Poetry by Mattie Hamby

Ade to Ginsberg

by  Mattie Hamby

Words hurled together in a fury of images, movements
Sounds clinging against each other. Crashing nouns
Hit clankering adjectives while thrashing violently
With restless verbs all around arousing alarming
Abounding amounting accosting alliteration

This maddening young unabating Ginsberg. Allen, I saw
You in an unannounced war slinging your detonated truths
With the deadly reach of a-bombs while I struggled to free
The Now&Later from its wrapper.
Assaulting the world with its faults helplessly uselessly
(because no one has more than one issue that they hold
dearer than the stinging sweetness of a sucked soft
Now&Later and who cares where the wrapper landed)
But hopefully you cried . . .

WOUNDED! I heard you calling while I thumbed at the roof
of my mouth. So many issues so many wounds. Where? I
Shouted looking at your mouth waiting seeking for the
Purple tongue (a sure sign of . . . grapeitis? Could it be
Grape flu?) when words ran out and blocked my view
You mouthed your wounds and I could see the whole in you
My whole world could fall right through
Now I am wounded too.

You are one big gaping wound! Hysterical child you are dying
Your wounds are too many to heal your heart is too soft
Not to feel the whole will never seal
But writing frantically you tried
To my surprise you still survived
Now I am fighting too.


What brings you hear to this reading place?
Television can’t compete with this sacred space.
Some people listen to the radio.
Others need television to be full.
Why then do some stop amidst the flow
To wade in waters deep but dull?
Shallow waters do run swift.
Could it be you fear the drift?
No, minds like yours are brave indeed.
The currents do not stop your lead.
Instead they bore you with their noise.
Like pots and pans thrill boys and girls,
But brilliant minds may never sleep
Until they taste the masterpiece.

On the Destruction of My Poetry

Of all the things you could have done to add insult to injury
To avenge a perceiv’ed wrong and wreak sorrow havocly
You had to strike the final match and drop the final drops
Now the world redeem’ed furls in a scorch’ed evil plot
To undo what thou hast not done
To end what had begun
To save us
From the hellish fiery booth
You have burned the holy truth
Now the ashes scattered lie
Like a broken midnight sky
And the heavens do reflect
Gems amid a sunken wreck
While the prophet’s heart does bleed
Hell hath no fury indeed
Like the fury of God’s own
But the truth I can not mourn
Forever lost it’s never been
So I write to seek again

To My Sisters in Chaos from Molestation

There is a time and place for everything
Like flowers that do bloom in ripened spring
But early flowers also come at times
And do suck at the frozen earth’s cold mines

And finding nothing in this world to nurse
The plant bows down with prayers of rebirth
The wind then comes and steals the frozen pod
And whisks the wretched seed back up to God
Now God looks down with pity for the child
And spots molesting hands in His own wild
And looks to see the person to be blames
And bellows with the wind to show His pain

The mother sleeps unraveled in the cold
And doesn’t know that Satan’s passed the gate
Her fruit kidnapped while she rests comatose
An angel’s flaming sword brandished too late

But prayers sent to God are heeded there
And God is never too late to repair
The seed is handed gently to the wind
And with God’s blessing sent to bloom again
Was once a hearse, the wind now guides the flight
Not back to dust, but dirty paradise


The Two Faces of Leonard

The bird was young and innocent
It didn’t know the house
That stood peculiarly quiet
In bricks of blood red
And gardens colorfully loud

The fence was steel around
The yard filled with green grass but
Also some patches gleefully
Rubbed out by the careless feet
Of children, two kids, Greg and me

The mulberries hung lazily
Too heavy to care
And fell on the gravel of the driveway
To be crushed or eaten there
By the carelessness of youth

So on the branch she perched
The nearest to the ground
And looked so curiously
On kennels emptied recently
Of newborn pups reared liberally
And then, restricted totally
And thus, rebelled quite naturally
That such unnatural methods did
Undo those furry pups

And then did Leonard turn on me
With renewed patriarchy
No longer indulging a little girl’s careless feet
And said the fence was just for me

And as the bird so curiously perched on the funny barbed tree
Of steel and wire
So did Leonard mercilessly aim and fire
Justifiably, because everything was his in his castle
The bird included tripped flutteringly
But Leonard’s aim was pitifully weak
And thus, a single wing’ed bird did teeter on defiantly
And just around the neighbor’s house did SCREECH