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Wordbombs
Edition
Two
A
new collection of poems
by
Bill Perilli
Wordbombs
Edition
Two
This
is a collection of poems written
by
William Perilli of Natick Massachusetts.
These
poems were mostly inspired and
written
with a furious automatic writing
without
further editing except for obvious
misspellings
and missed words
in
the style of poets and songwriters
The
author would very much like to make
a
living at writing: poems, short stories, novels.
And
so if you enjoy this collection however you have
acquired
it please donate to me (pay me) for
the
pleasure of enjoying my work.
For
this work as it now stands I would like
$4.50
US. After you have paid me you
may
then print out a single copy.
If
you do not wish to print this, fine.
But
I still would like to be paid.
For
each print that you make
Please
provide to me $4.50 US
That
is the price as of today, Friday Aug 10, 2007.
As
inflation is a reality that price will most likely go up.
Bill
Perilli
59
Beaver Dam Road
Natick,
MA 01760
If
you do not wish to pay me for my poems than
I
hope that you get better off financially. Naturally I don't expect
payment
from everyone, but I do believe that my work warrents
patronage.
Donations can be as large as you like.
Thank
You.
All
these poems
were
written night of
July
12, 2007,
a
Thursday,
in
my living room chair.
copyright
2007
If
you must copy, please pay for your copy.
Contact
Amillia Publishing
or
the Author.
details
on back face.
1.
Someone
who's tripping on television
(on
mushrooms)
and
it's 1959 with the talk show
piano
Jack
rapping
in
stereo
if
you
git
the revinylled
But
it's never cyvinylled
if
it skips and makes a scratch
repeating
over and over
the
same lame devices
forgive
us, Oh Lord
All
our super contrived
drama
queen plot complications
1A.
Broken.
It's
Broken
so
I'll put it outside
(to
be hauled away)
Next
it's the future
and
I don't remember
what
it was
I
started this poem with.
My
heart
sits
in a deep wood
far
down inside
where
you don't know about
'cept
now I'm telling you. . .
But
are you hearing it?
-
So it's way down inside this wood
By
a pond, oh ya --
Winter
with another hill on the
other
side
Me
walking forward towards
the light
I
don't remember more
than
going back to the
car.
2.
Back
at the car where I waited
a
second for the car to heat up
Then
pulled out into
the
Concord twilight
off
home by Walden Pond
Which
is whatever--
no
one cares really
But
it's there
so
go there if you want
It's
easy to find
No
free parking
Weary
Am I from lack of sleep
and
yet I wrote awake
in
the night
this
silliness
from
the chair
in
my living room
Atop
the hill that is my head
A
sacred high and holy place
like every head
--
2A
A
sacred high and holy place
he
could not help but come
to
profane
like
pissing on roses when you don't have to
Or
letting a Beetle
squirm
around on its back
and
cause a racket
while
you're calm on a chair
smoke
drifting
upward
the
miasma
of
the film
that
ciran wraps that consciousness.
I'm
afraid.
I
can't let this go on - - -
3.
My
Blah Blah Blah
was
blah blah
and
I said that
just
like that
on
television
And
I said it with surety
and
clarity
Damn
the neighsayers - - -
So
Blah Blah
Blah
Blah
And
I don't care
if
you agree
cause
I'm not saying anything
that
I need your opinion on - - -
Blah
Blah Blah
Blah
Blah
3a.
Wake
up
Wake
up
get
up
go
to bed
Get
up - -
Haul
up, stand up
go
to bed - - -
To
bed
Bed Bed Bed - - -
Get
up
Shut
off the electric thing
Go
to Bed
Go
to bed - - -
Bed
4.
Low
Blood Sugar Celebrity Fall Down.
Stop
for a sandwich
and
some soup
and
water
and
a piece of pie -
Then
go to the awards ceremony ---
Cry
Cry
in the night for your mate
Lay
your eggs on a leaf
Keep
it wet until the hatch
I
used to write poems, little poems
in
the room that I'd rented
and
the Bottle of jack
Always
too drunk to finish.
4a.
Celebrity
slap-down talking all day on the
spendy
channel named dirty wood ---
So
she told me how much less life would
cost
if I took over my own mind. “cost your
sanity”
she said while gathering her laundry.
Next
morning all that was gone
with
a new weather front
having
suddenly changed the season
And
the expectations
of
all the folks
who
lived in the hills
which
surround the harbor.
Forward.
Forward
relentless
science forward drilling
into
the solid hubrick rock
of
the burgeoning, ever growing
luxluzient
sparkinton
explositoozees
- doozies
these
bombs of words --
Forward.
5.
Some
days when the dark element burns out
I
take my bridled expectations for a ride to the woods
And
when I'm there unbridle
the
horse
I
let him free
and
walk along old roads
near
rickety fences
in
the time
just
in front of the rain
which
I was just starting to feel
Some
distant hills have easements
power
lines wedged through the craggy cliff faces
Some
distant hills are fields
timbered
and then cows let to run free
Some
hills got stone walls way up and down them
deep
within a forested place.
5a.
Very
few go or know to go
and
leaves collect
and
will some day cover over
these
mountainside mysteries
which
might soon be lost
from
the realms of human concerns
Fierce
wind
Conspired
against the rain
saying
(in effect) be free of me
and
so clouds
crashed
down
thunderbolts
upon
the hills
trees
and
powerlines
Fierce
wind
not
to be outdone by the clouds
spun
around so fast
ripping
down 89 thousand trees
From
Springfield Vermont
in
a swath all the way up towards
Grantham
and
all
the trails
were blocked
on every
mountain.
6.
And
all the trails were blocked
on
the way to Frenches Ledges
and
there we were
on
Memorial Day
No
one else
out
and about
and
absolutely no one else on the
trail
that
wasn't there anymore.
About
the Author: Bill
Perilli has written since childhood.
His influences include God
and old books by dead people. This book contains his freshest work.
Bill is an advanced critical process
software architect, aspiring novelist, song writer, and poet.
Bill was inspired early in life
to alternative prose and poetry, having firmly given over to fantasy
after suffering a nervous breakdown upon reading The Bell Jar in one
sitting on a rainy, windy, freshman in college homesick Friday
evening after classes and before going to get really really drunk. .
. and totally forgetting about it by morning.
By 2001 Bill was no longer given over
to binge drinking with friends and acquaintances in public and
suffered through the lonely place as spoken of in Mathew 11 (is that
it?). . . Bill has become more grounded
and has taken a strong interest of late in the lore and mythology of
New England, New York, San Francisco, Seattle,
Las Vegas, LA, USA , Amerienaissance
writing, art work, culture, people, loving, beat, winning, success,
happy happy joy joy, satisfaction not only guaranteed but bonded for
150 million dollars. . .
MCMXXII L L JLK
or V JLK Renaissance
Forever MCMLXIX
If you print out copies of
this book please forward $2.50 per copy for each work printed.
Volume copy discounts will be considered. If you enjoy this work
please forward $2.50 to the Author. This is the price as of July, 18,
2007, date of manufacture of this poetry collection. If you really
enjoy it, a volume discount is available. Please
disregard
senseless nonsense
always. This message is provided for honest people.
All other people will disregard this message no matter how I try to
provide convincing and mildly amusing parody disclaimers that compel
some to provide me my due royalties. After receiving enough for this
manuscript I will then place it into the public domain. This
manuscript can be placed into the public domain for $??????.??
dollars sterling. . . bidders?
Think about it.
Forward
all payments to W. Perilli,
59 Beaver Dam
Road, Natick, MA,
Care of Amillia
Publishing Company.
All
these poems were written in the notebook with the olive
green cover dated july 13, 2007, crossed out, then dated Aug 26,
2007, which must be a mistake cause it is only Aug 10, 2007 today, as
I type these in and format them.
So
I scribbled out the 'Aug' and wrote july, assuming I just got the
month wrong, you know how the mind works
when
it is on the verge of poetry.
copyright
2007
If
you must copy, please pay for your copy.
Contact
Amillia Publishing
or
the Author.
details
on back face of last session.
Dead
like the wind that screams at the edge of teh highway
Dead
-- Dead like the waves becalmed upon
the
shorelines.
Dead
like the sails --
Dead
like a leaf
ready
to roll on back
into
the ground
to
be absorbed
and
once again
taken
up ---
Like
the wind suddenly rising
A
storm
Suddenly
brewing
or
love
Suddenly
blooming.
The
daddysaur
like
the dinosaur
never
lived
but
in the stuff of
saturday
morn
cartoons
put
out --
place
down
in
front to see
and
daddy didn't really
listen
except
to toy and show
(to
himself) how
weaaaally
weally
smart
he is
and
taunting you
when
you pout ---
I
don't care about that
now.
He
doesn't remember.
He
doesn't pay heed to my concerns.
Done
and gone
let's
say no worrys ---
I'm
all over with
there
isn't
anything more
to
say
just
moving along
get
in my car
stick
in a tape
and
drive away
And
they'll be big hills
pillered
in saffron
sunset
Floating
along the
far
horizons
joyous
and
on into the night
Dogs
that
barked at the
moon
always
seemed to
know
to me ---
something
else ---
some
big concerns of
the
night ---
rushing
towards the back
fence
in
twilight
howling
at teh sounds
of
Natick childhood
and
ready to do battle
against
the evil
forces
of the night
shoud
they come around
but
they won't
they
won't
---
afraid of the howl
My
hearaches disappeared
with
the reappirition of
Rumi
in
my life ---
flodding
suddenly
with
the rememory ---
Here
I am writing again
Big
Poems
I
print them out
in
many colors
enjoying
my life
pretending
the strife ---
is
gone --- me all bliss
you
all reading
my
poems
OK
Not
now
You
Gotta show ---
My
supper I made for
tomorrow
but I won't
eat
it then ---
maybe
I'll drive to Mt
Washingtoon
and
see mountainsides
in
full glowing dusk ---
Fall
into a rainbow of the dawn
standing
on a far ledge
at
teh top of the
trail
looking
down
on
heaven
way
down below
my
car
the
water and the
cheese
Two
eggs and a biskett
Winter
names disspaair
'Lucky'
cause
dispair
doesn't need
repair
but just
to
be done with
to
be put out into the
street
of life
Alone
and
dopey
drugged like
Banger
with hi oxies
and
the shoe horn with
the
lighter ---
Winter
won't be here
untill
the year
winds-down
right
now
it
raves
and
we're all gone
crazy
in
the july night
the
sound of fright
and
spoiled vacations
of
dust clouds over Chatham
the
rush of the tide over
the
breeches
Cars
washing down
along
the beaches
of
Banda Achee
We
haven't forgot
to
say 'weasel don't
cry
my baby
don't
cry
but
sleep.
A
token jones I got
but
it's not real.
I
did afford the luxury
of
being affluently
stupid
Like
a gun going off in
the
house
or
a cleaver chopped down
on
a mouse
or
a poem with words used
just
cause they
rhyme
---
I
toll up another spleef
from
my meager dime ---
Lousers
--- Lousers begone
from
my life
I
could say but if it
came
true -- That'd be
just
about everyone
including
myself
I'm
positive -- so I keep
getting
sapped
with
Awareness
that
kick me in the ass
like
a chair being pulled
away
drunk
and with nothing
to
say
I
fall ---
To
bounce Back
My
hip hurts a little --
I'm
sure it will heal
with
rest
cause
I didn't
fall
that
hard
My
mom is mom not
your
mom I love
her.
My
mom is better mom
to
me not you
my
mom's got hair
she's
got beautiful hair
and
eyes
that
make you
sing
to
angels
my
mom
Tall
and kind she
feeds
me
wine
of Jesus
no
knowing
what
else to do
scared
she'll
make
a mistake ---
I
doubt that doubt will
count
when
you take the
garbage
out --
And
watch the bondsman
count
When
they come to let you out ---
Express
at best some jest
you
say
But
is it real ?
really
is it real?
or
is it just that you feel
a
fool
no
hope today
for
love
you
know it is real
you
just haven't
figured
who --
Loneliness
and solitude
left
alone to
follytude
to
drink and smoke
and
die --
Close
the door
be
no more
you
walk away
but
you will not
say
why
We
all die --
Why
worry about that now?
My
reach is
through
this page
a
rage of light and
shade
I
do invoke with
holy
hope to say
OK
Be
well
and
sell the sun
its
life
sell
the moon
its
children
sell
you dream
its
morning
Dawn
in a dream
Far
said upon distant
hills
wondering
right
here
these
trees in
the
dusk
silhouetted
against
the
dawn of a dream
alone
in the room
of
midnights
dreaming
awake
to
be God's Child
me
--
God's
Child ---
Like
Jesus ---
I
awake in the the test
at
that indeterminate
time
of could be
midnight
---
The
whoing
in
the night
and
chirps all around --
Of
course teh tent is full of
the
light of this darkness --
Like
sparklers
hovering
on the flap
of
the tent
screen
---
Which
distant baying
did
you mean
when
you said
in
the night
you
heard distant
baying?
Was
it the baying with
the
moon
and
the sound of the rain
of
a dog forelorn
for
the hunt?
Was
the howl of a wolf who
knows
food when he
sniffs
And
sense the sound
of
the night?
Did
foxes bay -- little yipe
gone
mornfull and
loud
so close by
just
like now?
Or
cayotes in mating
in
union
with
God in the Light?
Which
distant baying
Did
you mean?
My
sorrow was named
Fred
So
I brought him to
Washington
(DC)
said
“see
see
it's
all the same
the
same
just
like on the hill
in
Boston
greedy
greedy greedy
'cept
Boston's nicer
and
here they're more
greedy
--
As
punishment they
have
to live here”
You
poopoo'd --
Annoyed
at my rant
And
told me I was
judging
You
judged that I
was
judging ---
Wwdhat
judge?
what
kind of judge?
Those
gavel bangers
and
their guildedmidnights
I
see them at summer
lodges
during
the day
when
I shower
All
dress brand nee
just
back from buying
clothes
For
the hike
that
they don't
really
take ---
Deep
in the woods on teh
mountainside
I
was lost --
for
a day alone
and
hurt ---
a
preppy ranger with a
cashmere
scraf
saved
me from the
blizzard
--
He
drove me back to
my
car in a
Rolls
Royce Snow Cat --
We
all need each other
rich
and poor
But
the rich need us
more
cause
the wouldn't
know
what to do
if
left to their own
devices
if
they had to make their
own
rice and
had
to make their own
stew
--
We
need them
we
need them to
buy
our stew
for
more money for one
bowl
than
a years worth of
stew
for a hundred
people
costs to
make
--
Fremdrake
Fuffy Puff P
was
flying in his humvee
up
495
on
a horror-ride
one
Sunday
during
rain
wheels
spinnin out of
control
He
went on a roll
and
ended up
on
a powerline ---
Pzzzzeezzeezee
zoo
zee spawk
see
Pzzee
Barbaque
for the
ravens
---
My
heart
my
heart in
a
box of raisans
don't
know why
I
don't know wy
my
heart in a box of raisons
That
could have been
wine
--- holy wine
My
heart make of joy
eating
holy raisons
thinking
out side of the
cleché
You
with
those eyes
I
love your eyes --
your
expressive eyes ---
those
fine dark eyes --
so
kind and wise
I
think
cause
you love
your
love
for
me
A
mother's love
A
brother's love
so
real
your
eyes in love
with
me so real
Those
eyes
so
real
I
see
in
every happy
eyes
of
the same kind of
kind
guys
Pudding
pop
your
eyes
your
eyes
they're
mine
like
mine
I
don't own them no ---
of
course I don't
own
them no ---
But
they're mine
like
mine --
Pudding,
I've
sinned --
you
know I've sinned
I
was so good for so
long
I
sinned
I'm
sorry
Lord
I'm
sorry
Jamies
dog's a
quiet
dog,
A
humble dog
Jamie's
dog's
Cayota
Cayota
come
when
called
and
all
the
time we'd
walk
in
the Arboretum
she'd
never bark --
But
follow close behind
or
run between the
trees
or
sniff and run around
and
dig in the grubs
But
never bark
nver
bark at strangers
or
frighten little children
Martin's
Dog was
a
vicious dog
with
vicious teeth
But
I loved him
and
rolled with him
on
the lawn -- That dog
love
me too
loved
me
too
and
would growl and
snarl
or
howl and
barrel
along
with
bounding ferocity
towards
the doe
we
saw so sweet
and
small.
Martin's
dog was
a
vicious
snarly
dog
The
plants,
my
plants
I
planted last year
grew
---
and
they fed
the
squirls
and
teh rabbits
ate
the scabosia
like
they were lettace
and
the turkey
ate
the
pansies
like
they were cabbage
and
teh foxes
ate
teh bunnies
like
they were
chocolate.
My
heartache
I've
covered it
over
with
the hubris of life
Five
years gone
from
that love
who
I'm sure if you
are
dear
reader
you
can figure out
who
---
sweet
friend
only
handsome
in
my mind --
In
real life
very
mean
and
unkind ---
oh
how harsh I judge
the
ones I love --
I
can't yet give
a
fair opinon on the
man
--
Red
Read
your torah
in
Blue
Blew
a point two
went
to jail
Yellow
Yell
low in the chair ---
Lame
Lame
Poem
Take
it out
Take
it out --
My
Best Poems
are
my worst poems
but
for different
reasons
---
Starlight
fed that bird
The
bird was strong
it
flew away
The
bird was strong
and
fed on
starlight
it
flew away
You
didn't see the
bird
it
lived in the palm
at
teh end of the mind
it
flew off intto
eternity
to
breed ---
Pray
hopes to say well to see
that
bird again
(or
one like it)
Pray
hopes to boost and
save
the
men
Lost
in ships
gone
down to sea
Tray
hopes to them
and
let them
live
in
eternity ---
And
foundlings on the
waes
to
be returned like babes
to
their homes --
the
dear sailors
alone
in
life boats
straving
pray
hopes they
will
be found
and
saved
and
returned to
the
kind arms of their
hopes
and lovers ---
My
seeds
the
seeds that I
bought
this year
I
left in the drawer
I
left in the drawer
too
busy too worried
to
seed teh yard ---
I
got hundreds of
flowers
anyway
and
enjoy the
flowers
everone
else
planted
this year
as
well
and
the ones that
just
grow on their own
What
did I need to do?
Walk
off into the
night?
Take
the trail up to
the
ridgetop?
Stand
beneath the
whishing
pines?
Watch
the far away
horizon?
write
poems at dawn upon a ridge?
No
matter what I do
the
sun cames up
in
splender
Spin
Spin
World
forever
as
you fall
fall
into
eternity.
Distant
space is
not
here
and
does it come?
Does
it come as
asteroids
to
pull
our Earth apart?
Spin
Spin
well World
and
fall
Fall
Fall
forever
into
eternity --
That
show
that
show was
funny!
And
it was teh only
one
for Tuesday
nights
---
Those
rainy nights
That
year --
And
I'd come home
just
to see it
all
Winter
and
to sit and drink
ice
water
in
my chair
But
then in Spring
Tuesdays
was Lowell
Tuesdays
was Salem
Tuesdys
were
driving
off into
the
orange sunset
long
walks
long
walks by
the
river
long
walks by the
highway
And
I never thought
about
it --
My
Tuesday show
till
I wrote this
poem
just now
Wopnder
what Cedrick'd
say
in
his line man's
boots
About
the rain.
Probably
nothing
He
didn't like to
talk
to me --
maybe
he talked to
other
people --
The
neighbors cat
is
cute ---
Was
in my yard
probably
hunting
bunnies
hunting
bunnies
so
cute
But
not cute
not
cute either
if
the cat
gets
the bunny
not
cute ---
Who
di you know
I
didn't know anybody
Who
do you miss
I
don't remember
any
of them
They
didn't love me
They
left me alone --
I'm
driving
I'm
alone --
It's
Saturday
I'm
somewhere
in
between
Milfor
Mass
and
Hartford --
At
the Folk festival
No
bodies dancing
Ruby
they
should be dancing
if
I dance
I'll
be the only one
and
cause a scene
or
start a storm --
Stand
by the window
glass
looking
in
seeing
the
whole of life
strolling
by --
Dream
to write a
great
novel
what
does it matter
great
novels have
already
been written --
They
should be dancing
why
isn't anyone
dancing
--
She
wants to dance
so
she twitches
in
rhythm
Out
of the corner of
my
eyes
in
rythm andclapping
for
the banjoist ---
After
the trolly ride
walking
along the front of the crowd
At
the lLowell Folk Festival
A
little Blond 1 year old dances
his
totteler jig to the band
This
was written while driving . . .
dangerous
perhaps but I was on the highway and inspired. . .
I
was on a
Mountain
top
In
S. Central
Conn
where
I
know there
are
no
Mountains
It
wasn't a
ridge
top way
down,
or a
ridge
linee
Part
up but
farther
up ---
And
I surveyed the world
around
I
surveyed the
world
around
the
fields of wine
and
song in fruit
They
said
you
made this
land
-- this is
yours
I said
you
must be mistaken
I
didn't make this
land
but The Lord ---
we
know that
they
said we
mean
you did
the
work to
clear
these fields
and
grow these
trees
I said.
Are
you sure it
was
me?
no
longer in the car
I
had a steak in my
room
that
steak in my room
my
son ate
but
I don't have a son so I ate
it
and I would
have
let him have
half
if
he were real.
end
of current collection from front of
olive
green covered notebook.
Wordbombs
Edition
Two
Augmented
with added poems,
this
is a much more extensive collection.
None
of the original poems
have
been tampered with.
This
product is certified commercial free except pay me.
This
product, pay me. I need to live. Pay me.
Pay
everyone who works for you. Pay me. I'm working for you.
You
know I'm working for you so pay me. . . . send me money, send me
lot's of money (but only if you can afford to do it).
Also
be generous and support the arts. Avoid greed, avarice, gluttony,
and be a general and all around good person. Pay me. Appreciate
humor. Pay me. No, really, I want to be paid for this.
Great
care has been taken to try and amuse and enlighten the reader, but I
can't do that, you have to do that to yourself. One of those things
is supporting artists such as myself. I have not tried to sway you,
but to help you see the joy of life . . . Naturally then this
pamphlet can just be a catalyst for that.
Please
send donations to:
(large
as you want, $4.50 per copy is suggested
or
just $4.50 if you don't print it)
William
Perilli
59
Beaver Dam Road
Natick,
MA 01760
copyright
2007
all
rights reserved
Worldwide
and in Outer Space
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