Elan that lifts me above the clouds
into pure space, timeless, yea eternal
Breath transmuted into words
                Transmuted back to breath
        in one hundred two hundred years
nearly Immortal, Sappho's 26 centuries
of cadenced breathing -- beyond time, clocks, empires, bodies, cars,
chariots, rocket ships skyscrapers, Nation empires
brass walls, polished marble, Inca Artwork
of the mind -- but where's it come from?
Inspiration?  The muses drawing breath for you?  God?
Nah, don't believe it, you'll get entangled in Heaven or Hell --
Guilt power, that makes the heart beat wake all night
flooding mind with space, echoing through future cities, Megalopolis or
Cretan village, Zeus' birth cave Lassithi Plains -- Otsego County
        farmhouse, Kansas front porch?
Buddha's a help, promises ordinary mind no nirvana --
coffee, alcohol, *******, mushrooms, marijuana, laughing gas?
Nope, too heavy for this lightness lifts the brain into blue sky
at May dawn when birds start singing on East 12th street --
Where does it come from, where does it go forever?

                                                May 1996

MUMBAI

The monstrous maddening megalopolis;

Obscure and replusive
yet inviting.

Home to a billion- mirage seekers,
who
withstand,endure &nurse;
their dreams
behind the fringes of misery:
waiting for their turn
lest
chase and collapse
at the door frame of a metaphor !

Where do you go to when you are caught?
The Sandmen will pursue in your dreams
Do you ever give that a second thought?
For he is dutiful and loyal while relentless
The Runner will scurry, even risk us
Putting so many people in the way, he tries to hide
They all clear the way to either side
Francis Seven makes the **** and takes no small amount of pride

The odds for renewal you deny
When you are caught, you die
This is what happens when you run
Francis holsters his gun
Emotionless in the revelry of a crowd
Dead in a fountain, black blossom revealed, his job there is done
Spectators cheer for the violence, so loud
He finds Logan, admiring his son,
And reminds his friend of the balance: “One for one.”

On the way to the Carrousel, to bear witness, they enter Arcade
Where the cabinets burst with all sorts of debauchery and debts to be played
And pass their hedonistic delights, ******, drugs and surgery
Logan all the while curious, Francis cautious of his curiosity
It seems he has doubts of the system, this itself is living dangerously

Donned in white robes and masks, flames crawling up the legs
They stand on the red flower and ascend,
Exploding into dust, with uproarious cheers
The deafening roar for renewal, a spectacle, the question it begs
Is this how we all must meet our end?
Contemplating, the celebration of execution, the last thing anyone hears-
Renewal! Renewal! Renewal! Renewal! Renewal!

But they are called away again, and **** Doyle Ten
With his possessions, they return to headquarters, to report
The mastermind of all time,
The computer, infallible, whose Megalopolis is sublime
Does he care one bit?
These rebels threaten society
He clocks them out with apathy
A servant to civility
Idyllic, perfect, too perfect
A top secret mission, unusually
Called to locate the Runners who have escaped the city,
Confounded by the computer, every moment owed to technology
LOGAN FIVE, FIND AND DESTROY SANCTUARY

One thousand and fifty-six refugees purportedly escaped beyond the wall
Logan’s flower has been activated, his questions answered, there is no renewal,
He slips out to contact a rebel, who can help him escape the city and **** them all
Jessica, who posited this machine was malfunctioning; the object of Logan’s desire
They run together, Francis chases, unwilling to believe until he sees
The seeds of distrust sewn and falsely confirmed, the rebels believe Logan is a killer and a liar
Then their eyes meet, Francis Seven, the unrelenting predator
He hesitates, takes a shot at Jessica, but Logan saves her
In panic and fervor, the fox and the cat, certain they’re done for
Hunted in the ruins beyond the walls, the Sandman turned Runner

What evil irony the pair endure,
To have hope renewed in their travels
Only to find it frozen, killed by a broken machine
One thousand and fifty-six humans, stored in ice
Looking to add two more, before its store collapses
Amazed to be alive, they flee, meeting the old man and his cats
The only other human they’ve seen in their retreat
Better to be stored by Box or shot by Francis, who finds them,
Gone mad with his obsession, his grief and frustration, his desperation serves his defeat
Unwilling to listen to reason, to see through the lies and illusion, these two who were once like brothers now fight
All of the ******, the time and the ruthless, mindless divulgence of decadence, all comes to a head over a blinking light
Logan kills Francis, holding his head in his arms, fitfully delirious ramblings, Logan tries to keep him calm
When he starts up one last time, to say look at your palm
The blinking red and black now clear: “Logan you renewed!”

In the city he reveals the deception of their structure
You can live past thirty! The Carrousel is a lie! You can have a future!
Captured, confronted, questioned and caged, probing his mind
Six spinning heads anger the computer who demands, WHERE IS SANCTUARY, WHAT DID YOU FIND?
Six spinning heads all repeat, that one truth was always so near,
There is no sanctuary here!

The computer shorts out, and soon the Sandmen are destroyed, Logan shoots his way out, the city empties in chaos and fear
Standing on the steps of this erupted crater of truth, Logan and Jessica are looking out as a pair
All people are free, they gather around the old man, something they never imagined they would see
Some touch him, in awe, some simply stare
Sometimes there’s no time to run, no time to live; it all hardly seems fair
Something is certainly different when there is hope, there is a change in the air
Somehow alive, the Sandman who ran to the finish and managed to survive, Logan Five has time to spare.

i belong to the daybreak
when humans with sleepy eyes
and mousy morning hearts
are brave enough to face
the scarily mundane world once again.

i belong to nature
to the hidden wonders of the world
there's unknown modern hanging gardens of babylon
and the secret sanctuaries
where the teenagers of the megalopolis
go to rest.

i belong to the ocean
in the deepest trenches
no man has seen
where it is quiet and still
and darkness reigns supreme.

i belong to outer space
in the galaxies who are
strangers we'd like to know
there's dark matter that swirls
space dust coalesces
and stars are born to die all over again.

i belong to the rain
when the sky cries and
the typhoons turn to drizzle
the water runs through
empty houses and thrift stores in the gutters
and on and on, to underground,
to God knows where.

i belong to the night
to the time when the busiest people
submit to slumber
but a few who are not
bothered by lightyears
sit by their windowsills
to watch the stars.

*i belong to the world
and the world belongs to me.

(6W)

Sleep my children, you, not forgot.

Postscript:
Lured you here under false pretenses
What matters six or ten or
Nine eleven,
When each word enervates the midnite senses.

Through chance or fate,
You, selected on that date,
Thy names inscribed,
A select few, a chosen tribe.

In a megalopolis,
Where hurry and rush,
The hallmarks of the populace,
A city oft condemned as heartless,
Your place, your alphabet unique,
Permanently preserved.

Rest easy then,
Tho our names will be dust and forgot,
You individually, collectively,
Will be remembered eons on.

No need to economize,
Tears, the numbers of words,
Draw some comfort, tho minimized,
Your names, this day, all recalled,
Thus I bless you,
As you bless us,
**Sleep my children, you, not forgot.

Ocean: When you are legendary

Utopia of lost Atlantis
Sunken city asleep
Under pillars of larimars
Plato’s wisdom once bestowed
Untold magic and sacred stones

A surge of madness, whips of rain
Battling down the hull of a boat
From beneath the profound chaos
The Kraken, furious, emerges
The ship is wrecked, turned into dust!

Ocean: When you are awe-ful

A breeze flows, ***** sea gloats!
What a beautiful mess- debris floats
With a quest for vengeance
Opposing swells are relentless
Casting spells on the defenseless

The ocean is endless, it's stupendous
Guarded by deep clouds - tremendous
Dreams drown staring at these clouds
Feels proud, someone from the deep down
A half-asleep Kraken screams loud

Ocean: When you are ritualistic

Fresh and salty energetic waves
Diving the dreamer into a megalopolis
Of scaled goddesses performing a ballet
Invited to a very cruel and festive banquet
Colorful, an aquatic aurora borealis of blood

In which the mythical mermaid sings
Skimming her *******, a pendant of aquamarine
She is Pacific, lustrous and libertine
Her voice enchanting the remotest sea-temple
On the surface, the waters suddenly turned red

Ocean: When you are watery hell

On the horizon, the wide blue yonder scribbled
A storm surge, the dreamer lost urge
Hope purged and dwindled, waves got stained
Silently an atrocious maelstrom wiggled
There the sea-temple stood naked and belittled

Resonating to the sound of an unheard curse
From the inside of the mermaid's purse
An enigma, a blank verse - unfathomable
Making the deep not amicable yet diverse
The ocean is inhabitable still, unnavigable

Written between December 17, 2019 and January 17, 2020
Cc Jordan Rains and cc Appoline Romanens

Out of sorts
At least I am out
New sort of me
In a new part of town
While the same old doubts
Whip about
None of this was here before
Not that I knew of
It certainly did not
Spring forth
Out of the blue
It just feels that way
Unplanned
Yet inevitable
Steel and glass monoliths
Shatter and break
The tarmac
What was
Once a barren streetscape
Neglected opportunity
Now is a grand opening
From desolate
To prescient
A megalopolis
Of mindfulness
That reflects back
The question
What do you want
These vessels
To be
Window dressings
All this
Brand newness
An exercise
Is not an exorcism
Just
A rebranding
Of emptiness

The dream is retro
with a lot of chrome

and indecipherable
structures
basking in two suns

I think I'm in a rocket car
maybe a bus or train

it could be I'm flying
arms akimbo
by moveable windows

and things that might be other
people in spacesuits

pass me up or cut me off
and at night ads for

toothpaste in a gleaming
silver tube

are broadcast against
an obsidian sky

are we there yet or
did I sleep through it all

Whit Howland © 2020

"The arrogance of man is thinking [the economy] is in [their] control,
and not the other way around."

[And, silent,]

"Somewhere in [the] sands of [time]
A shape with [monkey] body and the head of [the many],  
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.  
The darkness drops again, but now [we] know  
That [two decades] of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards [Megalopolis] to be born?

"You have no idea what's coming"

"The top of a [social] ecosystem, [a monster for all intents and purposes.]"

"...a monster?...
no...

A god!"

The old city
Under its gray sky
It has lost its former splendor.
Monstrous megalopolis
Scattered among the sands
And the Rimac River.
Boiling cauldron
Where they converge
All the bloods.
From your port
Tons of ******* are released
Towards a decadent Europe
And their venal politicians
They are recycled with every new choice.
And yet
Poetry, stubborn, continues to grow
Like a voluptuous maguey flower
In the middle of the desert.

Flinty stones figuratively rolling inside
whooping out that primal
binaural beat of your drum
ma mind haphazardly
ricocheting axon to neuron
inducing inxs of chaos
wreaking entropy beheld
by beauty and the beast
enveloping means to enjoy
sacred moments treasured

savoring, seizing, and signaling salad days
because you’re young
within reliquary of fragile cerebral dome
croaking before proving betty wrong
frost bitten cyber surfing
butter fingers glove lee hutted,
inciting ire of uncle sam i.e. big brother
flitting to n fro-hither n yon
microscopic wingspan
encompassing the greensward

from black country rock
in search of poem I can offer,
fancying this nonestablishmentarian
wearing a black tie white noise
thus herewith meanders
this binary, a lobbed
bot tommy bit wan
burning cheeks when power
restored from blackout
being bitta bing bitta bang

resonating with nonsense syllables
blah blah blah
non supernova star
provided location to scan
oozing life source when mum
did bleed like a crazed dad
from other end of earth lan
ding soft as a well-
worn pair of blue jeans
(weighed with ire -

that rocks me precariously
dodging fisticuffs from
beastie boys keep swinging
upon precipice of kat man do) I ran
creating the rush of breaking glass
here comes chaste,
cher full sunny (bono fide)
indulging the audience
with a brilliant adventure
super duper man to provide aid,

where panting damsel in distress
clamoring for someone
to bring me the disco king
no matter out of breath
sagging  pants like whirring fan
whining intonations iterated
from buddha of suburbia
self propelled from...flatulence
from consuming whey to much bran.

Well, I (with forrest gump by my side) attest
stinging cactus
life haint no box of heart shaped chalk a lits
hoping thee can you hear me
for snapping jaws of zee bill collectors
to tittle late each breast
pounding pulsations indicative
perchance can’t help thinking about me
this bloke shipwreck tubby
one of hue man species best

vying with a slew
of many presidential candidate
buys to hire, a modest fellow
meowing as purr ring cat people
who does not thump his genetic chest
indicating positive changes
like an alpinist
scale lean ***** o mount everest
yodeling millennial chant
of the ever circling skeletal family

enjoying breathtaking view as visual fest
with a mild manner demeanor
as like some guest
kindling warmth against the chilly down
a lighthearted genteel friendly dude,
one who doth like to jest
flirting delightfully with a lovely china girl
lest
shattering porcelain damsel
clatters with a ching a ling

age inappropriate actions
get this opportunity messed
decrying the rampant killing at columbine
since initial writing of these lines
other school shootings
up in order to support dependents in this nest
espying a sale asia come and buy my toys
with me hen pecking spouse
i.e. argh quite thee pest
repeating ad infinitum

the death of david bowie
as conversation piece
though now back on track
sans per philanthropist quest
annihilating with urban blight
a megalopolis crack city
in order to put msn
(miss in) mailer daemons
the mind of this live earth-linked cool

ostracizing once famous,
but now cracked actor
hotmail yahoo at rest
praying not to become firearm fodder
from this criminal world
according to sir isaac newton
when object least stressed
maintaining molecular composition
wrought like crystal japan.

HEAVENLY STANZA INTERRUPTION TWO