This River Roaring Poem by BW Derge as featured in the collection of poems entitled MARS JAZZ - this piece a free-verse spitfire poem about human consciousness grappling with its own existential nihilism, unable to see things from a different perspective. The babbling brook becomes this river roaring poem -
"This River Roaring" - Poem by BW Derge from "Mars Jazz" - written in 2015.
This River Roaring
Beneath enough silly things
It should have seen another way.
Off again, the horses wild run
And the wind treads water
Over sensitive stereotypical babbling
Down the calm brook
Saying something
The clouds would’ve said
Had they any tongue
Embarked upon the neck of a tree
And the shoulder snaps soon-
Beneath the silly troves of things
That must’ve seen again by day break
The shore of sadness
And emptiness lost in some pit
In the body cavity of a lost soul
Listening to the slave bus
As it drives the workers
To keep them in place
For you never escape
If you think you’re free.
The exhaust pipe hisses at distant light
Showering their glow from heavens;
Never have the fingers touched as much
Other than what sits
Bitterly beneath the shadow,
Under the skeleton, a love trumpets
Some solar misguidance
About what should have been
In some other day, on a another place
Out there far away from Earth-
The alien spaceships pass by
With their slaves on board
To keep every miserable bag of meat in place
Across the void of space,
The universe has no time
For you to act up and speak out of turn-
Suffering consciousness
Babbling down a gravity brook bent
On some lunar rainbow of time,
What lay beyond
The fourth dimension, the five senses,
What exists beyond these things?
What ripples do actions of here and now
Echo into surrounding infinity? Anything?
The brain wave neuron contraption
Of emotional discharge
Screaming at the sky for answers:
Crazy lunatics with torn shirts
Shaking fists at the air,
Demanding the universe from nothing-
Intellectual warfare
Shrouds the evolutionary pulse
Regurgitating from the toad’s mouth
In a bog by a brook beneath the silly things
That should have seen some other way-
Repetition onward
Into nonsensical meaningless
Lost in a starlight glistening
In a dead eyeball
Two thousand years ago,
The delusions were built
To crush us and teach us love-
Love and truth and words that burst
Under the weight of their pretension,
You cannot know a word’s meaning
Unless you have felt
The necessary feeling of derivation-
Divination in mathematics
On a mountain with a goat
In a scholar cap teaching algebra
As sacred geometry
Becomes an assortment of jokes
Spoken by elephants on the internet,
What became of what once was
That got us thinking things
Were once so beautiful?
Are you the same?
Did you change?
What became of that sordid perception
Lamenting elsewhere?
In the brain a passion burns
In the pipe of an old man on a porch
Wondering where time went
And surely at the end of this life,
All the moments prior make the mind realize
It was but a dream,
What a high!
What a trip!
Have we already died upon Olympus
Generations ago?
Who are we truly?
Silly little things,
Silly little things sitting
By a brook beneath
What should have seen another way-
Drowning in the messy afterglow
Of poison poetry stew,
Where was this river roaring
As it flowed?
Right on time, the slave bus hisses
At stars as prisoners have yet to see
They were never really free.
But oh their faces shined
When they sang the anthems
Of liberation and salvation-
All for what?
To discover it was all a dream
Buried beneath silly things
That never saw another way?
If this is life then life will end and pass us by
And never to breathe again, I’m afraid.
I’m afraid the love isn’t enough
To capture the grasps of fearful delirium…
I’m afraid we are but specks of dusts
Dramatizing existential crises
In a spontaneous dream;
Nothing before, nothing after,
And nothing ever again,
And for nothing more than silly things- !
Think about it sometime
When you a find a moment, maybe,
I don’t care.
Blindsides the picnic basket delirium
Bullfrog dragon drinking upon blood
Of a stomach-
And there they go, do you see?
The horses gallop off
And winds sink to the bottom-
All the tree branches have fallen
And this whole thing crumbles to ash
As no one is left to breathe-
Never again, my friend,
Whoever you might be one day.
Never again.
by BW Derge
all rights reserved 2024 ©
Poem was originally written in 2015
