“Happiness for the Hedon” and “Calamity Jane and Mary” by A.M. Oron

“Happiness for the Hedon” and “Calamity Jane and Mary” by A.M. Oron

Happiness for the Hedon


Evening in the Valley
the stillness invites imagination and whimsy
everything is in balance
ever changing
ever flowing
a constant
desire moving toward equilibrium
consuming and sloughing the fantastic energies of always

cosmic harmony
utopia and cataclysm concurrently
I sat a light by the doorway and floated away with her

all night from the back stair I watched the darkness
the smoke tumbled away as I stared
my head swam
I began to feel myself pouring out into ethereality
anchors weighed tethers loosed
I felt as though I were an instant and
I am

my body now merely an odd facet
or façade
with awkward controls and mechanisms
claimed to be designed by the perfect entity
but so regrettably outsourced for mass production
What now, then?
your product is no longer worth the material it costs
we are not viable
help me understand
Why must the body be temple,
                            revered as such
the vessel of self                   that it is
the theater                                  objectified
pride of evolution                                    idolized
when the mind should be                             well looked after  

the thoughts as smoke wandered in sheer veil of night

Calamity Jane and Mary

Thee i shall lead
down manhole covers covered in graffiti pentagrams
and incantations of yore
face of the deep we shall find many lost
and lonely souls refracting retractable incandescence
along grim hallways of the grimy gastric city byways

subterranean home to man, beast, waterfowl and endless rodents
and microscopic ultraseptic particles filling our eyes, ears, noses and brains detracting exactly what we hold

freedom of belief in torrential invented storms of psychosomatia
respire by diffusion contracting and reenacting the black plague
from long forgotten an era


Reinvention, rebirth, reincarnation, or what have you,
an ever expanding mind glows in the dim sum of a life abused
and as a precocial mammal leaving the nest
it vanishes into the grand labyrinth of sanitation
out from the in and
up through the glass ceiling
unfazed now by the societal forget me knots
formerly used to tie down a rash and insatiable spirit

and finally one of those days emancipation finds you
land locked and despondent
amidst an ocean of faces
cleansing your vision of the work loaded load of
bullshit you use to keep ‘em off your back
a vicious cycle indeed this thing of money
a memory now and quickly fading
as you are phased through the spheres of ozone
they used to lie was dying
burning away in the great bowl in the sky

three texas teenagers robbed a grave of its skull for a marijuana bong

retention of convention broken you have been unshackled
moral compass now a hearth decoration
shimmers in the light from the burning biomass in your fireplace
the federal firehouse dogs worked tirelessly to extinguish
your anguish with fluoride and popular music charts encouraging
dumbassedness but the acid mind your thoughts swim in
could never be bothered by such comically senseless
diversions distributed through domineering drayage of dreck
designed to dilute you through basic rituals

your released essence begins to separate as
kaleidoscope eyes open drawing you lightyears from home
never to return but to reconvene with the brine of the swells and the
proverbial ever turning tides lapping the beaches
where great newly legged fish recite magic spell and
jack karouac’s on the road again and again and again
until you are overcome


and an age has passed
now bare, fucking, naked creatures you behold
in a field intended to hold the water of a thousand rains
they cry out, grand spirituals
attract and distract your attention
until you have outlived your former self
Don’t you see?
the afore mentioned dons
a new guise of dawnal misery and aching

the cycle is reborn and all of the old wounds
once torn have been licked clean by a genius of theater
wholly committing to the character

pleasant is the face of a soul burdened
when the soul burdened is masked
by a make believe tumult of awkward instant mania
and the first animal monstrosity people may see
is the high rise corners of my mouth
dreadfully heavy things to hold but

I have been made to be strong by choice of associates
i have been made to long suffer the idiots I must interact with
i have been made to be hard by those I have loved
i have been made to decide to give in
i have been made to turn my mind off

and as i visually consume stupid things
I begin to feel a lightness not unlike living high above the ground
in the ground angel wing clouds but this is not happiness
its merely a diversion
this is escape
escape from thought

I can hear you from lives prior
shouting in stereo with former selves of mine
spurring me on as a show pony ready for the sad steeplechase
where bells ring in contention
sonically at war
unable to make harmony
between even two tone enculturations
into cultesque
hive mind
idiot synchronization

almost defeated by a randomly accessed memory vault
of all catalogued experiences
throughout living christendom
all of whom point to no deity other
than the never-ending all giving earth mother
I forget what happened
entwined with complex explanations of string theory
the multiple universes converge on the center spot
and turn inside out
realizing all fantasies and
damning space
and self control

A.M. Oron has not provided a bio.

Category : Issue Five July 2017 Tags :

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