The Too Tall Kansas (Sidhi) Turtle Tale: And Other Poems, Pics, and Stories

By David J. Marks

The Turtle Tale I created driving between my permanent home in Oregon and Med School in Missouri. I dont actually use drugs as the Tale seems to indicate (F.Y.I.). I have a body of work that is sitting around, so I hit on the idea of an Anthology. I hope this clears my desktop and I can get on with my life. The poetry was something I did as an undergraduate. The prose is more recent. The pics again are undergraduate work. The prose is mostly more recent. Ive pretty much moved on from poetry to prose. But I have always believed in these poetries. The Hare Krishna pics are ancient history, but there was a time when I liked that sort of thing. I hope I used the word Sidhi correctly. It should mean something like catharsis or epiphany. Again, my Sanskrit is languishing in these latter days.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465314901

David J. Marks

I was born in Oregon. But Dad got drafted so we lived at the various navy bases on the west coast (USA). I have 5 siblings. Camp Pendleton was a lot of fun for a bunch of Navy brats. I attended East Bremerton High School and Goethe Gymnasium in Regensburg, Germany as an AFS exchange student. I attended Portland State University earning a B.S. (Biology), an M.A.T. (Biology), a B.A. (Psychology) and a M.S.T. (Chemistry). I taught high school science in Portland, Oregon and some time in Honduras. I tried medical school several years but quit that. Now I am retired and only work part time.

Book preview

The Too Tall Kansas

(Sidhi) Turtle Tale

and Other Poems, Pics, and Stories

David J. Marks

Copyright © 2008 by David J. Marks.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Rainbow Tribe

The Flip Side

Thoughts Across The Abyses of Space Here From Beyond The Absolute Toothe

Jesse

Loomis’ Dad’s Death

Death Aftermath

Thieves Afoot

The Too Tall Kansas (Sidhi) Turtle Tale

Rainbow Tribe

Many have begun to frown,

then found themselves in a poetry town.

So loosen up and come around

and just hear the bountiful love

that goes with this sound.

Everything is beautiful

      in its own way.

At least that’s what this one song

      is trying to say.

If I had it my way

      it might be

Everything is beautiful

      any old way.

Lying in the sand

covering your hand.

Covering your hand

      with the sand

      in the land of Germany.

Is it footsteps in the sand?

Is it something in the air?

Where, oh God, where?

Be gone time, go away!

Dreams and fantasy fades.

Reality itself evades.

Aren’t you glad I don’t see them 2 spades?

      . . . beautiful black orchids in

      the garden by the pool

      as seen by the artist through

      a clear fishing lure.

      Geese flying south and all that mystery…

      that long, long flight…

      how pleasant it must seem.

      Sort of collect every dream

      and make them your only right

      and don’t stop until it feels right.

      That’s how you know it

      when you come home.

      When you hit home?

      It’s all a poem.

      The rhyme says Rome wasn’t

            built in a day

            so say!

                  hey!

            come away!

      Do it this way!

      Do it that way!

      Today!

My poem is a life.

I make my poem my wife

and my wife a poem.

Like really good pot, it’s subtle.

Intellectual bullshit.

Intellectual bullshit.

Intellectual bullshit.

Let’s give the honey back to the bees

and the bees back to the trees.

Of course there is a river here!

What do you mean, is there a river?

Everybody run! Hide for cover!

      Ah, sweet lover.

      Come to me.

      Come to me life dream.

      Stream by me.

      Quickly. Gently. Deeply.

      Affect me

Intentions, intentions, intentions.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Abating, abating, abating.

Want nothing from other people.

Want positively, absolutely nothing.

But take every single BLEEP BLEEP

      BLEEP money loving penny

      they have to offer.

When you’re acting in a child’s picture book

      it has a different look.

When someone’s looking over your shoulder

      you feel a little older.

Dogs and babies are just too smart.

Don’t pin them down.

They’re always around.

Go inside your own head instead.

Now settle down and be dead.

Moo…

Now listen to this.

If you went up on a mountain

expecting to see God

and instead

found only this fog

that would indeed bog down

      the undisciplined man.

But what would you say

if I said

you don’t find lsd

it finds you instead?

Killing bugs left and right.

They are beginning to alight.

Everybody reaching for the approaching night.

I’m a real prophet in my own right.

Out of sight.

Is there a God?

There is if you believe there is.

There’s a bubble

very hard to express.

Come out of your dream,

            child.

Come out of your dream.

Though it may seem,

            child

(come out of your dream)

as though you were running

you might as well be

      standing still.

You might as well be leaving.

You might as well… believing.

Everything is swallowing

      everything else up.

Going through routines

      that get old real fast.

Principles are fences.

When you start to take them down

you will no doubt frown

            a little,

            perhaps,

            feel silly.

      (God, no! Not silly!)

and go on to the next book,

or perhaps a second look.

It’s a dog, not God.

Those? Those are people.

You? You’re a people.

It’s that simple.

Now why should that cause

      a dimple

      in your skin?

Say it again, please.

If you please me by seing it so.

How many people have you seen tripping?

Just the ones dripping along the sides?

      Instantly insane.

      What a dream.

      What a drain.

I’ve got to get down pat these punctuation marks.

I just amaze myself that I can still write the language.

A pack of KOOL’s

on this strand of the beach!

O’ how could they have ever reached

so far into the creature?

What are people doing?

What are they doing?

What are they doing?

What are people doing?

If you demand

& he stands on his hands

just as the plane lands

& you’re off on

the next page.

I’ve got you all mixed up, people.

I’ve got you all mixed up.

You’re nothing strange at all.

No, you’re more like atolls.

What once would have