Best 1970 Poems

I am Farrah Fawcett,
Poster on the wall. 
  I am a rotary phone,
When I made a call. 

   I am, Boss,
it’s the plane, The plane. 
   I am Pablo Escobar,
And his cocaine. 

   I am Queen with 
Freddy...

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There ain’t no two ways about it man, 
it just has to be because of you.

Before you came along we could do, 
about anything we wanted to.

Man, life was great, life was great, before, 
you came along and ruined it all.

There’s Haight-Ashbury’s summer of love,...

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When I was in my Michigan high school
I found something both promising
and sacred,
portentous with rural, yet also urbane, PositivEnergy,
in and among our graduating classes
of 1970.

Ending with mindful roundness
of Zero.
Preceded by almost octave fullness
of sacred potentiating Seven.
Echoed more gobslappingly
by double-digit Nineteen,
promising most of us
a transmillennial journey
toward...

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23 may 2013 8:36 am



Mathew Herman Vain
A child who had no name

Was killed before he was born
His cell from his kidneys was torn

Cloned and named HEK293
Those cells they use to satisfy you and me

They use it in processes to make vaccines
And process for artificial flavors...

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Drifting, my excellence
Blonde air-line.
Comme ce comme sais.
Bungalow Bang
Leave my space. Richard Gere in my car.
Space-Fraud
Sickening Mercedes Benz
Woah- woah. That is.
Plastic Coke
Metal Cork. Colour the Heinz.
Lovely 1980 arrives...

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The Girls in Steno, 1970


When it’s break time
the girls all walk together,
cigarette-protector cases 
clasped between their index 

tapers and their thumbs.
On each girl’s fingers glow 
iridescent lacquers.
When break time nears, 

they peek at each other,
twinkle, giggle, nod.
When break time comes, 
a bell rings and the...

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We all had homemade dresses for prom; well, nearly all of us.
This was back in 1970 while black and white Viet Nam War photos were on TV
Every night, we saw such sadness.
Prom was a reminder of childhood.
Back to the Bibbity Bobbity Boo of Cinderella.

We girls...

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Attributed To Concerned parents
of Traumatized Refugee
Dear Fred and Mary Anne MacLeod Trump...

Posthumous belated tattered letter fragment
recently discovered (liberally sprinkled with
hyperbole (presumed for greater audacious
zealousness), sans accidentally acquired
by yours truly.

Miscellaneous personal item highly valued
when thwarted from auctioneer, whose gently
persuasion collectible merchandise requisitioned,
thence keepsake property perfunctory mandatorily...

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Attributed To Concerned parents
of Traumatized Refugee
Dear Fred and Mary Anne MacLeod Trump...

Posthumous belated tattered letter fragment
recently discovered (liberally sprinkled with
hyperbole (presumed for greater audacious
zealousness), sans accidentally acquired
by yours truly.

Miscellaneous personal item highly valued
when thwarted from auctioneer, whose gently
persuasion collectible merchandise requisitioned,
thence keepsake property perfunctory mandatorily...

Continue reading...

He ranked as de facto semiprecious,
tremulous and unanimous scapegoat
bullied by a bumptious, callous,
disputatious hippopotamus of a brat
infamous bruiser later in his life to become
forty fifth president of UnIted States.

Though documentation incomplete, the un
named subject referred within torn shred
recovered included signatory couching
ambiguous references to a tenebrous,
unscrupulous,...

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Poetry is easy, life is hard,
And so the bravest bard
Begins to buckle with the weight of brutal years—
His singing disappears....

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LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
As I was finishing my senior year in high school 
I knew I wanted out.
I wasn’t going to college. No desire or grades.
I was 18 after all, almost 19
Everyone asked, “what do you want to do with your life?”
I had no...

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Standing in front of this enormous masterpiece,
Seeing his life story as the layers release.

I wasn’t warned to expect a wonder so rare.
I guess I expected a melting clock here or there.

Venus di Milo inspired his hallucinating toreador.
Dali features her likeness fourteen times or more.

Three of...

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Whatever else he was, recall
He was a Bookman after all,
And at his quietest, a poet too.
Redonda…wine…the sordid rest
Ignore for now—extol his best!
For there was good in Gawsworth, as in you....

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Some of you, will in memory, may fondly recall.
Enchanting, colored dance floors, you all had a ball!
When women still wore stunning, gorgeous dresses, 
Unafraid to wear makeup, and sport long, shiny tresses.

No, you were not vaping or drugging it up, to be cool.
You did not...

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