homage to Samuel Beckett

oh les beaux jours
driploof that I have become
pacificating nocturnal troubles
evoked by slippery flancloneters
in a post diatronic world
where swink pank sugaries
are only imagined, revisited and ameliorated
by drug pinned and shut minds
fading quickly like geometric apparitions
after luke-warm vodka tainted
by Dead Sea salt remnants
and blue-ringed Jupiterian moons
amid triple sec Io suns
spinning otherworldly
out of insanity's preposterous control

the simpletonic days are too long
time has been sofficialized
the tick-tocks have been rescripted by pi
and sunset and sunrise follow
like estrageable lovers chasing rainbows
where not enough doveyness
was daftly gobbled by the impending night —

these marish teacup stains from my youth
overflowed with the stimulating samplations
my soul needed to spew forth in artificial colors
my blind heart fumbling for suave alien textures
and this afterworld-like hum-drummery
flew high with resuscitated pterodactyls
swooshing on synthetic hummingbirds
lost in what they now call futuristic existence

so much zeal was too absurdly poetic then
and loofing drips were infrequent
quand les jours étaient beaux



homage to Samuel Beckett
[2007.22.3…a]


Author's Note:
One of Beckett’s plays entitled “Oh, les beaux jours” and is usually translated “Happy Days.” My last line, “quand les jours étaient beaux”, translates, “when the days were carefree”. Beaux is the plural of beau, which usually means handsome, pretty, the masculine form of belle.