Serena
Beyond the Elysian Fields,
Beyond the harlequin dolls lusted after by societal ignoramuses,
Beyond the quasi-religious dolts who fervently play their divine Creator in charlatan dwellings,
Beyond the glint of light beaming on the gin, the booze and the boozers, begging the barkeeper for one more Martian, one more Cosmopolitan, at least one bloody Unabomber, for God’s sake,
Beyond the juxtapositions of glory by hazy, stoned-out-your-ass dragon-chasers who, with fumbling fingers, paid out a day’s worth of begging for Almighty Dollars so they may obtain their filthy fixes,
Beyond Death Trail, which leads from Sin City to Down Under to the heroin cartels of Mexico to the opium utopias of Asia,
Beyond Redneck Jesus, whose beer belly is shrouded by a wife-beater and whose hands grip two Coors,
Beyond wise Solomon’s palace and his five hundred concubines,
Beyond Ginsburg, Poe, King, and Underwood typewriters,
Beyond the pathetic poverty-stricken poets who jot down stanzas on a fast food napkin to vent out diatribes against the insatiable Society they are regrettably of,
Beyond saintly celebrities laying with each other film after film after bloody film so the tabloids can have juicy tales to write up in next month’s sordid edition,
Beyond spectacled lads desperate for a woman different than all the others, only to realize she is just as much of angels fallen from grace as the rest of us are,
Beyond the reach of Fashion and Moloch and Science,
Beyond the crooning and spewing of punk rockers begging to be sedated, insisting they don’t give a damn about their reputation, inciting riots, and averring that their name is Psycho,
Beyond the burly warriors of the millennia testing each other’s mettle, each evolutionary epoch of war begetting men and young striplings ankle-deep in blood and sinewy muscles and piss and shit and earthbound Death as the Seraphim De Muerte welcomes them with shadowy arms and gnarled fingers that beckon in the dimly lit tunnel to the River,
Beyond the world beyond the lonely beyond the stoned beyond the scared beyond you beyond me beyond harbors beyond Denver beyond Eternity’s steps crossed by seldom few feet,
Beyond allthatandthisagain,ohwhywon’tthemanshutupshutupshutup,thebrainstewjustain’tquittin’,ohtheband’splayin’,thepeoplearedancing,butdamn,thisheadacheisconstantandoh,ithurts,pleasemakeitstopbaby,babyplease,ican’tlastwithoutyou,you,you,
Beyond writers and poets sitting at cafes, sipping bitter coffee and listening to mind-bending and ethereal songs and wishing they weren’t there ‘cause they gotta work, gotta write, gotta jazz, and Mr. Muse ain’t talking,
Beyond
Beyond me, surely,
Beyond sits a woman of Light and Fire and Bravado and sweets and sweet tooth and visions of euphoric waves crashing violently on the shore of Peace, where Paradise firmly lies,
Beyond is Serena, and Pulchritudes et Spirites, if my tongue is permitted to wag,
Beyond is Serena, and her rubescent cheeks and rubescent lips are undeniable and somehow inaccessible, as if Beauty were the window to her unfettered soul,
Beyond is Serena, and she is wondrous in her flaws and imperfections, for ah, that is what makes the party have flow, smooth linear lines and smiles and inward whispers of Oh, it’s her, surely!,
Beyond is Serena, and there are many copycats, whose tongues are silver and eyes are gold, but that gold’s only .1%, a flicker of glint, and their hearts are venom, and they break our hearts to leave for the bad boys to drink and make-out and thin gin and regret,
Beyond is Serena, and now my heart is set to tatters from its weary yet furious beat of Love and apprehension and wonder,
Beyond is Serena, and I know not who it is, but God Willing, I only may know on the day of my life when Silver Bells chime out and for miles, we can hear the tollingandthetollingandthemoaningandthegroaningandthetintinabulation of Glory’s bell,
Beyond is Serena, and she is not to be found by the sinners and liars, but exists for those worthy; ergo, I may not have her,
Beyond is Serena, and I love her.
