Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

Steel-Belted Liberation…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Liberation Fantasies,Life & Death — Bob at 10:56 am on Monday, August 22, 2011

August 20, 2011

Sunrise

Rays dancing on my Soldered Lids

My fragile spine a Gordian Knot

Takes an hour of contortions

To give my body back to me

To beat unstoppable Time

That Posse that pursues me

Through the Night

Into the Dawn

God,

Give me

One-more-day

***

Falling out of bed

I escape the Darkness

And for one more day

That choice is mine

****

Awake and Naked

Icy water on my face

I wince into the Mirror

Who the Hell is that?

***

Worn jeans hang lifeless

On a peg on a wall

Waiting for me

Like a patient Hound

Awaiting my touch

I slide into them

Shape matching Shape

The Uniform of the Unregimented

*** 

Outside, drenched in Dew

My ancient van awaits me

Older than all my grandchildren

Put together

It dozes

Silent in repose

***

The dull key in my hand

Unlocks more than a door

It unleashes that Spark that unites us

Melds us

The big motor rumbles!

Grumbles!

***

I click on the Radio

The wide dial like Beckoning Beauties

Stretched out in a Line

“Choose me!”

“Choose me!” 

They cry

Temptresses of Sound

I choose my Poison

Rhythm and Blues

Electrifying the Air

***

My morning brew nests

In a holder on the floor

Close to my hand

Steaming

***

A boiling Quart

Four tea bags

Unpremeditated Sugar

Swirling together

To put my pulse in gear

And my Heart in the Fast Lane

***

Horses under the Hood?

Oh, man, not merely Horses!

Painted Apaches riding bareback into Battle

Spanish Mustangs racing for the open plains

Untethered and Free

Mounted Knights in Black Steel

Thundering toward each other

Lances aimed at each other’s hearts

Oh, Jesus! ”I am all that

When my motor roars to life

And then, I go

***

1950’s Rockers synthesizing my overdrafts

Defiant songs of Dead Singers

Overtaking my obligations

Disappearing in my rearview mirror

Their Treble an Opiate

Chasing Shadows from my mind

The booming Bass coursing through my body

Reminding me of other pleasures

***

My nimble fingers

Conduct

The Orchestra of the Wind

Rampaging past my Ride

***

An Engine that Ignites

A Transmission that Engages

Four Steel-Belted Tires &

A Full Tank of Gas

***

I am Man joined with Machine

Invincible–and so much more

Than the Sum of our

Rusty Parts

***

We Mesh

We Move

We are Synchronized

Hey, Moron!!

Blocking my Open Road:

Get

The Hell

Out

Of

My

Way

!!!

*** 

I am going Nowhere

Making excellent time

So happy

So complete

In my pointlessness

&

Racing toward my Horizon

**********************************

(As of April 10, 2017, this part below about my store is no longer true, but I left it as an artifact of my earlier life)

About the writer and his other life in Skokie, Illinois:

Bob Katzman’s Magazine Museum:

100,000 periodicals back to 1576!
Wall of Rock: 50 years of cool Rock periodicals on display & for sale
4906 Oakton St. (8000 north and 4900 west) Skokie, Ill 60077
(262) 752-3333 Mon-Fri: 10 am to 5 pm / Weekends: 10 am to 2 pm

Katzman’s Publishing Company site: www.FightingWordsPubco.com
Katzman’s online non-fiction stories: www.DifferentSlants.com

Poetry? For me, writing poetry is not an option.
It’s a response to emotion. Like cigarette smoke,
it’s fast-flowing, shapeless and with little time to capture it.
Writing poetry in an imperative. I say what I feel compelled to say.

Fast, reliable service. Read my stories and see what you think.
I’m also available for hire to read my true Chicago stories to organizations
and answer all questions. I autograph my books when I sell them.

I am currently seeking an agent to do more readings.
Feel free to call me at the number above.

5 Comments »

Comment by Brad Dechter

August 22, 2011 @ 11:57 am

Great visualization. I was there with you Bob!
Getting old really sucks!

Comment by Don Larson

August 22, 2011 @ 12:00 pm

Good job, Bob!

Somedays I almost feel that way too.

Don

Comment by Herb Berman

August 22, 2011 @ 12:01 pm

Great, Bob! Reminds me of myself at 18, when rock ‘n roll was new and exciting and I was young and dumb.

Comment by David Griesemer

August 25, 2011 @ 6:28 pm

You could have been a very wealthy man, had you taken your talents to Madison Avenue. Car companies pay good money for words like those. You hear them every night, ten or fifteen times a night, describing vehicles, making them so much more than the sum of their parts. And making you more than the naked fragile stranger in your mirror. Making us happy and complete, even in our pointlessness.
You could have been a very dangerous man, Bob.

Comment by Bob

August 26, 2011 @ 5:47 pm

But am I not a dangerous man with less extinguishable value if I champion resistance, friendship, loyalty, determination and an unwillingness to accept abuse and intolerence?

When today’s technical marvel on four wheels is disintegrating into flecks of rust and the ad men who sang its praises doing likewise, will not what I value, cherish and wrote about not endure within men’s breasts, and continue to make them stand up for something or someone worth fighting for, somewhere?

This is my dream.

To still be valued, to still inspire, when I no longer exist.

Bob

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