Archive for August, 1976

1976-08-20

Friday, August 20th, 1976
         My friends and all our questions
         our eyes and all we say
         we're all empty and full of the question
         we're all alone with nothing to say.

         Bruce and Mike and Cher
         have come here as my friends
         and now that they've left again
         I've just some bits and ends.

         So empty of answers
         that questions no longer hold much lure
         I mourn my having to work now
         because I know that money's no cure.

         The lesson's get harder at childhood's end
         I hope that we're able, myself and friends
         to survive in a world without the words or time
         to grow older and wiser without feeling like crying.

                                 gallagher
                                 20 aug 76 - buena park

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1976-08-20

Friday, August 20th, 1976
         Empty   Empty   Empty
         not growing.
         Remembering, not knowing.
         Sad, about what?
         nothing...
         Mad about everything
         no alternative?
         look how the year walks by me
         no focus, who am I?...
         just the space around which
         the identification, Dennis Gallagher, exists
         in whatever form I last left it
         who am I, the one pressing in or out or both?
         what's direction...
            complexity's increase,
            knowledge's gain,
            material's owner?
         empty of even questions
            I exist and see only
            the falling leaves of years
            in the lines of my face
         what do I want
            what can I have?
         what will I do
            what can be done?
         do I have a choice
            am I not one?

                                    gallagher
                                    20 aug 76 - buena park

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1976-08-23

Monday, August 23rd, 1976

We're all dying here of boredom and life's mundaneness.
my friends call occasionally to see how it goes with me.
Their tiny voices, across the miles, empty and brave
ask, 'how do you like your job...'
and they'd like to hear that I have the answer...
but they hang up as sad as they called,
when they hear its the same with me.

All the alternatives vanish into the vacuum left
where your dreams used to be.

When security and the real world claim you,
you begin to see yourself as you once saw others;
mice on the treadmills of industries, living dead.

Your muscles grow soft and your eyes lose their snap
and your feeling of self uniqueness becomes self disdain.

All the alternatives vanish into the vacuum left
where your dreams used to be.

                              gallagher
                              23 Aug 76

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —