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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 feel1






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.2

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.3 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

1 poet's comment : don't really unbridle a horse and walk away from it, of course not! please reread poem and pause at the end . . .

2 This was Spring 2007, probably just a few days before we hike this hill.

3just kiddin', bro

Copyright 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 ©. Amillia Publishing Company. All rights reserved.
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