Bongo John
history | Bongo John: profile
Hand In Hand

» Hand In Hand

play (mp3, 16.08 MB, 07:01) (mp3, 1.61 MB, 07:01)
genre Pop
info
our blog category: poems

Various Poems by Bongo John

by Bongo John, posted 10/07/11 13:11:50   » poems

Weathered Worlds & Dreams Unfurled
(dedicated to Neil Gaiman & Tori Amos)

Life is more a memory as we live it
Coming through in waves
As the Northern lights are waving
Some time spent pondering
Pictures safe for the moonlit window frame

Living the waking dream 
Sleeping while awake
Awake while sleeping
Dreams forgotten and remembered
Dreams come and gone
Touched upon in song

Peering into the collective soul
Sides of ourselves 
Others see at a distance
And hear the bell that tolls
At the closing of the hour
When PM goes to AM
Reality takes a seat for Delirium
As her grains of sand in the hourglass
Don't seem so small and alike

She knows daybreak will bring the Sandman 
who will say, 
"We are like mere grains of sand
on an endless shore, 
yet each of us, 
a world created in the image of the Creator.."

Sometimes we don't know who the Father is
And we dream daydreams about the crack of noon
When the moon is out in the daytime
We hold onto our honey and silver spoon

Pandora Parchment

...lost in my train of thought
by the tracks of the wayward wind
consequence of my bliss was insubstantial
A card was played and gone with the wind
In asking a civil question:
"Is this train for passengers?"
"Freight", was the man's answer
A frayed knot in this golden thread ensued
And parted ways in the eager substantiation
With a delusion of Grandeur
The jump was too far
As some doors lead to concrete dreams
Like a door to nowhere in physicality
Of a boundless imagination
Wandering onward as Emily did
Not a Charlie's Angel
For whom she did her best impression
Twas a sticky situation between cars & guitars
Allowing for the solidification of freedom in spirit
While continuing to thicken vines 
In the explanation of this life's tapestry
Ravens were in route
One with a worm
I won't complicate a rainy day
When a calling from a great distance
Requiring for each slippery step
One rung in the stolen ladder
As Jacob is in a fit
About the cacophony of cataclysmic quagmires
Meandering about with slight contempt & trepidation
Yet calm in the carefully constructed woes of happenstance
Now home
Not to mother in a cardboard box
Home is where the heart is...
Nothing to hide no matter where you are
Nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide
Skies open wide in the din of the day
And I might taste from the sample jar
Keeping a lid on parched Pandora's wish
I can't turn the page of frozen celluloid
Because she's a laborious chapter
Just don't throw the book at me
It will only truly land
In the hands of the devil
Whipped by his tale
And slightly singed in the danger
That didn't exist in the first place
Of an afternoon meandering
in hopes of a glimpse of her treasure
by the abandoned tracks...

Circuitry Eternal

In the eyes of a mortal soul
And in the consequence of dreams
Enclosed in microcosms of circuitry
Dusting the gray matters with a tell-tale broom
Down sealed corridors long forgotten
A janitor touches upon a legacy of humanity
In static shoes...
Not knowing the sheer density
Of the chip on his shoulder
In the memory that is volatile
Oblivious and loyal
He kisses his server
Tucks away his transistor radio
With a half a bar of soap
And a tattered comb
He senses that people still exist
But can't be for sure
Knowing that in the eyes of his canine friend
His world can never mend
He sweeps away his tears
Of a world he once knew
When neighbors threw parties
Before the Ending War blues
Every now and then
He grasps one hand with the other
Reminding himself
That his hands are real
As a golden rule on a deeply seated plaque
“To err is contrary to the perfect output of the Divine”
He's been hoping the plaque would disappear
Before it had appeared
As a dumbwaiter contraption
Set to rise and fall every 10,000 years
Once he ate breakfast on it out of spite
Only to have nightmares late at night
Anytime of day
He did not know when
And felt more dirty
The more he cleansed
He would sing:
'Oh Lord pretty blu
Bright immortal eyes
Lucifer is shinin
pretty blu
quickenin his bow
In da flames
I know dat Heaven
I know there be
roads of gravel
sure no streets of gold
I do what I'm told
pretty blu twinkle
star O' Bethlehem
won't you shine on me?'

One day he wandered a little beyond
with a drink in hand
Very old brandy
In a small leather flask

Peering over the rail and falling
Infinity stole him
Smashing the labyrinth
Of the only circuitry remaining
And the only circuitry needed
Containing everything ever experienced
By humankind
He laughed as his life fizzled away
And suddenly
Everyone had no recollection
Of the virtual world that once enveloped
Reality in limbo
His broomstick sank to the very bottom
And all was forgotten...

Lament of The Blind Record Weasel

Violation of monolith proportions
To the dog faced boy who shouted too loudly
In his formative years obsessing about the woman
He didn't add up
but the figures did...
Both as witnesses as well as a hidden prophet
He was thinking about ghosts in the wind
The unclear channel was surfed routinely
A fun dead venture to sell to the masses
And further pursue the taboo
Of making invisible
The difference
Betwixt fiction and reality
Getting out of this state
Like a sample in a jar
A state of moot affairs and oracle territory
In order to preserve
The Deal
Motion the mad soulless wonder
To the questioning table
And we'll keep his brain
To examine...
Mother will keep the filters on high
To mask home conversation
What seemed so alien was his violently happy human behavior
Wishing he was here with Alice and Sid
We've learned so much from him
Too much to reveal in science...
Illuminati Mafia scoring media focus
And make dollars from his stories
He might think he's already died
It's later than you think ... you might want something to drink
Just for the record
Isn't it ironic that his sanity remains
Despite a blissful existence
He won't be riding the gravy train
with a new record

Immortal Remnant

somehow with this pen
I will have made my mark on history
down in a distant vault
you'll find it, seven umpteen rung 
it's not my fault
that words will no longer weigh on my tongue

Silent words, somewhat worthless words,
Motionless, somewhat emotionless

Did you say there is no eternity?
"I was gonna put a lot of things off til then."
Nonetheless, if it is true, then I'm really gone.
"I wouldn't con about how gone I am."

It should be proven by your time,
that parallel lines eventually do cross.
Still, would you say there is no eternity?
Only now I would know if you are wrong.

Gypsy Vision

Gypsies lead the sand dune sifters
Follow them through a network of drifters
Navigate the stars with those seven sisters
Walking on to the reef ignoring our blisters

I pick you up like a quasar
You read me out like a shooting star
Out in the desert we’re bound to go far
Mirage on the horizon—some ocean in a jar

"Dreaming spins our restless journey
Guiding tapestries for our caravan
Somewhere between here and eternity
Lies the path of the weathered land..."
-Andy G.

Out by that angry ocean through spheres she sees
Erupting emotion to seize the keys
Landing by the islands and seeking in a hurry
A shaking, quaking storm gone in a flurry

Star dust settling in an ephemeral hour glass
We raise our glasses and toast to the masses
Who held that the universe is a bowl of nuts and berries.
We gander gathering grandeur in the gregarious gallery gallantly gripping the grapes.

Bongo John

player  » launch
visits: 4,855
plays: 20
streams: 20
downloads: 0