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 Dec 2016 Micahel De Tomasso
AB
Do you remember...

The touch of supple fingers
Against cheeks of pastel vermilion,
Rendering vertigo and scuttling breathing...

Voracious glances luring bodies closer...
Anxious eyes &
Trembling lips coalescing?

...how could I forget?
Hey kid, whatcha doing here
Has it already been a year
Father time is all grown up
2017 I wish you luck

Years gone by to tell the truth
Have been more than a bit rough on you
It's time to pass off the baton
To the new kid on the block

This new kid to come along
We hope to fatten him all up
With the best of everything
All the goodies life can bring

We'll treat this year like no other
Save the baby and bathwater
Keep him around until he's old
Polishing the silver, shining the gold

As every year we hold out hope
That this one's not all that she wrote
Oh and if you don't mind,
One more thing
Will you get the phone...
I think I hear the New Year ring
 Dec 2016 Micahel De Tomasso
Colm
To be bold as love
Is not to fear the alone
As the italic
Does not tend to bend so much
As the mind itself does mold
A tanka for you
 Dec 2016 Micahel De Tomasso
L B
“…Take your place on the Great Mandala as it moves through your brief moment of time…
Win or lose now
You must choose now
and if you lose, you’re only losing your life…”  Peter, Paul, and Mary
___________

Stitching the hem of a prom dress to the
Chicago Convention on TV
Pink brocade, white gloves to the elbow

Night sticks snap skulls

“...and a time on a 27 will always shine a light”

Seven Day War
but neither of us dance

Whispered under weeping willows
“What will become of us?”

“The New Left” scrawled in my yearbook
under Danny’s name
I stared at him puzzled, half-attracted

The New Left came
from Harvard, Radcliffe, Mars?
to the grimy streets of Lowell
to teach us “worker kids”
‘bout our sorry selves

Aloof
from our bad teeth, unplanned pregnancies
stuccoed bungalows
chrome kitchen sets circa ’53
So far beyond

Alienated
by our worn out dens
with proud TV’s
the evening’s beer proclivity

They, weren’t “Right on!”
with the smell of furniture polish and
lifetimes of motor oil on overalls

We were okay to be organized though
before they left—

Because they knew what mattered!
…and “How could WE  know so little!
‘bout Lenin, Marx?
the exploits of profit and endless war?"

How could THEY know so little—
  
about the death down the street
‘bout the conflict caused by *in-house “Pigs”

Husbands in Canada
Brothers in Nam

Dying small-town, piece-work kids
Labor's legacy
Lost bourgeois

Freezing on street corners
Telephone’s tapped
Handing out leaflets

to talk of guns...

“Our people blew up the Bank of America!
You know”

To talk of guns…

While Black Panthers were dying
No ******' around

Hell’s Angels—  graphite ghosts
hover in ****** shadows of shared back yard
Revolutionary panic as
mafia muscle makes an appearance
comes-on to me
sped-up and pulls a pistol!…
_____

Guts ran out the holes in my head

Lonely now
…and not so… ready?

Someone suggested “experience”
to explain for certain
the face on the clock
the of wince of Time
and all the reasons there were to die

Should ‘ave asked why— they called it “acid”

Connecting the dots of despair
I saw it all— for the first time

and lost— everything
*in-house pigs:   cops in the family

Definitely a GOOD LISTEN.
Another amazing song from Susan's dorm room: The Great Mandala--
Peter, Paul, and Mary-- probably their best and most important song!

6https://www.google.com/search?q=the+great+mandala+peter+paul+and+mary+you+tube&ie;=utf-8&oe;=utf-8

This was the height of the American Civil Rights and Anti War
Movements of the late 1960s.
I was trying to capture something of the American despair and drive for change of that time. Not all of us were drugged hippie flower children. Some of us actually saw the extent of the loss around us, and in my case, anyway, thought I was witnessing the last possibility for change-- the last throes of conscience of a once hopeful people.
I was also really young, facing what I am sure now, was the truth and was really afraid of dying. Thought acid (LSD) would reveal meaning-- sort of a religious search.  Only did it once-- You know what they say about "What never happens the first time..."  Happened.
And so, an ending, just one,
before another beginning.
How much do you need to know
in any lifetime, long or short?
Do not fear death. Breathe deeply.
Embrace multitudes. Love whom you can.
Speak truth to power. Try to be
the best person you can be,
however imperfectly. Be willing
to fail with great joy;
to succeed with gratitude.
There is no best time to live.
There is only being alive.
Each moment leads only to
another present. Be in it. Be it.
And then, soon enough, be gone.
I feel like I have been writing the same poems over and over. I would welcome a writing prompt from anyone.
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