its vulnerability

fiddle and fumble as we do

who would ever expect we might succeed

and succeed so well that we kill off

that from which we live?



we will make no more microwaves

in the city of industry here

in these acres and acres of wheels and gears

from the throbbing and pounding

the great heart has seized

and a resounding silence has come



and i used to seek the night in its cool, crisp shadows

and now it seeks me with its burning heart

from celestial calm to a kind of human fever

i think now i cannot escape and wonder when the change came

and why?

what drove me from my stillness to this madness?

and i think it could have been a dream

what business have we made

to frighten so our souls?



i want to pretend the great metal presses

are really giant cookie cutters

they cut and print in chocolate and peanut butter

and i imagine i am not a part of all that i see

and only a silly dreamer



the clear cool night used to suckle me

in all the persons that I think I am

hidden deep within - singular voices cry out

I am your child I am your mother I am dad

and now the night hums like many factories

and because i have seen the forming machines

churning-out microwaves in the city of industry



i now see the thirty-ton press

driven by the broad belts

and the wheels and the bulbous off-center cam

that swings around and around driving the cutting blade

lending it its mighty momentum

the sheets of metal placed

and the great clutch engaged

the blade comes down, striking and forming

bending the steel to drive one crease

into some engineer’s blueprint

of the now common household appliance



the hum and roar the clank and hiss

hands scampering in and out like sea crabs

in and out as the blade rises and falls

in when the light turns green

out when the light turns red

and now an infrared beam stops the blade

if hands are slow or wrong

the times are mostly past of fingerless and armless men and women

in the world of microwave

this is a mutation and adaptation to the times

of the smoke stack industry to the realization

that this is bad for business



a simple rhythm gathered from a universe of forms

so simple for progress to be made

all geared-in as we are and so to speak

and wondering if it is our nature

that drives us on



and so one day when unfurled in my daily purpose

and wearing the uniform of industry

i pass the king of microwave

the real estate signs are up and the windows dark

weeds high around the once grand porticoes

the trades have descended like big birds

to feed upon the dead

not judging, merely supplanting

the signs saying ask for jack or nellie

boarded shut the jobs are gone

the air whistles through the naked boards

and the flash and thunder of the night is stilled

now and forever



i come to seek my self as i always do almost as a stranger

and i’m not so sure he speaks to me this time

he’s been heavily laid-upon this once-thought immortal one

and i learn it’s harder to go back

than to just plunge ahead, onward, farther

flowing down the stream



and somewhere amidst this cascading water course

i’m catapulting down along the pristine and demure mountainside

there is an icy-eyed one that’s leaping up

leaping and diving up and ever up

how can this be? this fish is marvelous

he obeys celestial law and swims a thousand miles

as if it were an inch because it’s all in the motivation

all in the commitment of the heart



we ask what natural purpose we are heir to

we say we explore the limits of the mind

we teach we move and climb with method

with skill and direction and i wonder

the rust and dust

the broken homes and handless men

and countless stories simply untold

don’t they scream a muted cry

if we listen once into the silence?



so what crime to say what future comes?

what violation to say we’ve come this way before?

what, a felony to say we have alone ourselves?

one broad and eternal moment that never changes?

what madness to gaze upon a clear, still night

to consider what the condition of my heart?

Fall from the nest ... , bon voyage .. bon chance ... c'est la vie ... comme il faut?
It's quite unique.

But it is hard to read in places also.

Nice:)
Reply:Shall print it out and read it again...rather fascinating I'd say.
Reply:Wow - this is awesome (this is my little joke!)

It is a marathon task to read - and we citizens of the 2lst Century lead busy lives....hark to the students who say 'Can you read this for me' tell me what it says, I've got 10 questions I must answer - written about a four verse poem.



For those of you with busy lives - leave them for a moment and read this. You won't regret it - but, boy you will be so jealous. Talent doesn't come around like this very often - so let's just make sure he doesn't get away.



(Maybe you could divide this up and spoon feed us - I, II, III)

flip flop