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INVOCATION

Posted to Action Poetry




INVOCATION

We need
PASSION
to put words into context

to formulate a pretext worthy

of our cut-and -paste verbal
aching to be heard
thunderclap blurred

to quake shake that thundering word herd
and
play those changes
that rearrange us

rain down rhythmic rhyme-time
jazz-jazz-jazzy clime
axe teases
in the licks chaotic
brrrrap-bap-bap-0-matic

PASSION
bring on the axiomatic

round sound midnight drumroll fury-
ocity
velocity
squeeze beat angel wings
'til they sing sweet
drink the bebop sax
the wing drip wax

of them that flew too close to the sun
fillin' holy souls and tongues
with the ever changin'
always in the now
manic minds eye milkmaid
leading the tongue tied

to the teat that paid the fare
with their jailtime press
and their pain was not in vain

they were paving the wagon train ruts with gluts
of tarry thick ideas
fresh with bloodsweat extract

doin' that literal literary lowstick limbo
into the next generation

of word play sensation-
alists
like us
thinkin' 'bout
what to say
and how to say it
that beat in rhyme
and time to play it

We need PASSION
to bask in extremes

to set our wet absurdist dreams
in flight

through tarpaper night satellite kite crowded

skies

where our white noise pen toys
spin spiderweb thin
sinewy monkey limbs
limberly groping at new poetical chins
our fingers licks spittle
thick with ripe hype glory
pricks the juice-blown words
tasting flying syllables
invisible chords tying them

to howling celestial forms
storm voices that are
politic / lunatic / heretic
our kinetic kites collide
in starry night skies

with leaky loud electric pens
our ecclectic process begins
where it never left off
sound richness
rhythmic hitches
content stitches
together
pop-pop-poppinn' a hole
in the whole of time
art serving purpose
continues expansion

in the Universe of Rhyme

We need PASSION

to invoke the everyday
everyman

tin pan alley trashcan huckster scam
slam sing-song banter
that is simple
sinful

with those blam blam blam gunshot phrases
that glazed ham
canned heat
edge of your seat
repartee

because we learned from those who told it

who origami folded visions
in deserts dry
selling passers by
wordy purple fishes
from their oceans of sand

We've got to
EXPAND
on this vocabulary

form a mental constabulary
arresting ignorance at hand
because knowledge
IS
power

the sting bee in the flower
that pollinates and seeds
with concepts overgrowing
the weeds of conformity
building bridges of wisdom
over the dull beige schism
torn by sitcom mentally

and wisdom culminates awaiting cultivation
by our visual cortex
spiritual vortex whirling
helix twirling out

the answers to our prayers

and the spoken word blares
from invocation
to creation
occurring within
the process

of lookin' for words to say.


AND SOME DAYS THEY SPLIT ATOMS

AND SOME DAYS THEY KICK STONES

today they our voice.


"Invocation" copyright-T. Paul 2000

This piece was written in one sitting, the stream of conciousness breaking through three months of blockage. It's become a tradition for me to read it at the beginning of the spoken word/music fusion open mic that I produce and host called THUNDERING WORD HEARD in Vancouver, B.C.. Finally getting all of this out was like taking a verbal laxative-relieving!