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Colin Amato Poem
Truly, the bee hive innards hum
Truly, the body inside gurgles
Truly, the cave echoes the vortex
Truly I know these sounds
from last night
4 cackling creatures spewed
their saturated sayings upon
the floor
upon each other, upon me
the hammering of the gong
the stampede of a thousand
African Elephants all were
asleep in my head before
these 4 opened the flood gates
of the Mind and the sudden
rush of tidal-wave trumpets
I had to leave, flee, rush
walking, against stone and
broken checkerboard spot-
lights I saw you.
Latin King of knowledge
and intellect came down
the Cardio-Hill and embraced
the darkness with refreshing
light. Saving me from ignorant
swine and masses of greased
filled bodies a pool of stale
eggnog that once seemed
white in the moonlight
now floats dead and
stale, a growing vile mass
unlike its former self
Breaking free from this
chain of emptiness I
went with you, oh one
from another land, took
me to a land of distant
memory and dreams
That bubbling feeling of
the Reed-Flute crying
the Baby also crying due
to separation. It was this
sound that rose higher then
the rest. That sound
propelled me to leave. The
nosey throng and join the
party of Lovers as they
dance. But this dancing
does not have to be
physical, but in the mind
that fluid motion of
loving mind-numbing Dance.
created a sensation in
my heart and soul that
the Hernia of Pestilence
was healed and I
could then, after exile
with the Latin King, return
to the normal mortals
and once again brave the
slow Caravan's journey
against the concrete sky.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Colin Amato Poem
You were so
full of life and
uniqueness and inspiration
to those like me
looking for a voice
to cry out and be
oneself, shuffle off
such mortal coil
and fly high above
the elements of
repetition.
Yet I saw your
roots now, they
run deep, breaking
free from the cold
pavement and saw
life jetting up
You friend are birthed,
live die and are
born anew in all
uniqueness. You don't
conform to one mold
but are willing to
change with the seasons
of life and just be.
Be green
Be red
Be brown
Be puke-green
Be old
Be young
Be new
Be you
you are the teacher
of this poem
Be yourself
and look up from
the pavement of
repetition
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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Colin Amato Poem
I find myself having to act
onstage, spotlight trained and fixed
The Sad Clown
Laughing on the outside
Crying on the inside
Lying, pretending, dishonest
its all one big game
customer asks "How are you today?"
Lie: "Good"
True feelings submerged
only 10% revealed above water
until i get home @ night
then the Sad Clown is exposed in the darkness
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Colin Amato Poem
Summer is when
The morning begins to heat
Eggs
And
Your
Head
Begins
To
Sweat
That
Drips
Down
Your
Face
So fast that you can hardly wipe of it all,
And
Summer is when
You eat ice cream
Jump
Have
Fun
At
The
Park
And then go to the pool
And relax all day long
Winter
Winter is when
everything is quiet.
snow
comes
down
flake
by
flake
Crisp and silent
As the flames in our ash filled fireplace
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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Colin Amato Poem
1. A gnat under blue
days will next spin on apples
Look! More frogs arrived
2. The terrible tree
Covers my house. That summer
I counted wagons
3. The frog above red
Songs will soon remember you
Winter dreams with ducks
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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Colin Amato Poem
depression
sad
bad
angry
misfits
skeleton
undead
dead
alive
mowhak
Rancid
punk
Ramons
guitar
violin
Anne Rice
interview
with
the
vampire
Lestat
Tome Cruise
Jeckle/Hyde
musical
singing
stage
globe
world
Russia
hammer
red
communism
China
Mao
white
red
blood
Vlad
Turks
Muslims
hate
9/11
sadness
depression
angry
unhappy
alone
hell
heaven
God
devil
demon
exorcist
omen
fortune telling
tarot
Celtic
barbarians
Rome
Italians
Godfather
Mafia
violence
death
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Colin Amato Poem
Worlds collide in my throat
as the galaxy of my heart is
torn asunder. Desperation lives
in my eyes, sweet salty sweat
pours down the avenging slippery
slopes of my brow.
Never knowing, always searching
Never finding, always lost
Lost among friends
Lost among family
Lost among myself
How I wish I could escape.
The doorbell rings
the wind chimes jingle
their dancing song against
the soothing wind.
I listen, I hear, I obey
I smell the fragrance
of the incense of my heart
burning, yearning to rise to
the highest potential, the ceiling
fan at least. To be caught
up with the current of the
arms outstretched, to over-
throw all other senses
I lift and spin
losing all of my consciousness
in a looping track of
ecstasy.
The most joyful dance, the
most joyful longing. To be
set free amongst
green fields, golden beaches,
red bricks, white snow
clear blue sky. The Red-
Bird of my heart is crying
to be set free. It's longing
to be separated from that
Iron Cage, The Iron Curtain
against the soul of freedom
It wants to fly higher and
higher, to soar and spin
to stretch its wings with
the other birds. It knows
Externally it is the same
as the others and yet
Internally it is different
from the others. He has
that slight spark of
a reality that is completely
him. That is unique from
the others. It wants to
share, to experience this
freedom, all the time. It
yearns to be free to be
itself no matter where
it flies, not having to
choose its pecking ground.
To laugh and to live with
the other birds, with
the Crows, Bluejays and
Pigeons and be seen
as an equal. But alas
they will never accept
his song nor its
flight pattern. Internal
spark has to be concealed.
Back to the Cage it
goes, back to limitation
and longing. Back to
the feelings of false-
security. It wants to
be free, so it has collisions
in the throat and galaxies
of heart torn asunder. Desperation
in the eye and sweet salty sweat
pouring down avenging slippery
slopes of brows.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Colin Amato Poem
We came to your home
Jack
Hidden amongst bosom
hills and armies of trees
past the State gates
who finally admitted
us entry to your tomb
they keep you here
Jack
in memory, first editions
your wife spent years
here alone, your phantom
haunting the halls
the woods
her memory
she built this place
like the Egyptians of old
dragging each mental stone
one
upon
the other
cranium slave labor
of awe
fear
love
a physical testament
to your published
achievements and
emotional fingerprint
you left your mark
everywhere
Jack
Hawaii where you
danced the headhunter
dance of primitive times
donned your outfit
and howled to the
new moon of inspiration
Jack
you and wife traveled
the oceans just like
your novels
your life ebbing and
alive
still
in these pages of
Calling and White
you observed life
and the universe
and without hesitation
you recorded it for us
Christopher Columbus
Sir Francis Drake
of reality fiction
But reality has a way
of finding even the
largest child as we
hide from it or
ignore it before its
to late
it found you after
your Wolf House burned
and the booze burned
you for far too long
you slept the final
sleep
on the porch of
inspiration
like a babe you returned
now we see the
ruins of the Wolf House
and your grave
your ashes
beneath the stone
next to your wife
across from the two
children's markers
the birds crying as
we all do for you
Jack
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2011
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Colin Amato Poem
Walking the path each day
introverted thoughts in
cased in my skull
a boneyard of ebbing
memories and thought-processes
back slightly hunched over
eyes to the ground
seeing earth, stone
cracks, grass, flowers
bird droppings, dog's as well
dotting the slick
pavement of repetition
I occasionally look up
at the sound of honks
and horns, my feet the
usual sound
slap slapping
the pavement of repetition
usually my heart beats
rapidly in my chest as
I increase, speed on
purpose, wanting the rush
the kick, to feel alive
and afloat amongst
a sea of repetition
Day in and day out
I walk briskly from
my lair to my sweat-
shop of endless shelving
the same each day
except when minuet
differences occur to add
layers of perceptions
the unexpected
to the expected
Although the path
may not change the
seasons in their serenity
certaintly do
spring to summer
fall to winter
the breath seen by
all on the day I
saw you
standing there alone
and afraid
the bushes, your neighbors
had the thin coating
of a finished car
covered by dew and
frost
they did not change
and in their immunity
mocked your transformation
I realized that I never
took notice of you
day out and
day in
always looking
never stopping
to see such a
friendly face
you changed from your
puffed up green
to a blood red
your dying friend!
or so it seemed
your veins protruding out
of star-shaped
leaves
you stood there friend
different and changed
no longer content with
the past life you lead
the caterpillar your mentor
you cocooned your inner
voice and thoughts
in a tangled web of
masks the greenery such
an expectation to
the unexpected that you
blended in, disappeared
amongst all of the
clones of leaves of
grass. Yet here you are
standing tall and unique,
yourself changed for
the better. No longer
going with the natural
order of things.
I passed you again,
now looking up
past the pavement
of repetition
and saw you changed
yet again
your stars no longer
hanging and flowing
blood-red energy of
life
NO
they were brown and
puke-green, dried
except when wet by
morning dew and rain
fallen to the ground
dead and you my
friend your branches
old and shriveled
appeared old and
dead. What has
happened friend you
look ill, sick
done in.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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Colin Amato Poem
When we see the nighttime air
Whipping at our face
You just can't see, your life away
As your death is put aside
The rain falls down fast
Forming pools and puddles at our feet
We shiver, as spines tingle
And shirts stick to flesh
Soaked to the bone we have become
We are reduced to wet rats
Struggling through the thick mud and muck
Trying to find our way, through the brown water
Endless hope, does not help
Our souls trying to surface
Warmth at last we find
Nice warm night we have
Here we shall know welcoming
We are now home
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2009
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