*NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS*Rate, Comment, PLEASE* http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage WORDS & LINKS HERE. From an original poetic selection in his collected prose and verse entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion recites a poem about love and lust, and his home town, Chicago.
http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage contains words/text for all poems, plus other images and poems. "When a child I played, entertained myself with crystal sets, later I became a ham radio operator. The fact that I now have an audience of several tens of thousands and growing, that this audience has become increasingly world-wide, and that it hears and sees me while I read my lyric and prose is nothing short of astounding. I love my YouTube!" For this POEM ....Original BLOG LISTING March 15, 2009.
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=OH+CHICAGO!+Suite+White+City
OH CHICAGO!
Suite White City
Chicago I see you,
Though to be there I must tap root scenes,
Now, very long ago, what I share
Might be more dream, fiction,
Than actual history event, my life enfolds,
I see it in pictures,
The lake front parking, a make-out spot,
Way down at east end of Foster,
The time me and my sons mother,
A woman who in future time to become my first,
My one, and only wife, today,
Almost thirty years, divorced,
That fellow, from within the bushes,
Came out with a length of metal gaffing hook,
Then with a big overhead swing,
Punctured the hood on my Dads Chevrolet,
Brand-new, 1960, four-door, hard-top, white,
And we survived the attack,
Intact, secure behind the doors and car in reverse,
We were lucky, I guess.
That time in the high rise, near North Side,
Where up on the 18th floor me and my buddy,
We laid that cop,
Oh, Chicago, she was great,
I remember her, only fondest delight!
I liked fact that her 9MM slept with us,
But under the pillow, the uniform,
The belt and boots, both on her, and
When they later scattered and heaped,
Clothing and leather accessories,
They looked good, I recall
They were piled on the rug of the bedroom floor.
Later, in the back seat, police cruiser unit,
I joined the convergence, while she drove
And her partner sat shotgun, chased the culprit,
Down the alleys, fast, 30mph,
Galvanized cans popping, their lids flying like saucers, Garbage was raining all over the concrete.
Riverview Park, my first high school,
Down the block from the Ferris Wheel,
Reader excuse the free thinking,
I leap here to insight and meaning,
Back to the time my great grandfather,
All the way from La Salle, came to see the lights,
The white city, magic, and when he returned, home, Told tales about the city, twenty-years after the Fire.
He ignited my grandmothers lust,
She sold her soul to abandon the narrow,
Womans common lot, early twentieth-century,
Hand laundry, drudgery, the great bore, small town life,
She married to, iterant painter, my grandfather, John.
He went from town to town painting church murals,
Wayward man, by all accounts, if there ever were one,
He promised her life, incandescent, a part of history,
The new town rose up from the old, up from ashes,
And was there not real truth,
Behind the story, the Whites, the miracle,
How they had been rescued at Fort Dearborn?
She sought energy, electric, the moment
She wanted city burning, burning bright, resplendent.
Oh, Chicago, it is from you that I have my life!
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life in a day Keeme part 2 of 4.mp4by Videnstein54 views
Wow, I've never read a poem that captured a city's pulse so well. The sex, the crime, the danger, the insanity of it, and the desire to be there, and the lack of fulfillment, yet somehow it still glows with promise. Like I said before, ....Wow. :)
Nyhee7 2 years ago
I am glad you enjoyed this poem for its rawness, I have subsequently edited it, and presented a second upload, but now I have looked it over again and have a third version up and coming.
Thanks for keeping up with me.
StanleyPacion 2 years ago
Wonderful poem Stanley, gives a good image of chicago, and the world as its turning now, sad whats happening.
udiealot81 3 years ago
Ywes sir, and I have done one rewrite of the poem by now and have a third in the works. The themes in this poem are old family tradition and my own life experience in that great, big city by the Lake, but to say them right is no easy chore. This peom is taken from my journal notes, rewritten, then rewritten, etc.
StanleyPacion 2 years ago