Adventures with an Olivetti

(In which the scrivener violates his rule never to write in the first-person)

My bed was a Sears & Roebuck sleeping bag
And my world headquarters that old MG;
An Olivetti portable processed
My words, my fresh young words, that no one read

I owned more books than clothes, and only those few
That could be stowed in the passenger seat;
I fancied myself the new Rod McKuen
And I wasn’t - but I remember the road

When the world was new, adventures every day
And I miss that - but mattresses are nice

Secret thoughts like raindrops

on the rings of Saturn,

things forever lost

float into mind

on rivers of golden words

written with budding lips,

scribbled by satirically serious fingers,

or pounded with mechanical keys,

portable, painful, with ribbon tedious to thread.

My darling Olive

with your boxy frame,

sky white skin

and sticky fingers.

how methodical and slow

our fighting dance.

How joyful

the new agonies that await us.

Joyful new crimes, joyfully jogging type bars, joyfully resisting

joyful beneath

Shuddering, trembling,

flowing over with sweat and *******.

Pulling men to flame

ripping off their wings

Ripping men into

meandering, lost thought vehicles,

perpetual machines of confusion and shame.

Ripping men into ribcages,

pulling at the sinew

until we actually have become moths.

Flesh turned inside out

With the smallest words imaginable.

Men slunk to sand

With the smallest words imaginable.

Determination set to dust

with the smallest words imaginable.

Women shredding men into typewriter ribbons,

with the smallest words imaginable.

“I Hate You”

pulling cupboards out of walls,

breaking bathroom faucets,

“I Love You”

pulling the skin off

like socks.

I woke to a thunderstorm's
howling winds and staggering rains
shaking and hammering against
my wooden framed window panes—
And no more than seconds later
shattered glass became the new rug
and the rain poured through the new hole in the wall
followed by flaring flashes and unrelenting growls from an ebony sky.
Cautiously I rose and made way to my old Olivetti
pounding the keys explaining how nature spoke to me—
Quickly, angrily, and violently,
urging me to keep my eyes open, my chin up and shoulders square
because the worst of the storm has yet to come and one may never know
what may occur at any hour of the day.

(An mémwa granfré an mwen Dodo, frè jimo a Roderik, ki disparèt an *** lanmè koté Sentlisi lé disèt maws démildisèt anbo kanno ay, In God we Troust, menm jou ti frè an mwen Toto fété swasantkatran ay)

Lè Manzè Frégat, on vyé zwazo épi tèt a sizo lan mè, rivé

Konpè Dodo té ka ba dé kudmachwa adan on ponm arak kon i té ni vyé labitid fè

Dépi lé i té ti manmay chak trwazyèm vandrèdi a mars o pipiri chantan

Sété on sèl pélrinaj pou y té pran gou a sé prèmyé ponm malaka ki té vinn friktifyé

Vyé zwazo la diy konsa: « chaben, apakonsa zafè ka fèt ! avan ou té sèvi kow, avan menm ou té comansé manjé plen vant aw, ou té dwèt ban mwen lajan an mwen, ban mwen sa anfwamenm »

Konpè Dodo pa enmé pon vyé zwazo diy pon vyé biten ! I wondi bouch, i toufé, i manké tranglé :

-Ki pawol a foumi fou ki la ? i taw ?

-i tan mwen. ban mwen lajan an mwen, man, ou alo, ranjé zafè aw byen pas dènyé vandrèdi aw rivé !

ou pé kriyéy jan ou vlé malaba, malaka, kwachimelon, otaheite, pomme d’amour, ponm tayti, manzana malaya, séw ki sav, ou pa papay

sé mwen ki mèt ay, ou tann ! Ou tann byen !? Pa fè mwen trapé dézod épiw

Pa fè mwen jiréw, avan ou ay pran zafè a moun prokiré sav ki moun ki mèt a kann la

mwen ja las jouwé domino épiw, kouté sa byen, wouvè gran zorey aw ! An ja diw sa, yo ka kriyé mwen an lot koté Jambo, Prensès Scisour Lanmè

mwen pa vlé sav si ou métodis si ou advantis si ou ka fè penti

si ou rosikrisyen si ou catolik ou si ou ka trasé lèt asi olivetti

si bon dyé aw vodou, endou, ou témwendjéova, fwa aw sé taw, tan mwen sé tan mwen,

Non an mwen pa Séza non an mwen pa Bondyé sé Jambo

ponm arak ta la sé tan mwen, sé awryè granpapa granpapa mwen ki té arawak

ki plantéy, si ou vlé sav, ban mwen diw on ti biten malgré vyé mannyé érétik ou ni dépi toupiti. ou ka ékri tout koté « In God we Troust » sé pousa ou dwèt ka vinn trousé mwen ! foutémwa likan, espèce de malélivé

manjé kénèt aw ou chenet aw ponmsitè aw fé sa ou vlé épi yo mé pa mannyé vyé pyé ponm arak an mwen

sa ja ka fè plis ki katvensètan ou ka fé la fèt asi pyé ponm arak ta la

Ou pa sa li fransé , chaben ? espèce en voie d’extinction! An ké diw li on lot fwa an nanglè si ou pa vlé tann fransé

Endangered species !

Mé Kompè Dodo pa té vlé tann march ! Kompè Dodo mété koy ri ! I pa té pé rété ! Telman i té ka ri i té ka pléré !

Ki jan i té kay péyé pou on ponm arak pou on vyé frégat malkadik, dapréy non ay té « Prinsès Scisour Lanmè »

Manzè Frégat ou ni on jan dapréw ou sé yen a dan lé trwa Moiw, on Manzé Atropos

Konsidiré séw ki mèt a bobiné é débobiné

Mé apa mwen ou ké kouyoné, sé pa jodi jou disèt mars pon vyé zonbi ké koupé filsèvolan mwen

Banw diw sa, Tiré gran zèl nwè aw anba la pli la é ay pozé kow anba on pyé kowosol

Demen samdi avan jou ouvè mwen ké vinn kué ti ponm arak an mwen

Manzè Fregat pa pèd tan, vitman i poté mannèv, i anki ouvè gran gèl ay, bèk ay té ka parèt sizo

I vorey i varéy i valéy, i wotéy – zyé a zwazo la té ka sanm on sèl fé dartifis woz fichyia –

A las siete y media de la mañana, eran las siete y media en punto de la mañana

Kompè Dodo bat dènyé ti domino ay, a las siete y media de la mañana

Manzè Frégat comansé ranjé tou dousman sé domino la an bwat a domino la

Epi rès a ponm arak la i préparé pouy on ponch ponm malaka.

Sé pa pou ayen ni on proverb ki ka i konsa:

Pa jen jouwé domino épi on frégat si ou ka dwouéy on biten.

as I sat here alone tonight
I took my look around the place
listening to the magical, talented
voice of Mr. Leon Bridges
and begin to think about
people who I once knew, but
now are strangers, and strangers
who are kind of a family now
and those who've never left my side
I think about past flings
long nights, days of tears
weeks of uncertainty, years of regret
thoughts that only run though me
when I'm alone and its just that

It's my drink, my pasta
and this original Olivetti typer tonight
which pretty much sums up my life
and I realize how short the time
we have, we are gone so quickly
I see the world go by everyday
the bus drivers, the fellas goin' to work
girls at the bus stop, the lawyers
the mothers, the fathers, the children
I sometimes feel if nobody moved
if we didn't make the day rise up
would the world even spin around
we are so ******* important
and there is too many people
with closed eyes, waiting for the day to die

so here's to the artists
the unapologetic, the mother *******
the lovers, the insane
the everyday man not afraid of the morning

We are against the death penalty, and so
Of thoughtful caritas one recommends
Life sentences with no chance for parole
(And endless-loop re-runs of Lost in Space)

For

1. The manufacturers of this new computer
2. The famous software company who couldn’t
         Program their ///es out of a pay toilet
3. And the electronics chain who replies
        To emails with “Dear Valued Customer”

And vaporous words which say nothing at all

And now may Olivetti Underwood
Have mercy upon their polluted souls

He is the bystander
watching as the words drop
to meander amongst the
audience
when the show ends
he becomes
deactivated
demotivated
putting away his thoughts of the day
and those wallowing’s of his following
on social media sites.

The hundreds of nights before and the
ones that will come
stun
his senses,

sidestepping the tut tutting,
the mutterings of the jealous
and the old press cuttings that
fall from a drawer to remind him
of a time when
he wasn’t as good as he
would become
he sees the sun rise over the Olivetti,
a ribbon trails across the floor.

An age is upon him
wearing the old bones
thin.

fin.
© 2017, John Smallshaw.

“Ransomware Cripples Cities”

                            -a common headline

Ransomware never crippled an Olivetti
But a broken spring did so once or twice
So I carried the old machine to old Bill
Whose magic always made it fly again

Ransomware never crippled a cardboard file
Nor yet the flyleaf of the book in which
She wrote the kindest sentiment of love
In the sweet optimism of our youth

Ransomware never crippled who we were -
I did that to us when I walked away

Big Ben's still bonging
and
I see nothing wrong
in that.

Endurance
is the keystone,

all roads lead you to home,
Rome's in a different country
which Pierluigi Adolini
tells me is called
Italy.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
https://poeticdrivel.blogspot.com/

                          The Cruise of HMS Disreputable

                                                                        For myself,
                    I knew as soon as I could read and write
                   That I must be a poet.

                                        -Sir John Betjeman

I left Mesquite and broken promises
In the after-market rear-view mirror
Bolted to the wing of my third-hand MG
And rattled along that magic road to the west

Sleeping bag, Olivetti portable
Dostoyevsky, Yevtushenko, some clothes
An honorable discharge from a dishonorable war
A few undistinguished undergraduate credits

And now…

I have left behind my Nobel acceptance speech
Because the journey will have to be enough