Treasure Island

Noel Marsh

(4/6/74 / Tucson, AZ)


I remember 16
Wild-eyed and bright
Arguing and drawing contemplative awe
At the largesse of life and the lack of young
Not quite yet stark raving and crawling
Through the gentleness of suburbia’s night
Not much to fiend on for the fix
To howl at the moon
Like mad men and beat poets of generations lost
No not like that
But like the insane guitar riffing of a heavy metal hero
No sitting to contemplate life’s real great mysteries
Or the coolness of the latest jazz riff to make the rounds
But the latest video
To make the rounds of our cable and dull the senses
My senses
Brought alive once or twice by the
Scribing and wretched turmoil penned before I could write
Before I was thought of as a glimmer in some young girl’s eye
Where love and death and struggle seemed
Well, seemed important
Instead of this week’s installment of General Hospital
No, life meant a different ideal
To rail against the rise of life and steel
And the decline of hard thinking and emotional turmoil
To shape the days I remembered of 16 to move on to 17 and
25< br>26
I am sure the idea is there now for the taking
That the generation I once thought of as mine
Was really just a smoldering pot of cheap sex and nonsense
Buying into the fake and false pretenses
The buildings and life around us
The by-product of a Reagan led economic class
Upper middle class
Where all I yearned for was a small hill to look down upon
To see
To feel
The difference in what was and is
To sit and think
And be
And know that all around
All of it
Was nothing more than the wet-dream of some angry capitalist
After all
We once dreamed of locomotives and cross country travel
To then look at the dead box cars and smoke bleating engines
And the poor life around us
Choked dry and dead from the fumes of progress
To be right here
Right now
And wonder if somehow it could have been different

Submitted: Monday, April 24, 2006

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