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For Him, For Her

I will name a star in the remote reaches of the Lost Galaxy
for my father who sits alone in his study playing chess
and celestial dice, whilst perfecting his old mystic’s hunch.

But this will be as nothing, when compared to my planet-sized
generosity towards my children who are not yet born.
For them, I will buy ten acres of lunar dust on the light side of the moon.

And for my children’s children, I will buy the rocky plains of Venus,
and when I am done with buying planets, I will buy race horses
and golden hollow heart necklaces for the ladies of solitude.

And for the memory of dead lovers, I will buy ice-bergs and deserts,
unfathomable gifts for the unravelling of time, where the phantasms
in the brain wreak havoc over the hearts and minds of the living man.

And for my only godchild, I will buy a dolly and for his mother,
I will buy a long lost title of a long dead royal, and for the brave man
and the fool, there will be golden tokens placed on their eyes when they sleep.

For the newly weds down the lane, I will buy vintage champagne,
and for the maids in the grand hotel, they shall have roses in their bowers
and bathe in the milk of does before the hotel manager and the Pope.

And last of all - and just for you - I will ignore the shrieks in the Sultan’s harems,
and the horn that would sound the end of time, and I will buy
the Rubaiyate of Omar Khayyam, and we will learn to live ungodly lives.

Dear Marcan ~

It's still rather early here and reading your writing was a gentle, reflective way of piqueing my imagination into the worlds of others. The result was warming; and because I hardly know where to begin with all the thoughts and phrasings that made it so, I'll simply say thank you for sharing your noble poem and beautiful imagery. I felt pulled along by golden threads and rays of light. I love the tribute to your father.


~ Lizzy

My introduction to Kayyam was a recent occurance, and, man, I ate that stuff up. A hedonist occupies my heart now and then too.

I really like how you go back and forth between things like star dust and toys, galaxies and milk. You push and pull it around in a way that makes me think of one of those whistling toys on a string that you circle around above your head. Not your intention, I know, but I like to think divergently.

This also reminded me of a song (and I've been thinking of this song again just recently) that a friend of mine made up in the 90s. I'll just give you snipets.

...when I get some money
then I'll buy the company
...then I'm gonna run for dictator
of the country
and then I'll buy the sun
...I'd be a really nice dictator

Look out boys, here he comes
loaded with dough
He'll buy the sun and kill the world
with evil fun.



Really fun to read you.