A while ago I stopped putting poems on this blog, beginning a new blog at
for my creative writing. But looking over some old poems tonight, I found the following poem that I thought I could better share here with you, the readers of my blog. It sort of, far-fetchedly, which rhymes with wretchedly, connects to my last two posts.
As introduction, I commend to you the novel Dhalgren, by Samuel R. Delaney. A dystopian novel of sorts, it follows the experiences of a young man coming to a city ravaged by riots, a city which has somehow become disconnected with known reality. In case you read the novel, I won’t tell you much more. But I will tell you, reading is as a rebellious youth in the 60s/70s, it made such a great impression on me, I wrote a work of poetry/prose based on the life of the fictitious anti-hero of the novel, mostly from the point of view of said protagonist. When I sent it out to try to get it published, I got backlash from certain editors who accused me of plagiarism. I thought it was a celebration, but that is water under the beaver dam.
The following poem is me writing as the character, and he has come to the last page of the notebook in which he has been writing poetry about the city lost in time. All of which is irrelevant to the poem, but I just thought I would give you the background because I felt like it. The complete work is called A Bouquet of Brass Orchids.
I’ve reached the last page
i’ve reached the last page of this book
and if i don’t write between the lines
this is the last poem i’ll compose
so i should make it sound profound
but what is there that i can say
to change this world in which we live
i don’t believe in god or hell
so all i have is you and me
is this perchance the gift of life
to realize there’s nothing there
except the love that one might feel
towards a person dear to them
i’d like to think long on this thought
but i don’t have the time nor space
suffice to say that were i wise
i’d say to you god bless the atheist