Long Catch 22 Poems
Long Catch 22 Poems. Below are the most popular long Catch 22 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catch 22 poems by poem length and keyword.
I woke up
and in the mirror,
saw a stranger--
a face not mine,
but like my own.
So I wondered:
Am I mad now?
But no...
if you think you're insane,
you're not--
the mind's own Catch-22.
Still...
why did this face seem
to belong to another?
I sensed my soul at work:
not quite done with its
nightly dream-making,
weaving entire worlds
from strands of memory--
bits of ego--
clouds of imagination.
My soul was seeing my flesh
as it really exists-- merely a
convenient container designed
to navigate life and this world
of the temporary,
the fleeting,
the lessening shadows.
And so my immortal part
gave its living doppelganger
a great and wondrous gift:
This is what you really are
as flesh and bone--
a waxen mold,
a vanity,
almost an illusion ....
spaces-SEPTEMBER I
empty slides in the park
chatter fills the school bus
spaces- SNUFFED OUT
Bad light stops play
The muscians retire
Note: Haydn's Farewell Symphony
spaces-CATARACT
The mist lifts slowly
A new vista is unveiled
spaces-CATCH-22
A window pane shatters
Nobody makes a home run
SPACES 2
HISPANIC REVERBERATIONS
Blue-bells
SPACES 1
SHADY LADIES
Hostas
spaces- REFRACTION
a rainbow on high
liquid to light
spaces-THEOPHANY
This is my beloved son
Hear Him?
spaces-PECKING ORDER
Sparrow on the bird table
the hawk has a feast
An Abstract spaces poem
Close your eyes
What did you see?
Jane, my former fellow-worker friend, who lives in Carmel-By-The-Sea, and had been visited by many of us from work.
Gleaning Clint as a third invitee at His Hog's Breath Cafe/Tavern, thanks to Jane<--impetus of my 114 miles (228 miles in total, down/up) drive from my San Francisco home, with the added feature, aside from Clint, is California's central coastline drive ... ala incredible folks.
It's been some time since the store episode/trapped-i/epic-sword, in-back at home recovering.
My phone rang during days that it did, of horrid prices and matching service, hmm--half a second or half a century.
Anyhow, tis Jane calling for a special invite to The Grand as her creative date/Clint cancelled last minute as he found her to be his perfect catch at 21 ... to a catch 22, so the lamb pulled out of the bag and clawed me.
we live behind palace walls
“I’m in love,” I said, sighing into the fall-like, Paris afternoon, “I have to admit it.”
My 85 year old uncle Remy, gently stirring a pitcher of American martini he was conjuring, said, “You should marry an insignificant lawyer - if you’re going to have a cross-class love affair.”
Uncle Remy was a lawyer, of sorts, once.
“I think you’re leading the witness,” I said, looking down at my shoes.
“I’m in love with my Havaianas,” I clarified - my new, white, square-toed flip-flops.
“Besides, no one thinks in terms of class any more - and Peter and I are NOT an asymmetrical match or relationship or whatever.”
But it got me thinking. Half, or more, of what Uncle Remy says is politically incorrect. And I don’t judge him harshly..
I wrote, last week, about a guy who
(gasp) told me he found me attractive
like it was some crisis.
Hadn’t I schemed to get with Peter? (my bf).
And hadn’t he admitted that he’d schemed to get with me?
Was I ready to diagnose this guy as a walking red flag
- for a gentle admission of interest?
Because he's a big, intimidating guy?
What are the small, social rituals
we’re allowed to use - to signal desire?
Sure, buying someone a drink at a bar
- but what else? It’s a Catch-22.
Must every comment face the court of
public opinion, verbal consent protocols,
uni regulations and the behavior authorities?
Should we ban serendipity and spontaneity too?
Monday morning came and I didn’t ask to change seats
I moved my pencil back - a little.
He actually could use a bit more room than me.
I smiled a little, asked him about his weekend,
there’s no use in being unfriendly.
His name is Jacques (Jack).
.
.
Songs for this:
So Sorry by Lola Young [E]
The Hardest Part by Olivia Dean
Catch 22 was fiction
Appealing to a humour like mine
But there was nothing very funny
About Section 69.
The army ran on regulations.
Obey them and you'd be fine
But, beware of that ubiquitous
Queens Regs Section 69.
Devised for situations
Where no others would fit
It took daring luck and skill
To wriggle out from under it.
If they wanted to get you
And couldn't find a way
Section 69
Was brought into play.
Conduct Detrimental,
Which was never defined,
Conduct Unbecoming,
All under Section 69.
A face that didn't fit,
A body deemed too tall,
It didn't really matter
69 covered all.
Two left feet,
A big hairy nose,
Sticky out big ears,
Yes it covered all those.
Every single squaddie
At sometime would meet
That fanatic disciplinarian
With his blank charge sheet.
The only defence really
Was to outrageously lie
if the CO was in good mood
It might just get you by.
So many situations
That were hard to define
But in the end there was always
Good old Section 69.
Catch 22 was fiction
Appealing to a humour like mine
But there was nothing very funny
About Section 69.
Why does the heart get all the credit for love?
By so-called affairs of the heart,
that most storied of organs is not unduly inconvenienced.
It beats,
now faster, now slower,
that is all, its task ever unvaried.
But the brain.
The brain is swarmed
by a scream of consciousness,
the amount of work that lands on its desk
swollen by an epidemic of incoming data
as body-wide receptors caffeinated by intimations of love
report frequent sightings of
unexampled beauty followed by euphoric contacts.
Every signal, real or illusory, is taken into custody and interrogated
to determine its authenticity or duplicity.
Every word is a code that needs to be deciphered with a
clear-eyed detachment it can no longer muster.
Every look is transferred to the left side
for facial-contextual-inferential analysis but often hijacked by the right
for the purpose of aesthetic appreciation.
Every scent is identified and catalogued with
a perfumer's olfactory precision.
There are hints to catch,
spats to be postmortemed,
crucial dates to be inoculated against amnesia,
preferences to be recorded, compared, grafted,
model answers to catch-22 questions drafted,
declarations of adoring allegiance crafted.
The subject’s mind is apparently required to be read,
two sets of past, present, future to be crossbred,
blindness to other females pled.
There are virtues to exaggerate to divine proportions,
flaws to modify to virtues with willful distortions,
desires to mollify by counseling patience,
thoughts to be felt,
feelings to be thought,
vertigo to be fought.
Still the to-do list grows,
the repairing of an attention that no longer spans,
the mistaking of what happens to millions of others daily
as a unique personal miracle,
the confusing of being loved with being special,
the projecting of an untested passion into an eternity,
the steadying of feet that has taken to walking on air,
the murdering of ballads meant to be trilled,
and the admonishing
of that nonchalantly speeding heart
to be still.
Catch-22
If I say I love you
I’m too possessive.
If I fail to say I love you
I’m not romantic enough.
If I work twelve-hour days
I don’t spend enough time with you.
If I only work four-hour days
I don’t show enough ambition.
If I discipline the children
I’m too harsh.
If I don’t discipline the children
I’m too lax.
If I suggest we go on a date
I’m to frivolous.
If I suggest we just stay at home
I’m too cheap.
If I want to be intimate
I’m oversexed.
If I’m not in the mood
I’m not a good lover.
If I want to be spur of the moment
I’m too impulsive.
If I want to plan
I’m too overly cautious.
I can’t win for losing.
I’m in a catch-22.
You went outside the law you fool,
did things the law would get you for,
now you need the law you fool,
go to them they'll get you for sure.
Hid things from the company,
only known by a few kept company,
could come back and completely
remove you from the company.
Deal with it however you please,
you're already locked up,
now throw away the keys,
get me, get you, catch 22, you'll be revealed,
life on your knees,
can't get me and keep it concealed.
You're in a corner and can't get out,
so I'm going to stand here and scream and shout,
and whoever is pointing it out to you,
is doing exactly what I knew they'd do,
investigation will reveal you,
what you, what you, what you gona do!!
fool
Troubled time O Raheem,
Empty, each of my palm,
In truth, world nor its dream,
In falsehood there’s no Ram!
_______________________________________________
Raheem was a saint poet of medieval time in India. This translation comes from one of his couplets; following is its transliteration:
ab raheem mushkil padi, gadhe dou kam;
sanche to jag nahin, juthe milen na ram.
Raheem beautifully essays the reality in this world. If one were to follow the path of truth, there is this world for him nor its dream. In falsehood, obviously one has to sacrifice the blessings of God-- Ram as Raheem puts it.
________________________________________________
Translations |09.01.14 |
Mae West's Room
Every hierarchy exists
dependent upon those below to support it.
Can it be any different with the gods
when some are greater and some are lesser?
We are all gods, and isn’t that the point
in George Orwell’s book, “Animal Farm,”
when he compares human beings to pigs
and we can’t tell the difference between them?
“Some pigs are better than the rest.”
Or, in other words, let me refer you to
Joseph Heller’s exposé, “Catch-22,” paraphrased:
“When you know both sides of the coin,
win, lose, or draw, Mae West said it best,
‘Why don’t you come up sometime and see me?’”
***
Notes:
Mary Jane West, aka Mae West (1893–1980), was a vaudeville performer, playwright, singer, Hollywood film actress, and screenwriter during the Gay Nineties and beyond. She was considered a sex symbol during this era and was very controversial.
One of her best-known quotes comes from her play “Diamond Lil,” written in 1928, which was adapted for the Hollywood film “She Done Him Wrong” in 1933: “Why don’t you come up sometime and see me?”
The quote inspired Arthur Swanstrom and Louis Alter to write the 1933 song “Come Up and See Me Sometime!” which was first recorded by Elsie Carlisle. The song went on to become Mae West’s signature song.