Tuva Street Song to America

3 Comments

  • hippideeth
  • Hey guys! I recently published a poetry chapbook in memory of my mammaw. It's available on amazon.com and createspace e store. It's titled If I Settle Down... by Charles Cross.

Poem Commentary

Tuva is a form of singing in Mongolia. The person relaxes their throat so that it releases more than one note at a time. Hope you enjoy!

Tuva Street Song to America

* First Note

Dear Nancy forward the horses and sing to the hills
   the thick-book beau lives in the sweet estate
   and breeds with red apples on the red carpet

Dark handsome limos, engine knights move between trees
   swinging perfume in the masked breeze
   generating stars from the canyon floors

First note floats the vortex West to East coast
   through Trumph fantasies and tall credit babes
   to the Retail Prophet/ praise to Armani; praise to Hilfiger

Chandeliers and chocolate refineries humm hymms to the horse tracks
   Crowded bachelors bell silver disciples
   between the cracks of their finest suites

Moses is a dancing Fred Astaire from the Mountain
   leading well-fitted young men on
   the Blackberry Highway to private school

Shooting stars are paid and clocked in the studio
   the Bureaucratic posse rest on the shore
   with our wishes materialized on the horizon

Casino gods and oilslick Hollywood producers
   stimulate retirees, young sailors and prostitutes
   beat the blood of this nation for a fat stack of moving cash

Sing to the silver; sing to the gold
   sing to the surgeon who never grows old
   praise the repairs; praise America's youth

* Second Note

Tonsure man in the eye of the press says
   "cooperate or betray your beloved country
   lose your soul and be the Anti-Christ you are."

Christ is owned yonder by the West
   used, commercialized to industrialize
   a spirit of oblique transmission to wireless technology

Oil junctions happily play for the Utopia
   of large scale gambling enterprises
   ancient railroads assemble on Hitler's Heaven
 
America's Mecca is parked on Holy Wall Street
   with the shimmering green ruins of war
   in the pockets of parrots and politicians

Rippling products, packed and processed and sent
   for smokers, drinkers, and church-goers
   chanting and consuming in the small fix of life

Fear Communism! Fear the jury!
   Fear Death
   and the penalty for Standard Living

Minds flee like birds from the Bush Virus,
   a contagious ignu disease
   singing in the old pale parade

Bridges are closing; the pearly gates will extend no time
   "Once more, will you cooperate,
   or burn with The Beatles and The Beach Boys

Melt under the rock with the natives and the Buddhists
   burn forever in the gaping hole of the world
   burn forever in your true alien heart?"

* Third Note

Christmas arrives on the slick plates of orphans
   no Mother Russia; no Farther Christmas
   abandoned babies of the starry land sit and pray

Social threats ambush the immigrant flocks
   airports will peel a man's dignity with paronoia
   and slice him open with Gitmo

Children write poetry in basements with the rats and spiders
   above are full-coarse meals
   parents talk orderly about disorders

Little boys and girls sleep with the sound of dirty laundry
   they sleep under radar
   they sleep alone

Babbling bats hang over the crimson fireplace
   casting shadows on mainstreet
   where the police stand tall

The Pregnant South feeds jolly Cupid
   with Welfare checks and divorce
   a concurrence of love and fallacy marked in the womb

The grey-haired apartheid shouts down
   to the heel and toe
   saying, "Do as your told!"

A hard muscle weakens as the back breaks
   working fields of tobacco
   meant to rape the pockets of all

Meth cooks are never unemployed
   yet draw unemployment
   laughing down the hill through the smokestacks

Dried-up cactus girls flaunt seeking streetcorners
   painters and lawyers stop by
   lifting the head and squinting the eye

Fingertips are rented out by nutritous hope
   they wait in government lines
   they fall somewhere in the middle

Dad dances with the bottle; mom plays in shattered porcelain
   the banks are foreign
   and suicide and starvation smile in the next room

The bottom bodies of the country scream aloud
   We are strong! We are wise!
   And we are dying fast!

* Last But Not Least

Mickey Mouse marks the American Genesis
   Disney's animated pawns
   power Washington still

Mighty Mustangs pound city streets with the
   sound of parallel passivity
   beating in a giant bass

Cigarrette smoke soars from the lusty camel and his lusty bride
   into the lusty movies and magazines
   into the lusty mouthes of cool

Bedrooms flash with reality sitcoms
   travelling over satellite bridges
   springing in curtained apartment walls

Tarzan roars over a Phil Collins song
   You'll be in my TV
   tonight, and my utility bill tomorrow

Skyscrapers plunge from islands where
   squawking radio announcers read
   squawking stories through a cigar voice

The children are humble on the thick carpet
   under the chimney's smog
   under the red, white and blue

in front of television dieties of the land
   street families wake up
   between conspiracy and springtime

Bulls of ecstacy point their horns toward the Morning Song
   who listens to the coming tones
   in this vast human wilderness

 

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Paleidia commented on Tuva Street Song to America

07-01-2009

omg!!!!This is genius! I had to read it twice for it to truly sink in. And WOW! did it sink in!

ginga commented on Tuva Street Song to America

07-01-2009

Hippideeth this is a masterpeice and I wonder was this an ongoing poem over time or did you write it fairly quickly? It needs no editing just your voice to read. Have you ever read this publicly? I would be in that audience if I could. I am amazed and happy that you have pointed out so much that needs uncovering, unraveling, and truly do not know how you do it so eloquently. 10 Ginga

hippideeth

07/01/2009

Thank you so much. This makes me smile :)

hippideeth

07/01/2009

It took a couple of days, and I have never read this publicly. Thanx Ginga.

connsk8 commented on Tuva Street Song to America

06-02-2009

Wow, quite a statement, extremely thought provoking, I can't bring myself to read your other one because of the title if it is anything like this, as this was so graphic, so much awareness, so much opinion, mostly universal I would think, I am amazed..thank you, this is unlike anything I have ever read!!!

If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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