{"id":42,"date":"1996-10-14T00:43:21","date_gmt":"1996-10-14T04:43:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.greasymonkey.net\/MonkeyBLOG\/?p=42"},"modified":"2008-07-05T00:43:37","modified_gmt":"2008-07-05T04:43:37","slug":"foster-johnson-early-times","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fosterjohnson.com\/POETRY\/?p=42","title":{"rendered":"Foster Johnson – Early Times"},"content":{"rendered":"

Dig! says the Monkey…<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

San Francisco Hand<\/strong>
\nSpiders walk, cross legged natural
\ndarkness creeps across a once
\nbrazen horizon
\nSan Francisco will not sleep yet
\nSan Francisco only draws a breath<\/p>\n

The City by the Bay
\nThey all say…<\/p>\n

An entertaining place to waste
\nyour time in free movements across
\na desert of cultural vicissitudes.
\nWe drive we ride we climb
\nand hike the tall hills hiding
\nsmall valleys of small guilt
\na despair that permeates both stone and air.
\nThere is an evil here
\nthat seems to call back to hardier days.
\nThe History is good but the present
\nreeks of death.<\/p>\n

It is unspoken<\/p>\n

It is desolate, it is pain, It underlies
\nthe marina to the hills around the stick.
\nSomewhere, forever is
\na clutching hand that will cradle,
\nhold cajole you
\nbut will seek to keep you
\nforever in its grasp
\nForever is never so long except in casual death
\nExcept in carefree San Francisco Nights
\nbe careful my children
\nor the guilt might get you too.<\/p>\n

Wait<\/strong>
\nDream awaits somewhere far off
\nmy fair haired one
\nlong legged
\nwith passions still unknown
\nI dream as I smoke and
\nsee you curl about my head
\nas you would cradle me within
\nyour real arms flesh and blood
\nHot and comforting.
\nFor to be smothered by you
\nis a pleasure not
\ndiscomfort
\nTo wander alone these streets
\nthat seem grayer than even the
\ndarkest sky at night
\nTo wander alone without you
\nis not a well planned
\npleasant pastime,
\ninstead it is a lonely pace
\ntrudge-like through heavy
\nspace, a task to walk alone
\na task to move through air
\nof dreams of you without you really there.<\/p>\n

Daydream Lover<\/strong>
\nfriend of mine
\nwe shared so many times
\ndaydream lover
\ngood in kind<\/p>\n

I couldn’t walk away
\neven if I could<\/p>\n

I hear the blues without you
\nI dance alone<\/p>\n

I can’t hit a memory
\nwithout the wind blowing
\naway all our thoughts
\nand linotone dreams
\nday dream lover one or two
\ncome with me and do
\nall the things
\nwe’re meant to do.<\/p>\n

Rock N Roll<\/strong>
\nBilly Holiday brings tears
\nto my eyes.
\nNot from the passion
\nshe bores me to it.<\/p>\n

Blues channels its bull
\nBlues, BLUES, BLUES.
\nSay it with some gravel in your
\nvoice
\nSan Francisco owns the blues
\nForty-year old white men with salt and pepper beards
\nslightly growing, ownin’ the blues.<\/p>\n

Whisper Jazz, say it with a
\nwhisper — Jazz eclipsed
\nwhen Davis died or twenty
\nyears before… was dead before
\nit was born but was good that way.<\/p>\n

Rock N Roll has rolled too,
\nlike the railroads, railroads, rail roads
\nrotting frail and dangerous — somewhere
\na new song awaits
\nAt some time our stagnant regurge will end – U.S.A. we are not
\nfresh today.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Dig! says the Monkey… San Francisco Hand Spiders walk, cross legged natural darkness creeps across a once brazen horizon San Francisco will not sleep yet San Francisco only draws a breath The City by the Bay They all say… An entertaining place to waste your time in free movements across a desert of cultural vicissitudes. … <\/p>\n

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