Archive for 1977

1977-06-09

Thursday, June 9th, 1977

         So lost on the path am I
            that I grow weary of the pleasures here
               my soul burnt out from my crossways drives.

         Sometimes my eyes get so old I can hear them say,
            'Let me smile again, young and clean,
               on something I've not seen before.'

         The human condition, mine, so burnt out and jaded
            I writhe against my soul and passions
               like an animal trying to get free.

         But the years and habits like mycellium creep
            through the brighter ways I've known
               until I scarcely know I've ever been otherwise.

         Until the face in the mirror is mine and its dying
            wastrel, I've chosen how to spend my time
               pressed against my senses like some tourist
                  until I can't remember what I've bet.

                              gallagher
                              06-09-77

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1977-06-15

Wednesday, June 15th, 1977

            End the crazy years and come down my friend
            you've turned from the task into fortune and flesh.
            There's no money or smiles can ease your turning.
            Find where the wind blows the hardest and go,
            seek the source of all your losing.

                                       gallagher
                                       15 Jun 77

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1977-07-03

Sunday, July 3rd, 1977

         How hideously quiet, the house waits.
         Our lives, here, churning beneath the empty moments....

           It gapes at the sound of our breathing
           and the incandescent lamps bring our still photos to life
         Again, our love is bending to form.

         She calls 'derelict' at me
         for the acid I take and I resent her pushing at my fun.

           She points at me as the deviant drug doer
           on my way to the imminent fall.

         And I feel like a confused young professional
         in need of a little direction.

           I'm sound...I just don't care much.
           There's too many deep currents
         running in me at cross purposes.
         Too many dreams and realities.

         Too many blessings and blemishes.
           I'm a bigger baby than ever at thirty
           about to fall out of the crib again.

                                 gallagher
                                 3 July 1977 - lsd

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —