POEMS
by
Reinhard A. Palovcik
Edited by Tom Miller
© 1995, 1996
Reinhard A. Palovcik
and FREDInk Records
Revealing dimensions
some touching
some bizarre
from the mind of the author
Reflection
In that brief instant of life
I was child
young man
old man
dying
Recalling in that moment before death
One sparkling summer day
fragrant breeze under crystal blue sky
ringing with bright expectation
Expecting soon
some secret spiritual fulfillment
While they prospered from their greed and petty lies
I suffered for them
for their blindness
And for their victims
starving and cold
They devoured the world around them
to gratify their raging desires
Like addicts
searching only for every next pleasure
Unstoppable
with great momentum
But their lives also ran out
And their headstones
now monuments to their inhuman deeds
Loss
To hear that voice
to again look into those eyes
To feel, again, the loss
tearing
ripping me apart
Years of regret
years of forgetting
Vanish in the instant of that familiar smile
So long ago
I gave it all
to no avail
Here she is again
in all her radiant beauty
The purity and innocence of her spirit
That so long ago captured my heart
Once again
the only real escape
death
Worthless
The languid worthlessness of my life
I was so good
I topped them all
Outsmarted every one
Only to then be faced
with that monstrous enormity of
Universe
time
and death
Erosion
I will not resist death
I hold nothing dear
My own small fragments of love
let them not challenge my expiration to dust
to nothingness
Let me dissolve gradually
as slowing and ending thoughts
erode my awareness of you
Never
And she never was
is not now
and never can be mine
Out of bitterness
I blast
all those ecstatic
fulfilled lovers
May they wallow
in their lustful transgressions
Chasing
that ever-quickening
instant
of orgasm
that balms their raw-torn nerves
Trying to escape the plodding pulse of time
that ever so slowly sucks their breath away
But if in that numbing flash
of coming
they new life create
Pray, let it not follow
my
own
narrow
blind
path
to hell
Hiroshima
For so many
no new day
dawning with hope
The lucky ones
boiled away
in the flash
For those burnt canisters of flesh
With their blank stares of blindness
Still able to walk, but not to smile
Every new
unendurable moment
filled with pain
Every new hour
longing for an easy death
And those unlucky few survivors
Who escaped unscathed
only to feel the gradual rotting
of their radiated bones
Blind Drive
Bare concrete
the soft flesh of your body
Grinding gears
legs suggestively splayed
Single blossom
yet unbloomed
Symbol of your innocence
In that ripe instant of time
when frost melts on glass
The inertia of our lust
sacrifices all inhibition
We become caught
in a hurricane of obsession
Clothes stripped
sweet embrace
Eyes to eyes
consciousness merged
to a single purpose
fingers fly over flesh
With tenderness
and hesitation
A gap is breached
Flesh upon flesh
motion to motion
a primal dance begins
Loin to loin
leg to leg
This friction of flesh works its way, slowly
To that hidden animal brain we all share
Exploding in starburst rhythm
Tingling tendrils of pleasure
Pulse through nerve and fiber
Fulfilling a programmed mission
In that moment of ultimate fulfillment
One forgets the other
Sucking intellect and judgment
Down a narrow path
From which some never return
A Meditation
Staring into space
into nothingness
Blank visual field
whether white or black
It hardly matters
black bleaches to white
white blinks out to black
Featureless
empty
Into that homogeneous emptiness
Thoughts intrude Where am I?
What time is it?
No answers
Only blankness
continuous
empty
From left to right
Top
To
Bottom
Within that void an anticipation begins
A gradual building of nervous expectation
From once empty space lines
curves
shapes
emerge
only to again
collapse
quickly
back
into
that
void
.
.
A single point, infinitesimally small
representing
nothing
nothing
nothing
But not the absence of everything
Because there remains
nothing
Nothing to see,
but also, nothing to hear
nothing to say
Astral Projection
Preparations laid, bills paid, worries laid to rest
Skeletons and ghosts of the past, forced to vacation
First
posture established
Deep meditation begins
Muscles tense
relax
tense
repeatedly
Concentration
traces of bodily sensation removed
Mind is isolated
moves upward
Imaging
downward
a glowing umbilical
Stretches back to body
poised in posture
motionless except for shallow breath
Mind expands outward
A sensation of breeze
Swaying tree branches
Hollow, echoing squawks of distant birds
A Life's Work
Bloodshot eyes
the reek of stale tobacco smoke
He stares down at his hands
In his calluses sees the life he has wrought
Each long day gnaws away
another segment of this game
Labors to eat, to clothe, to pay
all those perpetually mounting bills
Chained to existence
by compulsive expectations of family and friends
He drinks deeply to drain his displeasure
and sinks into a numbness of nonbeing
Only to again awaken to go to work
The Core
Staring in to that center
behind the eyes
Inside: thoughts, feelings
Outside: action <--> reaction
Inside: chaotic baseline
from which patterns emerge
mirroring the image of
Outside: shapes of pistons pounding in rhythm
Inside: shapes of erotic acts
Process: excitation
intention
motor patterns emerge
machines
moving with increasing tempo
harmonic resonance
instinctual alignment
Inside:
turbulance
clouds obscure reason
mixed images of past loves, past lives
rancid reality intudes as face flushes
worms devour the ego
A distant clanging of Buddhist bells is heard
as a deeper reality coalesces
Empty Life
Empty life, raw reality
No balm of wealthy excesses
Pure, simple earthen chaos
The content of our last moments
Why did we not see this earlier
To guide us away from that
self-delusional mirage of
ego-fulfilled gratification
To understand that we live only once
That the present act passes permanent judgement
on our failures, our misdeeds
Understanding those final moments
of realization before death
Let us live pure truth
love without expectation
Discard money
possessions
lies
jealousy
Let us hold nothing in restraint
and follow our true course to its natural end
Cycle
You give your love freely to all
Compelled by a wilderness of chaos
In naked perfidy, without shame
Driven by programmed instinct
Your primitive ganglia seize control
Drive muscles in coordinated rhythm
To achieve that instant of completion
What follows: raw depression
Realization of ultimate mortality
Death upon death
Generation follows generation
In a never ending cycle
of pleasure and pain
Two Virgins
Two virgins, each waiting for a lover
One expecting marriage
the other, fulfillment
Double date, dinner, dessert
Followed by: music, seduction, orgasm
The marriage-bound weaves a web
of schizophrenic obsession
to pursue an unobtainable
goal of complete possession
The fulfillment-bound, bounds off
to a new love
achieving another
and yet another conquest
Neither understands the futility of
her goal-oriented pursuit
The true path is found within a narrow
range of chaotic interaction
part saint part slut
in equal balance
Villum
Hey Hey Villum
dost mock millum?
Thrillum, chillum, drillum, killum
Fillum with no knock nillum
Knock, knock, who's there?
Care bear, spare snare
Mare scare, hare stare
Fuck a duck, duck a fuck
In suck muck luck stuck
He eats, shits, reeks, speaks
"Get me out of here!"
Morph
The shape, the form of the universe:
A supergiant sphere of roughly distributed,
expanding stardust
Originating from a primary burst,
Ten or twenty billion years ago.
That shape, that form,
within the content of our universe
of over 20 billion galaxies
Is the manifestation of a multidimensional
nonlinear equation
With spatial coordinates very much greater than one
and a negative time value,
All nested within a dimensional
representation of process.
The spatial aspects clearly have
Mandelbrot derivative dynamics,
Within an infinity of coefficient varying
morphoses
There lie those values specific to our space and time.
Suckedry
Over and over again, she sucked him dry
Drained his scrotum of those essential
life-generating fluids
Until he was but a heaving, pulpy shell
Wheezing with every breath through
the large hole in his groin
He asked himself, "Is this love?"
by
Reinhard A. Palovcik
Edited by Tom Miller
© 1995, 1996
Reinhard A. Palovcik
and FREDInk Records
Revealing dimensions
some touching
some bizarre
from the mind of the author
Reflection
In that brief instant of life
I was child
young man
old man
dying
Recalling in that moment before death
One sparkling summer day
fragrant breeze under crystal blue sky
ringing with bright expectation
Expecting soon
some secret spiritual fulfillment
While they prospered from their greed and petty lies
I suffered for them
for their blindness
And for their victims
starving and cold
They devoured the world around them
to gratify their raging desires
Like addicts
searching only for every next pleasure
Unstoppable
with great momentum
But their lives also ran out
And their headstones
now monuments to their inhuman deeds
Loss
To hear that voice
to again look into those eyes
To feel, again, the loss
tearing
ripping me apart
Years of regret
years of forgetting
Vanish in the instant of that familiar smile
So long ago
I gave it all
to no avail
Here she is again
in all her radiant beauty
The purity and innocence of her spirit
That so long ago captured my heart
Once again
the only real escape
death
Worthless
The languid worthlessness of my life
I was so good
I topped them all
Outsmarted every one
Only to then be faced
with that monstrous enormity of
Universe
time
and death
Erosion
I will not resist death
I hold nothing dear
My own small fragments of love
let them not challenge my expiration to dust
to nothingness
Let me dissolve gradually
as slowing and ending thoughts
erode my awareness of you
Never
And she never was
is not now
and never can be mine
Out of bitterness
I blast
all those ecstatic
fulfilled lovers
May they wallow
in their lustful transgressions
Chasing
that ever-quickening
instant
of orgasm
that balms their raw-torn nerves
Trying to escape the plodding pulse of time
that ever so slowly sucks their breath away
But if in that numbing flash
of coming
they new life create
Pray, let it not follow
my
own
narrow
blind
path
to hell
Hiroshima
For so many
no new day
dawning with hope
The lucky ones
boiled away
in the flash
For those burnt canisters of flesh
With their blank stares of blindness
Still able to walk, but not to smile
Every new
unendurable moment
filled with pain
Every new hour
longing for an easy death
And those unlucky few survivors
Who escaped unscathed
only to feel the gradual rotting
of their radiated bones
Blind Drive
Bare concrete
the soft flesh of your body
Grinding gears
legs suggestively splayed
Single blossom
yet unbloomed
Symbol of your innocence
In that ripe instant of time
when frost melts on glass
The inertia of our lust
sacrifices all inhibition
We become caught
in a hurricane of obsession
Clothes stripped
sweet embrace
Eyes to eyes
consciousness merged
to a single purpose
fingers fly over flesh
With tenderness
and hesitation
A gap is breached
Flesh upon flesh
motion to motion
a primal dance begins
Loin to loin
leg to leg
This friction of flesh works its way, slowly
To that hidden animal brain we all share
Exploding in starburst rhythm
Tingling tendrils of pleasure
Pulse through nerve and fiber
Fulfilling a programmed mission
In that moment of ultimate fulfillment
One forgets the other
Sucking intellect and judgment
Down a narrow path
From which some never return
A Meditation
Staring into space
into nothingness
Blank visual field
whether white or black
It hardly matters
black bleaches to white
white blinks out to black
Featureless
empty
Into that homogeneous emptiness
Thoughts intrude Where am I?
What time is it?
No answers
Only blankness
continuous
empty
From left to right
Top
To
Bottom
Within that void an anticipation begins
A gradual building of nervous expectation
From once empty space lines
curves
shapes
emerge
only to again
collapse
quickly
back
into
that
void
.
.
A single point, infinitesimally small
representing
nothing
nothing
nothing
But not the absence of everything
Because there remains
nothing
Nothing to see,
but also, nothing to hear
nothing to say
Astral Projection
Preparations laid, bills paid, worries laid to rest
Skeletons and ghosts of the past, forced to vacation
First
posture established
Deep meditation begins
Muscles tense
relax
tense
repeatedly
Concentration
traces of bodily sensation removed
Mind is isolated
moves upward
Imaging
downward
a glowing umbilical
Stretches back to body
poised in posture
motionless except for shallow breath
Mind expands outward
A sensation of breeze
Swaying tree branches
Hollow, echoing squawks of distant birds
A Life's Work
Bloodshot eyes
the reek of stale tobacco smoke
He stares down at his hands
In his calluses sees the life he has wrought
Each long day gnaws away
another segment of this game
Labors to eat, to clothe, to pay
all those perpetually mounting bills
Chained to existence
by compulsive expectations of family and friends
He drinks deeply to drain his displeasure
and sinks into a numbness of nonbeing
Only to again awaken to go to work
The Core
Staring in to that center
behind the eyes
Inside: thoughts, feelings
Outside: action <--> reaction
Inside: chaotic baseline
from which patterns emerge
mirroring the image of
Outside: shapes of pistons pounding in rhythm
Inside: shapes of erotic acts
Process: excitation
intention
motor patterns emerge
machines
moving with increasing tempo
harmonic resonance
instinctual alignment
Inside:
turbulance
clouds obscure reason
mixed images of past loves, past lives
rancid reality intudes as face flushes
worms devour the ego
A distant clanging of Buddhist bells is heard
as a deeper reality coalesces
Empty Life
Empty life, raw reality
No balm of wealthy excesses
Pure, simple earthen chaos
The content of our last moments
Why did we not see this earlier
To guide us away from that
self-delusional mirage of
ego-fulfilled gratification
To understand that we live only once
That the present act passes permanent judgement
on our failures, our misdeeds
Understanding those final moments
of realization before death
Let us live pure truth
love without expectation
Discard money
possessions
lies
jealousy
Let us hold nothing in restraint
and follow our true course to its natural end
Cycle
You give your love freely to all
Compelled by a wilderness of chaos
In naked perfidy, without shame
Driven by programmed instinct
Your primitive ganglia seize control
Drive muscles in coordinated rhythm
To achieve that instant of completion
What follows: raw depression
Realization of ultimate mortality
Death upon death
Generation follows generation
In a never ending cycle
of pleasure and pain
Two Virgins
Two virgins, each waiting for a lover
One expecting marriage
the other, fulfillment
Double date, dinner, dessert
Followed by: music, seduction, orgasm
The marriage-bound weaves a web
of schizophrenic obsession
to pursue an unobtainable
goal of complete possession
The fulfillment-bound, bounds off
to a new love
achieving another
and yet another conquest
Neither understands the futility of
her goal-oriented pursuit
The true path is found within a narrow
range of chaotic interaction
part saint part slut
in equal balance
Villum
Hey Hey Villum
dost mock millum?
Thrillum, chillum, drillum, killum
Fillum with no knock nillum
Knock, knock, who's there?
Care bear, spare snare
Mare scare, hare stare
Fuck a duck, duck a fuck
In suck muck luck stuck
He eats, shits, reeks, speaks
"Get me out of here!"
Morph
The shape, the form of the universe:
A supergiant sphere of roughly distributed,
expanding stardust
Originating from a primary burst,
Ten or twenty billion years ago.
That shape, that form,
within the content of our universe
of over 20 billion galaxies
Is the manifestation of a multidimensional
nonlinear equation
With spatial coordinates very much greater than one
and a negative time value,
All nested within a dimensional
representation of process.
The spatial aspects clearly have
Mandelbrot derivative dynamics,
Within an infinity of coefficient varying
morphoses
There lie those values specific to our space and time.
Suckedry
Over and over again, she sucked him dry
Drained his scrotum of those essential
life-generating fluids
Until he was but a heaving, pulpy shell
Wheezing with every breath through
the large hole in his groin
He asked himself, "Is this love?"
