Biography of Lawrence Beck
My advice to anyone reading one of my poems: read it so quickly as you can the first time through. Since I write in a rush, my melody will become most evident if you read in a rush.
I have a web site, www.lawrencebeck.net, which contains more of my recent poems than the 50 I leave up here. I refresh this site every other month.
Alas, I must add this: if you write to me asking me to read your poems, I may, but I will not comment on them. I am very sick of numbers hogs who troll through a day's list of contributing poets, and ask each one to read his or her poem. If you write well, someone may notice and comment. If you browbeat people into reading your poetry, the comments you receive are worth nothing.
Lawrence Beck's Works:
- Come Join The Islamic State -new-
- The Warm Glow Of Reflected Glory -new-
- Bonsai -new-
- A Dash Of Bitters -new-
- Sore Thumb -new-
- Therapy -new-
- Ahead Of A Visit With The Head Shrinker -new-
- Serial Ariel -new-
- Submerged -new-
- Siddhartha's Headed For Vegas! -new-
- In The End, The Solipsist...
- Talking Shop With The Good Doctor
- Kindred Spirits
Lawrence Beck Poems
On A Gloomy Day
Something's rolling in among the clouds, And falling with the rain: a gnawing Sense of emptiness. Has every gesture Been for naught, each lover flattered
She's gone again without a word. I swear it wasn't me this time, But I'm abandoned, nonetheless, And acting like a dog which can't
I don't know, Dave. It seems that I'm unable to suspend belief. Your movie's fun enough, I guess. The couple's very beautiful. That
What Must Be
Logic? No, there's none to this. There's none to anything, you know. The sun comes up, but really doesn't. We are spinning, but not sick.
I am hungry, dear. I have to leave. I saw you months ago, and thought You needed food. I fed you love, But you have given none to me. I don't
Sure, Let's Talk About The Riot
Oh, look, these men with scowling faces, shaven, Wearing fancy suits, it must be nice to have a job, Are in a circle on TV, and they are saying, 'This is Wrong. These riots only hurt the ones who burn
The Eunuch's Lament
I didn't need to learn the role. A simple snip, and it was mine: The eunuch; lucky me. They Have me dressed in fancy clothes.
An Enduring Mystery
You're near. That's all I need to know. The details of your nearness are obscure To me, but that's okay. I'll write to you, And you'll reply. I'll conjure up your
You Never Hear This Side Of The Story
I'm not asking you to love me. You Will not, but can't you understand? I'm just a snake, a freighted creature, In a garden, set-up piece, wound
That would be me, in a suit, at a bus stop, Going to do what I couldn't do long. That was a future I'd had, but it passed. Now, I shuffle among piled stacks
The Future Revealed In The Front Yard
If it came to this, I'd fail. I know. The turkeys on the lawn are puffed up. Manly men! They strut. Their ladies Surely swoon, and your beau, he's
The Gloom Moved With Me
The rain is different here from How it was where I was growing up, More vicious, with a shorter reign. It wounds, but quickly moves away,
A True Story
“What wretchedness is this? , ” I wailed. What dims my senses so that I now Cannot love these things I see, and Do not, as I always did, erupt with
The Fourth Law
It's something apple-addled Newton Might have thought that fateful day, So ruthless is its symmetry. You tell Us both you won't be mine, you can't,
I am hungry, dear. I have to leave.
I saw you months ago, and thought
You needed food. I fed you love,
But you have given none to me. I don't
Know if you even tried. Your silence
Stands, stern maitre d, before the
Swinging kitchen doors, and every
Plate which issues from it shows
Up clean when brought to me.