Poem – Sleeping Beauty Rents Snow White’s Crystal Bier (2005)

 Sleeping Beauty Rents

Snow White’s Crystal Bier:

awaiting kiss

 

“This could be an eternity,”

thinks Sleeping beauty, making the rounds

of clubs and bars

“This round of clubs and bars

Will endure an eternity.”

Sleeping Beauty sighs deeply

Into a cel-phone, entering a taxi.

With the amount of Beauty’s drinking

(The rounds of drinks that go

w/ the rounds of bars)    Then there are the Beauty Drugs.

Keeping a large male Beauty asleep these days

is

not the easily pricked.

Finger on a spindle, “Poison apple,

Dearie,” trick that once

Could enthrall a Beauty to sleep. Now, a mass of costly

And possibly illegal analgesics, designer and other pharmaceuticals

Prime the Beauteous Sleeper into:

The Mystical Moment of Surrender:

The Life not Life – the waking that is Sleeping – Beauty is asleep,

i.e. a life asleep is capable of Beauty. A Beautiful life cannot be

A Waking life.   Sleep, my Love, The Beauty Sleep of your life.

Why waken–sordid, soiled,

Catastrophic, in a Life that is

“Empty,” you said?

Empty of What:

The Kiss is the final Drug; let us call it

“DETOX” – As seen on T.V.!!!

It wakes you, no?

So, this Fairy Tale is good for a spin.

If we write out the Prince, and living happily ever after

In Snow White’s rented Glass Sepulchre.

 

Rene Ricard

April 26, 2005

Poem – Cecil (10/4/2003)

Cecil

 

Just a kid in a disco

With an east-side garçonnière

And a tidy phalanx of body guards

*

It was a fun night and a

great story: a crown-prince

Then on the cover of ‘Time’

“Forty-third reincarnation of the god

Vishnu”

*

The feathers of the years fly from

their pillow.

An occasional mention in the press:

Plays saxophone

Likes to snap shots

 

*

 

But an intriguing wife with

Dynastic designs, a recalcitrant

Son with a personal armory, and

A family dinner with an Elizabethan

dénouement:

*

A Shakespearean meal

Where a king and a prince meet

And every thing ends in mincemeat

*

Some say a good king

Some say not

From reforming youth devolves

A frustrated middle age

*

And Maoist rebels; what

do I know?

He was a kid in the discotheque

‘Ondine’

*

Sometimes the Hero

Becomes the Dragon

And the staff sweeps the bones

from the mouth

of the

Cave

 

Rene Ricard

October 4, 2003

N.Y.C.

Poem – All Day (10/25/78)

All Day

So this is reality too, come in

and now you’re here, all swept

up for you the floor shiny

and our wonderful pal, the

antelope clatters its little hooves

on the floor to eat from your

hand, all the pictures

you love on the walls and

your favorite books read

themselves aloud, and you

can leave if you want to, just

turn the page or have the kids

come over for cake, little Louie

from downstairs, he likes you

so much he brings his friends

too, the twelve year old girl,

She loves it here we give her

shiny hair and crackling

petticoats. It’s always

just after school and

just before supper. The

flower in the flowerpot smiles

all day in the sunshine

and waves its little

leaves when you come home. Such

a bright yellow floor and

such a big cozy bed

It says Hey Get Up or

You’ve got a temperature or

Stay here with me

let’s watch TV all day.

Sometimes there’s a moon

when we’re alone but

like always the grinning

kind that hangs from a

thin wire. Oh yeah, the

stars have five neat points

The coffee pot giggles and

the dishes wash themselves with

their little rubber gloves

squeaking and laughing.

You have that effect on things

and even the bathroom,

so often left out of things,

is happy, when you’re

home.

 

Oct 25

1978 RR