Poems from Another Place

By Bruce A. Lundgren

ATB and ATA are the same.
Au does not have a particular ATB
Au just wants the Introduction as is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796055870

Bruce A. Lundgren

The compositions in this publication are a somewhat wild collection of diverse subjects, forms, rhyme, prose, lyrics and blank verse composed throughout my life. Poetry has always been enjoyable and inspiring to me. I was an English major before I dropped out of college and entered a program to train pilots to navigate on the U.S. inland waterway system. I held a USCG Masters License and U.S. Merchant Mariner Tankerman’s license for over twenty years. Rather than listen to the same songs repeatedly while working or traveling, I often had Spanish language tapes and tapes of Shakespeare and modern poets to inspire and entertain me, which I often committed to memory. A few of the poems were written as lyrics for songs I have composed while playing the guitar. Those usually take a more strict form with verse, chorus and rhyme. Having finally reached the official demographic of early old age, I challenged myself to organize and edit this publication- even paying to self-publish it- as an expression of my life, such as it is or has been. Growing up in Mississippi during the fifties and sixties, watching a cross burn, picking cotton, riding the river, studying in New York, working all over the south, having a family, fronting rock bands, living and working in Venezuela during the administration of Hugo Chavez- so many experiences in so short a time and witnessing so many changes- all work to produce a strange beast. It requires some sort of documentation, and I hope you find it worth the read.

Book preview

Smells

All these smells,

Lemon, rose, cinnamon, snuff…

Will sometimes open your olfactory hatbox

(groaning at the memory of that sugar

With no smell much but sweeter)

Of whom it was you knew

You once claimed, whenever that was

When you went off into all that unease,

That howled out everything like the wind

To no one’s notice,

Blowing you back into

that everyday senselessness then,

when your stiff standard was taken…

now you bob up gasping,

tasting again the touch of dreampersons.

Jesus! Well, but, as of now,

It’s all still here again anyway

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Big Bang

There was so much of nothing then

That had not existed for so long

Emptiness so dense with finality

That it exploded

Into expansive being and becoming,

Almost infinite now,

A universe of God given darkness, misunderstood.

Beasts

Yes, we are beasts at best.

But regrettably

Victims and victimizers

Deniers and denied

Merciless seekers of mercy.

Always fearful and ignorant

Wishful fans of fantasy.

Crying over the pitiful other

In ourselves

At last

Resigned accomplices of oblivion.

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My Ease

Oh if I could take my ease

Up in the tops of trees,

Swaying in the breeze and sun.

Only to see the view

Afforded to very few

Being no room for two in one

Sensory Stimuli

Experiencing Sensory Stimuli in Disassociation

For Wallace Stevens

The shadows in the yellow light,

Things on the table,

The sound reproduced,

The tastes on the tongue…

The sight of the image as shown,

The smell of the rain,

The object in shadow,

The quiet in the stillness.

The abrading moment’s tissue,

The wanting, the wanting…

The hush after utterance,

The grays of the dim light,

The tastes on the tongue.

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Age

To the links…to the links…

To those trim, verdant links,

Toting small slick balls,

Sucking swift hard drinks.

As old clients still call

With some occasional tips,

The most obsessional thing

Than your embarrassing