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Improvijazzation Nation poetry - Issue # 67

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ALL artists!  I am very, VERY happy to announce that IMPROVIJAZZATION NATION is ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS again.  I have been granted a (possibly long-term) stay of execution for my trip to Iraq.  I will still  be traveling all over the U.S., so new issues may be a little less timely, but (as always), we will review your materials as soon as possible after we receive them.  Look at the guidelines for submission below, please:


MUSIC:  All formats accepted.  Snail mail to:  Zzaj Productions, c/o Dick Metcalf, 5308 65th Avenue, Lacey, WA 98513  The only criteria for music you submit is that it MUST HAVE high performance energy... if you submit lacklustre material, it will be reviewed accordingly

POETRY:  Poems are accepted for publication ONLY via e-mail.  Poems submitted in any other fashion will NOT be published.  Poetry that includes some reference to music is granted first priority for publication.

BOOKS:  We will review some books; books about music are PREFERRED.  We will NOT return any books submitted for review.  Snail them to the address listed above for MUSIC.

DIY Announcements:  We will post your (e-mailed) ad about DIY projects, regardless of genre or medium... HOWEVER, this is ONLY for INDEPENDENTS... if you are a corporation, don't even BOTHER sending stuff... it will be marked and reported as SPAM!




Ancient featherly treads
In obscurity rapt
Screams, as red moonrise
Beckons him to tides
Where shadowed nightmare rides
And wind's razorrush
Through caverned city minds
Turns his absent eyes
To tears that search
Early evening auras
For more
Than echoes
Of reality




 Peace, a distant relative

Evening news, and other
Staged productions;

When mem'ry
Of the brotherhood;





Who would have me
Than my reality

Really diff'rent

To me!


                NEEDLE POINT

Crystalclaws glitter
in ivory coldmoon flash, this
Conscienceless razorfang midnight speaker
Incalculate seeks, the
Crimson's ruby flow...

Darkbreath dragon
Raises the shroud
Revealing sinisters' cloud, for
Passions predecessor

As mercury's monsoon
Turns to abandoned rapids
Frozen instants, and other
Of jaded immediacy...

Free in form, this antiquated
Unencumbered earthbreaker shapes
It's own momentum, and
In jugular approaches

The vain!


In the space of a single moment
Three moons past (in the arms)
Of this lover of abandon, that
All men's dreams are made of;

True recognition
Of the improvisational scheme
No curtain calls
Only beginnings
In this hustle, of

And the sisters come
As brothers go, to the beauty
Of butterflies in wanton streams
Becoming the beacons
For our passage
Into the next phase.





I knew it was improper

to throw away my three birthday cards

in the trash among the other

bits and butts and memories forgotten


looking at the irony of us all

clawing just to survive

the clock is our only scorecard

and only death provides peace


billons of people all pulled into the void

fighting yet another bloody battle

to suffer another day and night of loss

the pain and wretched scars

examining their failures

finding them with no meaning

I may be 37 today

but I quit

and refuse to play

I watch the towel hit

the center ring

before the next bell rings

so bleed without me.






success is a reward for all those ugly years

and I plan to repay all those million beers

I'll pull into your town on a typical night

guiding my way by the neon lights

hitting every tavern bar lounge on the drag

I'll walk into the bar and buy you a few

just a stranger passing by

and remembering.


I know what it's like to live underneath the bottle

times get tough and life's not fair

and sometimes I only got by

from the kindness of another drunk

a free drink for some horny admirer

all the beaten drunks

the usual barflys

are now creeping about

staring at me

unsure of my intentions.


when the drinks are poured

the bill is handed to me

just let me buy you all a few drinks

I have my own reasons

play johnny cash on the jukebox

I just want to watch all their faces

smiling in celebration

just for the old times

and those lost still on the road.





there must be some untold of operation

some special type of surgical procedure

to delete rip out the ugliness inside our grain

and bits and pieces and thoughts

that dirve us insane.


a way to unremember all our pain and sorrow

something to wash away weakness and fears

and forget all of the remorse and regrets

we've held dear for so many wretched years.


through surgery they could take away our sadness

leave us with peach joy and gladness

so every night we sit and wish upon a star

we'll fall asleep at night proud of who we are.


most of all I need to rid the loneliness in my heart

it eats at me until at last my tears fall down

someone to love and cherish and never be apart

I want to try to touch the sky and never touch the ground.


just a way to make things right with who I really am

taking away all the ugliness that hurts and eats away

give me love, give me hope, give me faith in who I am

until then I'll bleed away and wait for that sunny day.



copyright 2002, Dave Anderson, 2414 West 24th St., #18, Kearney, NE 68845,  





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