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Barry Lebost's Poetry
Barry Lebost's poetry has evolved over the years but his earlier work remains interesting.
The Past is Always Here Copyright 2001
Diggey Degger’s Dike
1972 Jazz Poetry by Barry Lebost
(A witching spell, shhhh! Must read with drama and passion)
Eating brooms by the stoom
Martled by tee early tomb.
Fragged, freathered, frothed thru soon
As I slig a slaggy sledger
I slipped it off a slash too soon
An saw my Diggy dag a degger
Bigged it off by “Oh My Moon”
How did Sordid ever clever,
Frantic Forrel’s forest foons?
Aye saw May flourish flawny flowers,
Filtering fromage, fraggering fright,
Frawly showers, cinnamon cowlers,
Racing prowlers and floomering trite.
Abe bragged his brimming breaches
Brawning brail his bowling bowers
Bicked it’s gun from Browler’s bright
Sent it flawnding
"Dawn Diggey Degger’s Dike"
I Was There
by Barry Lebost 2015
"I Was There"
What do these words actually mean?
We would like to think that this statement has concrete unquestioning truth behind it.
But the truth may be very far from this.
Who is "I"?
What was "I" at the time
"I" was there?
Was I conscious?
Was the body of "I" present but the mind somewhere else?
What was gained by the experience of being there?
Have...Has "I" remembered all the sensations of being there?
Suppose "I" cannot remember very much. Was I still actually there? Can I count that as being there?
Suppose my friend over here to the right of me was also there. Suppose this friend remembers a thousand fold of what "I" remember- but suppose my friend only remembers a particular narrow subject about what it was like to be there...
Maybe I had a bit too much to drink that day? No- I think I may have had a cold with my head stuffed and my eyes tearing.
Just suppose that my brain works differently than my friend's brain. Suppose he saw a thousand fold of what I saw and remembered a thousand fold of what "I" remembered- but suppose I only saw one thing that day and it turned out that that one thing was infinitely more important than anything my friend had seen or remembered...Was I there more than my friend?
by Barry Lebost 2015
When the Narrator finally spoke he said:
"You missed what was actually said because you were busy listening to the noise in your head..."
"You said that you discount what this person says because this person is a nobody."
"How will you learn if you already have all the answers?"
"How can you learn if you don't care to listen?"
"What if this nobody has thought for many years about this subject and her thinking could change the world for the better?"
"But it requires that people listen."
"It was not you..."
Sadly, it was not me.
The Bamboo Bouquet Outside
by Barry Lebost Costa Rica 2015
Dancing with the prevailing winds...
Yellow green poles maybe a hundred or more...
Reaching up toward fifty feet...
They sway to and fro but not in unison...
Choosing to bow in their own direction.
Clashing clacking cataclysmically...
Sounds beyond human comprehension...
Responding to the gusting breezes...
Like French horns out of tune...No
Like a creeking ghost ship drifting through the night...Lost upon the open sea...
Or perhaps more like surfboards lined up upon an ocean wall suddenly scattered by a giant wave...
The winds pick up and a wooden freight train thunders square wheeled down a wooden track through my studio resting place...
A light breeze comes and an alien mother coos to her infant child...
Click clack stretch strain scraping and caressing gently..
Carving deep into my brain forever the sounds of a bamboo bouquet in the warm prevailing winds.
The Lesson of the Fossil
by Barry Lebost
Graphics by Paxdora
TO MAKE THE COLOR GREEN
The sun shines brilliant yellow
When it meets the bright blue sky.
Just add clear water
by Barry Lebost 2012
Here’s to the brave heroes never to get credit
Who, like squirrels that hide their acorns in autumn
Check their plows and split their wood With visions of howling wind and snows relentless fall
Not from fear of nature’s might
But rather from an inner sight
That whispers one with the universe
Brute cold gray days to come
Entering the dark tunnel
That turns clocks backwards
That makes skies blacker
Quiet but for wind chimes
Fireplace safe and warm inside
Partners share and bond together Chanting to the candle light
Time seems forever still
Until the melting snow
The sun's returning glow
Brings warmth upon the cheeks
Water filling streams and creeks
And then one day thought
Never to arrive
A robin sings to say goodbye…to winter
The Bodhisattva Strives For…
(By me) 1/30/13
Being grateful for gratitude
Living gratitude and reverence for my life
To all and everyone and everything that
made and makes it so
Pure unadulterated appreciation
Understanding the odds to be here now
Assuming the burden of all historical truth
Assuming responsibility for universal
Creating value now
Crying for all the pain of the living
Crying for all who have died
Rejoicing for all happiness
Loving all- including hatred
Seeing yourself in all that is outside self
Seeing all of outside within yourself
Seeing a connection to all of life
Past, present and future
Seeing life’s connection to everything un-living
Contemplating all, listening to all, speaking to all
Being one with the universe
Doing all of the above- All in one moment of time.