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against the wall, the firing squad ready.
then he got a reprieve.
suppose they had shot Dostoevsky?
before he wrote all that?
I suppose it wouldn't have
mattered
not directly.
there are billions of people who have
never read him and never
will.
but as a young man I know that he
got me through the factories,
past the ******,
lifted me high through the night
and put me down
in a better
place.
even while in the bar
drinking with the other
derelicts,
I was glad they gave Dostoevsky a
reprieve,
it gave me one,
allowed me to look directly at those
rancid faces
in my world,
death pointing its finger,
I held fast,
an immaculate drunk
sharing the stinking dark with
my
brothers.
 Aug 2010 Lee Turpin
T. S. Eliot
Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

      A penny for the Old Guy

      I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

      II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

      III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

      IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We ***** together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

      V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                                Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
 Aug 2010 Lee Turpin
Darkin
I hope you know
the way I touch your hands
they are a part of you,
I could never fully understand these wrinkles
and tendons
and the dirt under your nails.
Just like mine.
I just want to hold your hand.
Then a tear
Right on your thumb
spreads through the dirt and makes mucky water
It is very similar to the slums of India.
I see your face.
Oh - and I can't even understand your hands.
You make me shiver.
it was just two people talkin
two people talkin
the thunder of raw life
and "god power" was claimed by both sides
but it was just two people talkin

two waves roared and chrashed into eachother
with a rage and  a fury that shattered the night
two waves roared and chrashed into eachother
but it was just two people talkin

mothers were screamin at the fathers
children went cryin to  the mothers
a world of fear ready to divide
but it was just two people talkin

it was just two people talkin
two people talkin
the thunder of raw life
and "god power" was claimed by both sides
but it was just two people talkin
 Aug 2010 Lee Turpin
Darkin
What have I known, what do I know?
Smiles make me stop and stare.
Those moments.
oh -
Those perfect moments.
I have to stare a little longer.
Linger on your motions.
Your eyes catch mine.
We both have to look away, it is to much
for sight                    for words                    for sounds.
These feelings.
I can reminisce about us.





I remember when I was happy.
I could hold God in my hands.

I am so happy that

you.
And I.

Exist.

It is because of all of you.


I barely make it through the day when I see you.
You see my heart skips a beat...
and then another.

Sometimes I pretend we photographed the escapades of light.
Sometimes I remember the tents on the ocean.
Sometimes I pretend we have seen sun rises.
Sometimes I pretend that we go places no one dares to go.
Sometimes I remember the brevity of our moments.

But don't you remember?
Those are memories.


I don't believe it.
I love you.
She forces me to hang up
at 12:30
I think she's uncomfortable talking to me.
I know she's going to tell
her friends people like me
Feel too.

I'm not people
like I told her.
I'm a lot like the criers
The people in black
Self obsessed in their own self pity.

I'm a horrible mix
Of normal person
And complete social degenerate
To where I can't get along with either.

She's going to tell
All her buddies
who think she's such a great person
That she heard a person like me
cry.

Even more
She's going to tell them
She made me laugh.

She was telling me
How I felt.

“You feel like nothing matters”
She's the world's most depressing hypnotist.

“You feel like you're living shallowly”
Yes.
She's a genius.

I couldn't help
But laugh at the silliness
Of it all.
 Aug 2010 Lee Turpin
Sylvia Plath
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
I did not try to forget you.

At the end of my day,
as I was crashing on my bed,
your voice was resounding in my head,
Don't fall asleep in your work clothes.

The scent of food you made in my kitchen
the aroma of your face, after-shave
the angle your lips formed with a smile
the long fingers tracing down my face
- they were still there,
as if you'd never gone away.

Why are you still thinking about him?
He wasn't worth it

Of course he was, the whole time we spent together.
Lovers know best how long is forever.
Those moments I had with him,
he was worth every one of them.

The streets, the highways, the mountains, the sea
Rain, snow, winds, moon, sunrises, sunsets
We walked, we ran, we drove, we flew through them all.
Until now I cannot get used to the emptiness
of my hands.

The blinds of my window haven't changed,
you said you liked them, for they blocked
glances from those highly unwelcome.
Thus when we made love, they were never up.

They have remained there after you left.
Glances vanished,
and so did the sun.  

And so did my attempt
to forget everything about you.
It does not concern me whether you are here.
To me you are a matter of fact.
To me you are intact.
To me you love me still.
 Jul 2010 Lee Turpin
JJ Hutton
sip
 Jul 2010 Lee Turpin
JJ Hutton
sip
the coffee was cold.
a day old.
i heated it.
poured it.
fought through it.

put on a b-film.
something about crap
films made our lives
feel more fulfilling.

we laughed.
exposed every flaw.
we held hands.
snuck
loving glances.

i have to wake up in three
hours, but all i can think
is life is luck,
even for the dumbest of us,
when you tell your
eyes to open up.
Copyright 2010 by Joshua J. Hutton
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