Boheme

Who put on that bright light?

                Turn it off!

                                Be gone with your fluorescent headaches,

                                                your neon nightmares!

                Give me something in an amber hue,

                                golden, incandescent;

                a warm, soft, diffused glow—

                                                harsh, white beams jar and alarm,

                                                                and take me out of my

                                pensive, reflective,

                                                cozy, blue-grey funk.

Who needs to be cheery all the time?

                Anyone who constantly be-bops around,

                                all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows,

                whistling a happy tune,

                                just isn’t paying attention!

                They need to wake up and

                                smell the real world,

                                                the really real world where

                                                                the Chinese curse makes its presence

                                                felt, with a vengeance,

                                every day— 

                                                                “interesting times”, indeed!

                                It’s a turbulent, complex, unfocused,

                                                unvarnished place we live in—               

                                                                hinky,

                                                                                funky,

                                                                                                gritty,

                                                                                                                snarky,

                                                                everything fresh, and nothing new.

                                                “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”?

                                                                No doubt!

So, put away the peppermints and the pastels;

                give me a break from

                                pop-heads and idiot culture;

                spare me your nouvelle vanities

                                and your neo-bourgeois pretentions

                                                while I hunt up an old, well-grooved

                                chair in a quiet corner, dimly lit;

                allow me to find something

                                good to drink,

                                                a choice morsel to eat,

                                and, possibly, some

                                                actual intelligent

                                conversation—

                                                                (now, there’s a thought!)

                                                or, better still,

                                                                give me sanctuary—

                                give me space

                                                to cogitate,

                                                                and ruminate,

                                                                                and meditate;

                                                                to theologize,

                                                                                and synthesize,

                                                                                                and philosophize;

                                                to embrace that neglected and

                                                                fading glory

                                                                                which is pure art for art’s sake;

                to let the Muse out,

                                and permit it free rein

                         that I might give vent,

                                at length, to my

                                                yearning,

                                                                searching,

                                                                                pondering,

                                                                                                wondering,

                                                convoluted,

                                                                controverted,

                                                                                                weary,

                                                                                                                bleary,

                                                                                phlegmatic,

                                                melancholic,

                                                                Bohemian soul.                                          

                                                                                        —D. W. McMillen

                                                                                        17 July 2006

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