The ritual slaying of the attraction

Is not easy to explain

Like the spirit of the Earth

In the most ample sense of the word

The intuitive part of consciousness

Jumps to a religious enthusiasm

Assuming, maybe too cavalierly

To understand the poetic magic

But the final ephemeral flicker

Blazed and burnt out

Like a brilliant comet

In his assassination

They are all dead

I have examined the bodies

They never heard the shot

That drained the vials and stood in silence

2011 By David Jacobi

Take home your heroes

That weep in triumph

At this lost battle in the wild wind

We’ll never know the quick rain

The hardship of being human

And tree-sap

On is all, on both sides

Nothing to be despised

Kill the monument

But don’t be fooled

About where these monsters come from

The forecast is an unquiet future

So there is false speculation

Beyond reckoning

To those enslaved and renounced

Laugh!! You humans, false inhabitors

There is a ledge of fine marble that

God carves great images into

Of war and plague and horror and beauty

The signature of His will

2011 By David Jacobi

Your eroticism is expressed

In a heavy agitated style

Demanded by previous generations

With resolve and determination

As I read the lengthy records

Of your spiritual experiences

Like a ship on the sea in full sail

How beautiful they might have been

I gave expression to my appreciation

If only aware of starving dogs

Give nature time and make lewd jokes

And when you go down make a good sunset

Like snakes of rain coiling on a windshield

Slicing the throat of the bully of mediocrity

You might get by in that bracket

Or become part of the ghostly hunt

During the celebration of contemporary decadence

I envision a nostalgic cult of lost innocence

Overwhelmed by an annihilating boredom

Cultivating a vigorous inability to feel

Life proceeds in particles

2011 By David Jacobi

Ethereal waves and flickerings of magic light

Blew over

What dead and dying remnants lingered

Showing to all, the bleached bones of potential

Or is it the beached bones of potential

Everyone can see, anyway

The magic fading away

No matter if bleached or beached

All seems lost, almost

Until the laughter rises floating

And bones click and clatter

Reminding us of the potential

2011 By David Jacobi

descending to the street

fandangos and improbabilities

turn their backs to silence

Synethesia

Ineffable and intuitively

they break the veil of mystery

giving complete references

for a tragic blunder, a vision of art disembodied

a child, left unadressed

Offers striking illustrations

Of unexpected synergy

Seven voices

Speak

2011 By David Jacobi

This is the first of several upcoming “collage poems” I have written and assembled. Noticing different sentence structures and word rhythms in various books I was reading I simply began writing down what I liked and put together what seemed to me to match and flow. These became my free verse collage poems, with some of my own lines scattered about usually acting as connectors or buffers. With a traditional poem I always begin with a subject in mind while with a collage poem I never do, letting the words gather and arrange to tell their own stories.