Saturday, September 22, 2012

poem: shame to her

Image: "A Sky-Blue Life" (Peter Milton)

[Occupational hazard of the morning trek: poems that bloom without pen or paper. I carried the lines for the morning's five miles, plenty of repetitions to hold onto fairly tight, all blooming from my current momentary obsession - Kimbra's cover of Nina Simone's performance of George Stone's "Plain Gold Ring" on NS's debut album. Kimbra's cover, a skintight homage to Nina's haunted pavane, is on her album Vows. Throw in my Peter Milton obsession of late, too, that's a mighty full blue plate. Mercy.]

[Shame to Her]
Nina lived it in her cloistered misery
KJ rang it pure and mighty to a New World
We the chorus of bloody valentines
dispossessed ourselves on either side
the serrated lines of wounded exile
cattle calls of salted estuaries
catalogs of blue devastation
riddled holocausts of the blasted Heart
Shaman baby in her lil red thing
holds the barbed thorns of Nina's pain
holds the keys to your prison, too
jailbait Delilah
to your ancient woe
blue skies don't get in
dark stars don't get out
this dirge of regret
spirals down the ladders of
goldenmyths in the bleakest wells
only a kiss away kiss away kiss away
your priested gloom
gathers in the eyes
of her spectral charism
Caliban'd shame to
her Miranda'd tomorrows
high priestess of the wastelands
doomed to cry for merciless mercy
the call of a wild beyond
your blasted suns
your vacant moons
the sequin'd desecration of
the storms of noon.


Blogger anno said...

Just spent a week with the fog of dementia and delirium, and as much pain as this poem expresses, I appreciate the fact that it is at least a pain I can feel. I liked the "catalogs" and "cattle calls," the sharp pain of "bloody valentine," the "blasted heart," and "barbed thorns." Together with the Milton and music, a great blue plate combo. I'll take one order here, one to carry away...

1:00 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Anno: I trust the fog has lifted. Seemed a bit foggy for me on Tuesday and Wednesday. Kimbra's cover has been resounding in my head for about three weeks now; just last night I found out Nina recorded it on her first album in 1957. For a 22-year-old chile, Ms Kimbra's musical roots run deep and wide. Tiramisu for dessert, cher . . .

1:29 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

I still like Nina's version better. Love your poem, especially the last lines: the call of a wild beyond
your blasted suns
your vacant moons
the sequin'd desecration of
the storms of noon.

That sequin'd desecration of the storm of noon just give me the shivers.

Sorry to hear about fogs and desolation... Fermenting stuff for five miles definitely concentrates the Murat flavor.

9:29 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

T: Nina's vision/version is a Brave New World, for sure. That was indeed a good five miles. Same the next day, too. Bundle up, girl! No more shivers!

4:23 PM  

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