General Poetry posted January 20, 2013


Excellent
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
It aint what's in there!

The Measure in a Man's Pants

by Mike K2

The measure in a man's pants,
isn't something found at first glance;
it is the spirit of the words and deeds
inside him, not your preconceptions of his seeds.

Yes, some men are guided by what's in the pants;
like a compass needle searching for love's chance.
The trophy cup of sensation to possess is their predilection;
their hands wrapped in coitus around it, a wanted pre-dickion.

Others are the trophy which rests within their pants;
as their well known name succumbs to a possessive dance.
A pleasurable benefit of their fame, who's to blame?
Others with desire mimic the pants that held the fire!

Then there is the idealistic loner, falsely accused what's in his pants;
poetic progeny regarding love heralded, dismissed as a perverted prance.
He saw something inspired to praise, but only alarm was raised;
and in the cloths he is clad, standing with writing that praised!

Funny, how two museums thought with what is in a man's pants,
one penis they coveted, the other, treated like a rejected dick;
"Leave us! Don't come back! You're weird!" are their final chants.
Both are poets, Jim Morrison a rock and roll superstar;
and myself-an identifying fan and poet, but for the world a poetic spar.

Imagine a museum asking Jim's best friend:
"We want what made Jim Morrison great, would you have it by chance?"
Offered a cherished dictionary; they berate, "No, we want his leather pants!"
Could you imagine the irony of poetry and songs rejected, filling the page;
eclipsed by only perceptions of sensation of a presence seen on stage?

Whether phallic icon, or dejected pervert...
Two museums couldn't get past the penis,
killing off the poet standing inside his pants.

Funny how museums have their coveted treasures;
encased and guarded by security, so you can see...
But how sad is the forgotten soul beyond the donning skin,
it is the mind, heart, spirit and character which truly enchants.

Faithfully preserved are not their dicks, but their diction.
hopefully the dead poet is wearing his pants resting;
while the living poets,
keep walking with scroll in hand and firm conviction,
to bring to bear society's ills, or its good and enjoyments -attesting.

The real measure of any real man doesn't live as a penis made of skin,
but the displayed heart, mind and soul anyone can feel lying within.




Photograph copyright 2013, Michael W Kohlman Baltimore,MD

For those with any smart comments, using a camera for a self portrait is has the same effect of jumping into ice water.

In a sense, this poem is in regards to another poem I wrote, The Light of Love, and my museum demise is laid out in the notes.

Poems are like bats in a cave and when all is right, they release from hibernation and fly out of one's mind. I had some ideas of what I wanted to say, but no vehicle to relate the imagery. The ironic thing was with giving the lady the poem, thoughts of Jim Morrison popped into my mind. I know my work affected her very deeply and was overwhelming, but I feel she couldn't accept the words, and had to seek another reason that I would write it.

I purchased the CD by Ray Manzarek, titled, "Doors, Myth and Reality," which is the spoken history of the Doors and also Jim Morrison's and Ray Manzarek's lives. I feel this is the most valuable recording that I own.

In my biography I actually refer to Ray Manzarek as more of a ghost in my life then Jim Morrison. I was so happy to hear him speak so candedly about his life as I of Ray and his music, long before I knew of the Doors. I also loved him talking honestly about Jim, as when I studied them a few years ago, had a personal dream which forever change my conception of who Jim Morrison actually was. With Ray chides the movie of the Doors, I enjoyed it, but how they portraid Jim really didn't hold anything for me. This CD actually bolsters how I feel about Jim Morrison and I agree with Ray, it is about the man behind the poetry.

On disk 1, track 8, "The soul of the doors," I think Ray nails it and describes Jim Morrison's apartment they way my rooms was, minus the camera obscura and the hidden bullet hole. He also relates his expeirence at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame who inducted the Doors. He was asked if he had any of Jim's possessions, and he was happy to announce and sense, willing to donate, Jim's dictionary he had from colledge on. The muesom was only interested in his pants, and I thing Ray pinned it right!

Pays one point and 2 member cents.


Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.


© Copyright 2024. Mike K2 All rights reserved.
Mike K2 has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.