Archive for the ‘Lucy’s Diamonds’ Category

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 —

1978-01-30

Monday, January 30th, 1978
      My self opinion has been independent
      of what I do, not because of it.

      Think of what they cannot take from you
      your mind, your attitude, your health -
      but very little else.

      Age goes, love goes, success goes,
      money goes, even health in the end,
      though you tend the flame.

      Then it's down to you
      somewhere below your mind and attitude
      (acid takes me to a timeless place)
      then it's down to you,
      and when death comes to knock
      you have to give up even this.

      Its all relative
      every circle spins down
      to the same center
      its all relative.

                                 gallagher
                                 jan 30, 78
                                 Acid tripping'

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1978-01-30

Monday, January 30th, 1978
         I want to make sure
         when it comes time for my accounting
         that I've lived it as I should have,
         no regrets;
         otherwise it just makes no sense.

         All afternoon, the afternoon past.
         Armchair scholar of my life,
         I astride my poems and memories
         sifting ... looking for me.

         Years gone by here again
         those weeks and months
         when I loved Sharon Freeman so deeply
         and Maxine finally saved me from ruin.

         And in the afternoon I finally called Maxine
         and found out how she was.

                                 gallagher
                                 jan 30, 78
                                 Acid tripping'

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —