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Stoneage

  • Last seen on Jul 7 1:47 PM 2007. Member since March 11, 2006.
  • I have 9 comments

My other items

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  • Sadie Hawkins at allpoetry
    you almost died at 15 on a RR crossing.
    I almost died at 18 in a missile silo.
  • Sara's school of love at allpoetry
    I love women from flesh
    to god!
  • I salivate like a beast.! at allpoetry
    I feel like black space with a white hole,
    wrapped in the arms of a snow hurricane
    showing me her black eye.

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  • on If.... by Rudyard Kipling, on March 31, 2006
    If this is what a man is then I will work harder to become a man! Let none be greater or less than me but let me be. So you disagree, forget it, the importance is lost on my transcendental journey.

  • on Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost, on March 26, 2006
    Who walks alone in the night? Or even who rides alone in the night? Can’t you see, what has changed? Snow is a beautiful thing when you are alone, afoot, and miles from home.

    Your comfort, makes you fear the slightest discomfort,
    Your passion for a better life has left you starved.

    I don’t curl by the glowing TV, like an old dog by the fire. I like to walk at night, I’ll take a nettle or two, or a barbed wire fence, but I like to walk at night, even if it is snowing.

    This is what you should get from and old Poem!

  • on A Supermarket In California by Allen Ginsberg, on March 25, 2006
    Yes, What have we lost America? What meadows of Whitman’s poems where the city and the country couldn’t be separated from the smell of manure and hay? What Highways traveled by Kerouac where people had time for conversation and stories? Now, if you can find a box car the doors are always closed, and all the landscape has been carved and reshaped, making room for a neatly tailored McDonalds parking lot. Aw what the hell, let’s just keep writing!

  • on I Sit And Look Out by Walt Whitman, on March 25, 2006
    We must never kid ourselves with our poems, we are not the first, not the last or even the best at announcing the calamity of man. In Whitman it is not really a complaint but a simple observation that goes on and on, that old hippy got it right. “The dude will abide.”