Archive for the ‘Exposure’ Category

« Newer poems
Older poems »

1975-10-30

Thursday, October 30th, 1975 
           An old man at twenty-eight
           is how I feel sometimes
           out of ideals and things worth doing
           some deluded dreamer drifting
           on the backwash of grace.
           A grace which forever dries, as I approach the source.
           Too frail to take life by storm
           and too strong to let it pass quietly
           I'm forever in the jangle space
           between senselessness
           and my longing for purpose.
           And to the end of logic and back
           many times I've been...
           pressed against the mirror of faith there
           I've seen, too often, nothing but my own eyes
           staring back.
                                    gallagher
                                    30 Oct 75

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1975, Catalyst2, Long Beach | No Comments »

1976-08-20

Friday, August 20th, 1976 
         There's no time, there is no reason
         I'm lost in the turn of the year.

         I want to cry out for some season
         where the wind blows slower apace.

         I cannot find what I'm here for
         and it seems the quest is lost
         amid the hurrying moments and fragments
         and, ah, how I fear this loss...

         Another life lost here on this rock
         speck in God's eye
         another lesson to be learned once again then
         and still the wind refused to die.

         The hours and minutes fill up
         and the material world's catching hold
         every time I look in the mirror
         I see I'm growing old.

         How, how did you catch me
         sly devil that you are
         in this place where the wind never slackens
         and only I can hear the mirror sigh.

         I'm not here to fill in the pattern
         or lay another stone on the way
         I want to live as if it mattered
         and when I die I want to go away.

                           gallagher
                           20 aug 76 - buena park

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

Posted in 1976, Buena Park, Poetry Collective | No Comments »

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 —

Posted in 1976, Long Beach, Poetry Collective | No Comments »

« Newer poems
Older poems »