11/22/63

[the mingo]

Poetry is a language of other - revolutionR - 2/2/15

a dallas language
crackles the damage
through a nation that
gambles with cancer
the fatter are gadget to the fraction
at the catholic camping ground
rubbed raw and then to grow callous
anxious with ballads & babies & bullets & babble & ashes
captive to fashion
cancelled tickets in hand
mere gangsters & ghosts
absent by quantum balance & eager
ravenous for even more bandwidth
to fill that expanding emptiness
with ever newer song
both bystander & witness brought impotent
to a perfect stillness
by knowledge yet unapprehended
of what had happened
before their very eyes
the bride became a wife
the wife a widow
truth is the good guys didn't win -

lets get drunk
call in sick to work
stay to home
where we can gasp up
the gases of auschwitz
in peace
as a light snow falls

[justwalt]

yeah, where is jfk day, my calender...
oh wait, I don't have a calender, but if I did...

mom cried that day, and dad disappeared that year...
what happened in vegas... stayed,
we left hollywood to try broadwy that year,

I was only three, so they say, I don't recall

[sweetwater]

Children’s lie-telling behavior and its relation to false-belief understanding was examined in children with autism spectrum disorders (ASD; n = 26) and a comparison group of typically developing children (n = 27). Participants were assessed using a temptation resistance paradigm, in which children were told not to peek at a forbidden toy while left alone in a room and were later asked if they peeked. Overall, 77% of the total sample peeked at the toy, with no significant difference between the ASD and typically developing groups. Whereas 96% of the typically developing control children lied about peeking, significantly fewer children with ASD (72%) lied. Children with ASD were poorer at maintaining their lies than the control group. Liars had higher false-belief scores than truth-tellers. These findings have implications for understanding how theory of mind deficits may limit the ability of children with ASD to purposefully deceive others.

[theirishsea]

I guess if you are a certain age you know instantly what 11/22/63 means.

Interesting approach to the poem---a jangle of language

the fatter are gadget to the fraction
at the catholic camping ground
rubbed raw and then to grow callous
anxious with ballads & babies & bullets & babble & ashes
captive to fashion
cancelled tickets in hand
mere gangsters & ghosts

"the fatter are gadget to the fraction". Not exactly sure what that means but an interesting combination of words. Sounds good---short a sound bound into consonants that complement each other in the three words. that line is fascinating.

of course it isn't the only thin fascinating about the poem but that line is a highlight. Perhaps the expressive but disjointed language of the whole poem expresses the state of mind the Kennedy assassination produced. There is a very understandable thread in the poem but on that thread are hung these irrational combinations of words.

A number of more conservative people may not follow and will dismiss the poem. I think your experiment, your words are daring and gather attention. The form fits the subject. Thumbs up from me.

[sweetwater]

poor mango trying to figure out
who revolution rabbit is

and whether it is any of your business mango
dingo

[sweetwater]

good to know you like to collect
information on people

for the purpose of you 'gaming'

of people in society
nice game dingo dingo

...

lisi fool

[stilltrucking]

on a probably nongermane tangential unrelated personal note:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lDrDd29_OI

billy joe shaver is god and
there aint't no god in mexico
and there ain't no way to understand
How one ex marine, 15 seconds and three shots almost made me choke the dog sh-t out of my mother on November 22 1963
suicide by matricide
not to dwell on the bad
just noticing crazy shit in passing
when I was crazy I was still afraid of being crazy.
America the land of the brave and the home of the scared sh*tless
we need more lawyers less warriors
don't tread on us or we will sue your ass off

flash forward twenty one years
I am forty two years old sitting by the old woman's bed
listening to her death rattle
it just a moment before dawn
why do they always seem to die at first sunlight?
and I say to my brother
She died on the same day as JFK
I get up and cover the mirror with a sheet
but I don't know why
some Jew superstition I guess


aspergers r us'
nice work amigo please pardon the autistic reply

[revolutionR]

I always say, my childhood ended the day Kennedy was assassinated
and my beatnik began

[the mingo]

Thx walt -

[the mingo]

Thx irish for your thoughts & the thumbs up

[the mingo]

Thx Jack - i don't know why the sheet over the mirrors either - my great aunt used to do that

[the mingo]

Thx rev -

[WIREMAN]

from the evidence the cancer buisiness is here 2 stay, i just built 2 humungous buildings in shady grove md. to house their further explorations into the fact that nobody gets outta here alive......

[the mingo]

i just built 2 humungous buildings in shady grove md. to house their further explorations into the fact that nobody gets outta here alive......

that's truth for sure but there's money in them there cancer hills and nothing is going to keep them from it -

[Doreen Peri]

Hard hitting piece, mingo... Your use of language continues to get more and more powerful. I'll never forget that day. Mrs. Walp's class... 4th grade... she left the room and came in crying. We were all sent home early. I got home and my mom was crying. Turned on the black & white TV to watch what was happening. I was too young to understand but it all hit me so hard when I figured it out and I still didn't get it and I still don't.

Somehow I connect 4th grade with Mrs. Walp who taught the entire class (math, history, english, everything) via ART.... somehow I connect the JFK assassination with Mrs. Walp's influence on my life because everything was taught through art and she was so sensitive and she wrote a poem for me at the end of the year ...and it all connects together and it's hard to explain but it made me realize how important all the arts were and how our human spirits come forth through art .... and how fragile life is because KABOOM! JFK was gone and I was so young and none of it made sense.

Interestingly, connected to that in my life, my daughter was in 4th grade also when 911 happened so somehow these things are connected in my brain's synapses because she didn't understand why I had to go pick her up from school and we all sat around watching the TV with the towers coming down over and over and over, the same clips being shown and it reminded me of ME being in 4th grade and coming home to watch the JFK assassination on TV over and over and over and not being able to comprehend the HUGENESS of it all.

Thank you for your poem.