A flashback from another time
Thought I'd share a poem I wrote when my age was still defined by a -teen and had yet to live two full decades. Why? Because I have been many things, but always me, and because Ken Kesey liked it.
Bossanova beat
Is out on the street
Les gents s’en vont dans le ciel
Et tout le monde est très jolie.
A girl kitten is out in the alley
And wide-eyed children stare at her
She is the light,
She is so bright!
The sun comes down
And the alley becomes greyed
A High Lama emerges from the mist
And touches the kitten girl.
Everything turns into pink and golden rays.
The Lama is old,
But his skin is not cold;
Blue animals transform the path
Of dusk into stone.
The icy face of the night
Gives place to a cheerful reunion,
The children set up a tea party,
And everyone is invited!
Blue tails of the animals laugh
At the smiley eyes of the Lama,
The kitten girl pours twenty teacups
Of boiling frenzy...
Her hair is golden and lights up the alley.
Young boys paint kaftans
With the Lama’s face in them
A very young queen
Offers jewels to the children.
They get hungry at some point
And so the young boys cater
A feast of muffins and pudding
For all those who want them.
A graceful silver pony
Eats pudding from an emerald plate
While the wide eyed children
Comb its hair and caress its body.
The Queen sings hymns in Ancient Persian...
And then everybody dances
And the alley looks so lovely
That flowers start to rain
And perfume the dancers.
At the rosy hour
The Lama decides to part,
Not without kissing the kitten girl
And leaving a purple mandala on her cheek.
The dawn has arrived
And the feast vanishes into a shawl of stars.
The children arrange the place and leave,
The Queen rides the pony towards the North,
And the boys set for her a velvet cart.
Meanwhile, a giant wild orchid blooms from the ground,
The kitten girl sits inside
And emerges as any girl
That walks the Earth.
She gets up and puts on a little dress,
And as she strolls down the angry streets,
Little pink stars pour out
Every time she waves her hair.
Picture credit: Roxana Moshashai. The girl with stars in her hair
Original artist: 旳 --- Blite s (diesel-1997)
Had to read it a second time, to really savor the imagery. Magical. Captures the numinous energy of a wild midnight party that the day has no idea exists. Like a Midsummer Night's Dream, ruled over by royal fae who disappear laughing into the mists with the rising sun. The only sign that it ever happened the stars spilling from a young lady's hair, their source and significance an unremarked upon mystery to the oblivious daywalkers.
Reminded me of the feeling I had emerging blinking into the light from a warehouse rave, tired and skittery from a night that had seemed to last forever, riding the subway home surrounded by people going to work, who I knew really had no idea.