Yesterday’s Tibet
Crushed indigenous population,
commanded over their religion
– atrocities, violent chainsaw nightmares –
began highways and strip mines
vomited up cheap hotels and supermarkets
strung wires garroting beautiful vistas
turned sacred lakes to cesspools
turned magic into cartoons on t-shirts
marched ugly armies with terrifying fire power
to keep the peace
made their own language
the tongue of country
Of Thee I Sing
10/16
Manchurian Corp.
Mao is a vampire
drinking Coca-Cola –
Walt Disney animatronic fists
Mickey Mouse on the airwaves of Brazil –
Watch yourself watch yourself go to Tibet –
The universal money
is shiny plastic
called “bling” –
Planet G20
beast with a million eyes
10/26
Hong Kong Bardo
Flitting through Hong Kong airport
a leaf-blown ghost confused by my karma –
standing in the wrong line
or frozen in one spot check-in
while secret calls are made
for the 2 gigantic
Indian men gorged to bursting, petulant –
but a few hours in the Hong Kong airport
will make a petulant unhappy ghost
w/ huge stomach & tiny mouth –
scratchy bored explanations that are incoherent –
prickly sweat gathering at the memory of a neck –
the STARBUCK’S croissant a Chinese lantern
dissolving into dust
fingers of dust
tongue dry hanging cow-like –
eyes blurring
as this world goes away
in a whisper of desperation –
the black out preferable?
the kiss-off preferable?
get me to the church on time
station to station hearse to hearse
black plume lady won’t you go out tonight?
nova moon collapsing black tar black hole
Black Sunday I am my own Barbara Steele
gigantic eyed B-movie scream queen
staring into the empty mirror
of dissolving stars, falling sputniks –
a brief quiet in the industry of the dead
hurtling to their destinations
10/29
Allen Ginsberg said “MARC OLMSTED inherited Burroughs’ scientific nerve & Kerouac’s movie-minded line nailed down with gold eyebeam in San Francisco.” Olmsted teaches the on-line course “WRITING KEROUAC/SITTING BUDDHA: Spontaneous Poetics & Big Mind” at Writers.com. His book, WHAT USE AM I A HUNGRY GHOST? – POEMS FROM 3-YEAR RETREAT (VCP Press, 2001), has an introduction by Ginsberg.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/genocide-in-tibet/
GENOCIDE IN TIBET
We are in a hollow world,
Where people are headless chicken,
Bloody revolutionaries, brute force charging together
To slay, the meditating monks.
Alas! Where are the sane voices?
All dried up,
Fearing brutal comrades.
As dry chaff in the storm,
Or flies over dead corpse.
Lifeless jokers, dancing meaninglessly.
Closed streets of Lhasa are red,
With the blood of monks and lamas.
Some have crossed to a,
Paralyzed other kingdom,
To avoid brutal repression,
Meeting hollow and stuffed comrades.
I cannot dare to open my eyes,
To see death’s kingdom,
Violent sunlight on shattered bodies,
Dead land-ruled by cactuses,
Raising of a dead man’s head,
Under the cluster of dying stars.
It is death’s world
It is a paradise for ghosts
Moving alone
Trembling with fear
Lips kissing the dying soul.
Revolutionaries have no eyes
In this Death Valley
Bullets select their own targets,
Poor monks grope together
Speechless on this mountain of dying kingdom.
Hollow ideas, sad realities
No conception, no creation, no emotion
Havoc is made in the silent valley.
Only for a desire
To live and let live.
Alas! Roof of the failed world,
Looking-The defender of faith,
The Holy One, the Absolute wisdom,
Have mercy, save us.