The Great Turn: A Cycle of Poetry

The first traces go unnoticed. Due in no part to any personal blindness or failure, but that this is only the beginning and there is not yet evidence of experience. There remains still: great accumulation and loss, inevitable growth and deterioration in the unfolding journey to come.

At the beginning, looking forward the path, a maze of infinite options, meanders crisscrossing and rolling back on itself, dropping to fathomless depths and rising to precipitous heights. Looking forward it’s all a mystery, a vast sea of life, murky and deep.

At the end, looking back, the fog of possibilities gives way to the crisp, clear vista of completed choice. Looking back things make sense. Connections appear showing all along one thing after another made possible the next, a series of logical extensions.

Though life physically moves as a 100 mile long snake in odd arches, curves, and lines all over space and time, a discriminating eye will always find circles in the grand patterns of thought, choice, and action. This cycle of poetry examines these patterns in the life of one person, one representative of the many, searching out the small everyday circles and the singular overarching circle of life that we all begin and must always end.

The cycle opens with an introduction to the circle and moves into childhood, community, and first love in the second and third poems. The forth movement absolutely revels in ecstasy, bliss, sex, and confident invulnerability. This continues in the fifth poem with a growing change towards an utter enjoyment of pride and recklessness and transitions to an inevitable fall in the sixth installment with all of its fear, wallow, pain, and loathing. Poem seven witnesses a return to the light and makes possible the questioning of one’s self in the eighth poem as to the state of the world and making a lasting difference by leaving the world a better place than it was found. The ninth poem is the actual act and action to the previous questions raised on making a difference and poem ten returns to the circle having come full circle.

The Great Turn: A Cycle of Poetry
By Christopher Michael Curtis

The Circle

You are most Dear,
On and on and on Again

A circle full and well rounded
The most beautiful experience
A completion of mystery
A great trek to the source of all true art

I've a mind
and me a journal
a gypsy almanac
collecting
the events and times
of our adopted home
Here the chilling and miraculous breed

Delight to endure
through the mundane and uncanny
Balance mind and body
Roam the world
past imagination and unknown to science
Conspire with life
to create bizarre meaningful patterns

Hands full
Soul wide

Bordered by the morning
on the way through the dark
sing your songs
to make day of night

My Dear Original,
Rise like birth from oceans
Shuffle with hardy thoughts
darling decency
and a robust appetite
Swoon and to song come

Breathe deep the whole thing
Absolutely Fucking Satisfied
Finish we Begin

Sweet Tooth Youth

Run for your daydreams, Boy
Nights feeling to sweep you away
Latchkey kids hold steady
Providence awaits with open gates

Appalachian runoff
Freight train free wheelin' mind
In the know of the spell that abounds:
Take we time for ourself
To run and play and begin to know it all

Built right and strong this time around
A true start
By the body
For the mind
Push into the blinding light of the mid-day sun
Run for the brilliance of life to come

Free Oh Free
What should We?

Fancy were all animals in here
Elephants with skin so thick
Speckled leopards that run like the wind
Terrapins never far from home
A playful imaginary collection of fantastic unknowns

Shake it loose my dear
Let it all rain down
It’s all smiles in my eyes
Summer’s Sunday’s undisclosed pool
My future queen rests easy
Within the sun king’s life-long sweet tooth rule

Witness a Beauty

Listen to the sounds of the wind through trees.
Stand in silence as the wind rustles the leaves
As birds circle and questions stretch out.

Soft in slight rays
like a whisper at dawn
when the air and day are possible
and people lend themselves
and she speaks in this manner
of all that is absolute beautiful and wondrous.
Risk too, gently massaging an endless struggle with uncertain randomness.

As subtle as midnight lends itself to the morning in a languid celestial dance,
she presents herself.
Vacantly still - both of us - froze in a divide between dream and fever.

A harvest to greet,
This is my home please come in,
her invitation radiates from a deafening silence.
I accept barely able to force the word 'home' from my lips.
'Home' stumbles and bumps ruff and scratches hard for air and vanishes.
She accepts my humble attempt at speech
and everything drifts away
Suddenly my thoughts and words are as water on a steep hill.

Enter,
Step,
Threshold,
Step,
Home,
Step,
Unto a new community
A new world beyond the walls of my childhood home

Go in for it all, bet more than you hold the circle is played so.
Wash in my basin,
there waters run deep.
All and everything lives burns dies and crumbles, she whispers, “soak thy skin.”
I slowly trace her face with my finger,
“You will be welcome to find your way in,” She smiles.

Witness a beauty
Watch her shine
Come to see what you can't yet explain

Let go
Feelin’ Fallin’
Nothing comes of moments passed by

Dance on imagination
For our season
Affecting a sea of change

Out there she bellows all hope and worry
Out there she beckons uncertain escape
Hers is the world’s oldest enterprise: Fresh Creation
Calling for all time

Witness a beauty bathing in a lilly-cup
Softly unspoken hymns
Mischievous and playful
From a pixie sprung
Cascade and fall a lush landscape
Fraught with mesmerizing beauty

Dixie-cup angels
Tip toe toward divine thoughts
and gently cup with naked hands
Our most noble ambitions
and shed light on what we make of our land life and times

Lullaby

Baby ballerina
Lovely lollipop savant
Dust the twilight
Float lullaby thoughts

Run deep and slow
Ride the sea floor
Slowly build and come up swift
to break at the gates
of a pulsing, rising dawn

Ride scream and run high
Roll pull run and build
To a tidal wave high
One after the next
To a million waves within
Running washing and rolling all over themselves

Baby ballerina
Lovely lollipop savant
Dust the twilight
Float lullaby thoughts

Dreams
Subtle morphine dreams
Suckle sweet fruit
Brilliant red apples
Honeydew Phantom
Take a bite and
Lick the light of heaven’s speckled moon

I’d follow you
Or lead the way
It’s not a sin to eat
It’s not a sin to embrace
What nourishes

Dreams
Subtle morphine dreams
Dreams of faith
and flights of fancy
Passionate upbringings
Unquestioned and ingrained
Until time’s good turn shakes it all loose
Shakes it all up
all things mandate and instruction
everything pushed as unquestionable truth

Just because they believed it,
and a billion before,
Don’t make it true,
Just an appealing idea,
An the worlds always been full of appealing ideas
All different fits and views to work
individually and of a group
many with long shadows
long past two an a thousand years old

An idea as a sculptor of man
from a dream came
and I saw to it
to craft something new
peculiar to me
A working hypothesis
of the ways to see this world
Shapes made from and for my perspectives
without regard to prior molds

Baby ballerina
Lovely lollipop savant
Dust the twilight
Float lullaby thoughts

Out stretch a hand, from the
Deep plush coat cloaks
Holds secrets away
Private words
Whispered willow words
Tree wisdom learned
Hidden encounters and
Agendas born

Neath' the canopy...

I learned of a jewel spirited away
and an ancient land
A crest not fallen, but flagged
Emblazoned and unfurled
A black eagle waved…,
“and to each his own,” she said
telling of a moment spread
till the last fleck of a brilliant orange sun
fallen’ unto the deep majesty
of the other side of the world

Baby ballerina
Lovely lollipop savant
Dust the twilight
Float lullaby thoughts

Toil in Earth
or, Mingle over sea and sky
Till an utter end
of passing possession takes all meaning and want away

Can’t remake the wheel, an
I don’t believe in a market of past as present, we’re
Arbitrary, but not capricious stepping forth to
Lead the parade
We make necessary adjustments
outside the territory of right and wrong.

In the parade to watch the pull and tide
So I take the pull, and even if…
I do.

What a collection we are
Bitter and sweet
Known to trump and trade on answers
Toward a center slowly opened

Swing light and lie and then again
Swing swift and constant
and it’ll all come around again
Easy, ride it easy and come again
Home reflects
A comfort beatin’ exotic for certain returns

I would never give my love to no one, to nothing but you

Robert Johnson, Faust, & Me

Bordered by tha mornin
On the way through the dark
Gettin outa bed
Risin with a song in my head
Make that early night shine again

Wake before the sun rises
jus to beat that damn ol’ devil out of bed
I got my ways to get over
An he sho got his to get around
In the end, might even catch up with me
but today ain’t that day
Cause I got an early start in my sinnin’ and wicked ways.

One foot following the other
Migglin over tracked earth
Jus tha same as yesterday
One foot on land
An one foot in the grave
Going on and on and on
An this circles got me down
Trying ta create something new for y’all
for’ ya kick me out a town.

Bordered by the morning
and all up inta the night
It’s beating on me all the way
With no end in sight
but thas all right
cause I jus keep on singin my songs
to make day of that damn old night

Sing em’ true
Sing em’ loud
Sing em’ long
Long an late into the night
On an on an on
all day long

Risin' from a troubled sea of emotions
Rise with the sun to cut an own the light
Rise up from nothing
from less than meager homespun dirt

Rise up an away from
this poverty of life

Bordered by the morning
An bordered by the night
Delight to endure,
Delight to make day of night

At least I know what an who I am
At least I’m ain’t no blind man
I’ll never trade up domestic
Turning bankrupt strip mall, Wal-Mart tricks
At least I know I’ll never be or live meager

I know what an who I am
If only in terms of what I ain’t
An I am a sinner
But well, sinners breathe oxygen and began as children too,

An so sinners keep your ways
An keep makin’ our songs
Cause the devil likes the credit,
for the music
that keeps the whole world movin’ on

4 AM on the Street

Pure, or is it poor, creature
run down
sold in the night

Beauty washed out,
sweet grace beads up
drips from the brow
marred and mired in doubt

All goodness, felt
has left his heart
tears fall into abject darkness
and land's lifeline lost in the night

The street, darkly possessed
The street, wide open
but trapping and closed
The street, a vacuum
not unlike outer space
a cold and strangling
extinguisher of life
The street, with its dark alleys and dead ends
The streets have and hold so many
such a wide variety of ways in and down and out

The street, always if you look just right
always a possibility
if you can look search and find the right light
A street just below your feet
might lead you somewhere else

The street, is no magnet straight jacket
it provides access to anywhere
else you’d dreamt to find yourself.

Recognition

To the benefit of something…
For all the breaths taken in and expelled
for what is it worth…

The beauty of life is happiness

And how it is beautiful and tragic
when the weight pulls on you so
and I watch it happen,

Great things happen
and I’m ashamed of myself
Because I’ve no respect for the only true love that makes an effort to understand

Judges and spectators,
and classic marketing bait and reels,
Betting heavy on the marked winner
but don’t count yourself out just yet.

In the spent breath,
hot and heavy,
Pushed and pulled out of fragile lungs
pushed and pulled out of eyes that have seen and know better
pushed and pulled out of all my mistakes,
too many to count.

How do you measure what is important
It is impossible to take measure of anything outside
Till a full account is made of everything within the warm circle of comfort
That accepts you without explanation.

Whispers on the Wind

And now,
we've done savage damage
to this new century

Urgency for,
alternative to war
seems human existence
conflict can't escape

If you,
want to come to god
celebrate truth
and integrity of faith in what you believe
structure and religion
are irrelevant
as the whole point is:
Never lie to yourself
and personally make ways
to make the world a half a fraction better
than it was when your
birthcry pierced the wind

Eyes,
of the world
and what’s around
more still
through the nights
how the tides turn

And what,
scarcely lies below us all
gently calls,
but will beg and scream
if necessary
the name to you your parents gave.

Cured of Illusions

Strange days are coming on
Suns setting at noon
Forgotten blue skies
Waters spoiled too....

Were told, “The days laid out on triumphant soft beds,”
But I think the days been laid waste
under afterthoughts and powerful boy-men
Who never figured out within the whole wide world
with all of its natural parts
how to fit in and make it better, just a bit better,
They who never discovered their true worth

They sleep on through with blind cover,
“Just a few more minutes mom,” they say
Mom passively states the obvious
“Just a few more minutes, the days almost gone,
get up and open you eyes before you sleep it all away”

I will not be a boy-man
I will not live in afterthought
I am an Insurgent
I am the rebellion rising with wide-spread support.

Those sleepers,
Those blinders,
The worst of the worst kind
An inner circle divorced from reality and nature

It is to us,
Me and you
Cured of illusions
To shake the fuckin' learn-nothin’s

It is to us,
To find a means
So they come to an understanding on their own
So they
See suspicions fuel distrust,
See influence,
See kickbacks,
See that we all, us and them
Bear a striking resemblance to each other
That the divide is not that great

There is an obvious risk involved.
Should we devolve to the level
of dumb beast
and mirror their actions
to prevent their actions
Opt to react violently to achieve our goals
and further dwindle our human credibility
Till we too have buried our souls

No, comes the answer,
swift and quick
No,
There are other ways
No longer mano a mano
No longer addicted to tough talk
No longer personalize everything
No longer resent
No longer exploited by the soup du jour
Small things that should remain trivial
Like the dirt, grass, or sand below our feet
Small things will not cloud vision
Small things exacerbated by posturing and malice
Murder and mutilation
It always comes to the same consequence

We enter a hostile brave new world,
One giant densely populated urban area
There are no new villains
We've turned the corner
Does anyone believe in another way ?

It is to us cured of illusions
To make a better way
Forever tomorrows always a day away
Today’s our day
We don't have to make the circle
To know the escape
We must finish what we begin

Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride
has caught fire
spun from its girders
and still no one pukes

This is some collective skin
wearin’ in and worn thin
This is some kind of land
Wearin’ thin were livin in’

Of all the landscapes we tread
What have we sown
This is what we have to show for our efforts so far:
A little piece to call our own
Fragments in our head
The bullets still with us today
I know the dead but I don't remember them as evil
Only dead
Dead with bullets
Bullets In the head.
There is a better way than this to live
There is a better way than this to travel to our ends
There is a better way to go
I’m going that way
I hope you’ll come along.

Where I’m From (Return to the Circle)

I am from the ether
From the ether moving round the sun
I am from the circle
The circle of life
The circle gets bigger as time goes on

I am from compassion,
From their embrace
Just a creature in the whole of nature
I am from an exquisite sensitivity to a living universe.

There are no gates where I am from
I come here to gather of my own free will
The Sun comes up everyday where I’m from
Everyday is new

I am from Circles, Cycles
I am from Suns and Lifegivers
I am from grace and diplomacy
I carry the weight from where I’m from
I am from life’s mystery, Vast and Deep
I have come from and to the world’s great hunger

Where I’m from the shepherd and the wolf dance
Cause where I’m from songs always play
Where I’m from souls don’t seep from shallow wounds
Where I’m from there is virtue in violet and deep crimson red
And there is motion and there is passive
Where I’m from don’t waste to worry time
Where I’m from eyes are to look on the whole of the world
and outside is the view from within

Where I’m from the only One who counts
Hears no just complaints
Where I’m from
We believe and still grow and trust in this graceful human mess

Have you heard?
You can never go home again
But you can go back and forth
and twice again
Volleys in the dark
Midnight education on abject light
Even still, where I’m from we don’t throw away our choices
Where I’m from steal your will for the winds
No more lost than where I began

I Believe anyone can above the odds rise
History burns with what before us lies

If you are lost now
You are not a stranger
Many before you now know a way
And will greet you at the end
I know because
where I’m from
I learned always,...there’s always another way.

Supplemental Background 

A further, deeper introduction to this collection of poems.  A bit of brain and thought that went into the writing.

The first introduction as it stands, performs the task intend: a poetic introduction to the overall piece. A quick take on each individual poem. A playful taste of the total meal, concise and complete. 
There is a reason why people that sell food hand out little itty-bitty bites of what they are selling as potential customers walk by. They are trying to induce salivating. They are trying to hook you and reel you in. After all, a small bite of anything hot and fresh is always delicious. My aim is no different. So other than a few minor tweaks the introduction will remain as it now stands. This is how I would want it to be published.

Weird poems that are intensely personal. 

Let us go further down the rabbit hole or rather the snake hole. This whole thing began early in the semester with the idea of circles, specifically from an image I saw on television of a snake eating its own tail. I think it was an X-files spinoff. This was an image to start writing a poem, I thought. A little research later, I found that the image was an ancient symbol represented in numerous cultures going all the way back to the ancient Egyptians. The name of the symbol is the Ouroboros or Uroborus and it typically represents the unending cyclical nature of life. That life is eternal and continuously re-creates itself. It also is a symbol representing human self-reflection. The funny thing is that when I first saw the snaketailsnake image I immediately thought of every one of these ideas, however I assumed that the symbol had strictly negative connotations. After researching the symbol, I decided to do a series of poems revolving around the circles and cycles theme that the symbol actually represents and to include some of the negative aspects that I had originally inferred somewhere in the middle and then have it come back on itself to satisfaction and positive understanding.

Other than that jumping off point, the poems are all extremely autobiographical. I mined my life for the blood, bone, and marrow of these poems. I started with a concept outline in chronological order of my life and filled it in with ideas, sentences, and paragraphs. From there it just ballooned out to where it stands today. These poems are full of my experiences, my humor, and my playful, fun nature. Obviously, there is sadness in there too. The flipside of any one willing to open up to so many new experiences, to new loves, is obviously that you open yourself to new pain, eventual loss, and the pain that comes with loss. It is the sensitive underbelly that must go through and necessarily change and age in the fire.

Clearly, too there is a great deal of my feelings and rejection of Catholicism. A religion that I experienced in every facet of my life from home to school, and that I now view as an infinity cult based on ingraining fear and guilt on its subjects at a young age. What a bitch it is to shake off all the Catholic bull shit. Actually it’s impossible to completely shake it all off. Don’t get me wrong there are plenty of beautiful ideas on how to live one’s life and how to treat others in the bible and the best and most timeless have their place in these poems.

There is plainly available in these pages that show intense reverence for spirituality and a belief in the basic tenets of all the major religions on how people should respect and treat each other. There is also quite a bit of Buddhist concepts in these poems. I find and understand the Buddhist religion with its lack of a single overlord god, its focus on people, and its acceptance and contentment in the face of loss infinitely rewarding. Beyond that there is my understanding that there is a spark of the divine in all of us, and that we have to strive to bring out and care for that spark throughout our lives. What else is going on here? In writing these poems there is the clear appearance of many of my environmental beliefs on leaving the world better than we found it. The rest is just for me. Readers can make or take whatever they want from the rest.

So to paraphrase Marlow from Heart of Darkness, that’s what is both within and around this nut, this kernel of poetry, complete with all its contradictory and unifying beauty.