Joseph DeMarco was born in New York City; he lived most of his life in Buffalo, NY. He now teaches seventh grade on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. He is the author of the novels Plague of the Invigilare, The 4 Hundred and 20 Assassins of Emir Abdullah-Harazins, At Play in the Killing Fields, Blind Savior, False Prophet, Vegans Are Tastier and The 4 Hundred and 20 Assassins: Green Mourning. He is ... more »
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Joseph DeMarco Poems
The Persistence of Memory
We all hear the internal clock ticking, A self-contained Doomsday device, Melting like a candle in the desert heat
St. Valentine's Day Massacre
I climbed to the top of the clock tower, With the wind lightly at my back. I positioned myself ever so slightly, And got ready to attack.
Dancing with Dragonflies
Flip-pity fly, Swoop-pity sail Catch a dragonfly By the tail
Huckleberry Finn's Raft
“Huckleberry Finn, a shaman, the Lizard King and me…were floating on a raft down the Mississippi, ” Siann heard Joe Kaye announce, as if he were a narrator in a play. Siann felt like she was the audience, but there was no stage, they were really on a raft. And there was really a black medicine man with white face paint and hoops through his nose. There was really a guy who looked like Jim Morrison with a beard and a large gut, and there was a dirty little boy in overalls with no shirt, and well, of course, there was the False Prophet of Fennimore Place: Joe Kaye. It seemed to Siann that she was invisible to the other four members, as they paid no attention to her. They (Huckleberry Finn, the shaman, the Lizard King and Joe Kaye) seemed to be involved in a strange discussion. “The soul is not whole, the secret’s been stole, ” Jim said in a voice that was quintessential Morrison. The raft floated through an eerie, ominous fog that engulfed them in a mist. In the middle of the raft on the ground in the center of the four of them, was a large, circular, silver disc. There were several trinkets, a glass statue, and several shiny objects lying on top of the large disc. Joe Kaye spun the disc; as it moved it glinted in what little light the fog allowed.
The Forgetful Fisherman
The forgetful fisherman was as wise as he was forgetful. Some even said that he used to be a Zen Master, but that was along time ago and he had forgotten about that. Early one morning a little boy approached the fisherman asking him for advice.
In the land of the lost They dug up a book of magic spells today No one had seen spells like this before Some of them were extremely weird
Still Life with the Lorax
The Lorax is on top, I wish it would stop. All these bad and good memories, of me and you.
The Browns' Dinner Party
The Browns were a family. They were, more especially, a family of bears. They were not a big family. There were three brown bears. There was Momma Bear, Daddy Bear, and Junior Bear. They were not your normal bears either. They were sort of like the kind of bears you read about in children’s books, who wear clothes and go shopping or throw dinner parties. They didn’t live in a cave either. They lived in a house on the edge of the woods. One Saturday, the Browns (mostly Momma Brown Bear) thought it would be great to have company over for since Junior had been born, they had had to cut back on going out and having parties. The Browns invited three couples over that night. Mrs. Brown Bear was very excited while preparing the feast. “What’re we having? ” Junior Brown Bear asked, sticking his wet nose into the oven.
Mother Culture's Lullabye - The Culling ...
She sings to us, Even when we hear no sound, Especially when our eyes are closed.
Extinction is Forever
Anthropologist: (Vlad Vittorio) : 99.99% of species go extinct. It is evident to most scientists that all complex large organisms on a long enough timeline will go extinct. Humans are, of course, no exception. The woolly mammoth is something of an anomaly, in that it went extinct then made a brief but miraculous resurrection from the bowels of extinction. They are all once again extinct. Sunday - 06/22/2049 8: 43AM - The door to a vehicle slams; there is the sound of plastic clomping against concrete. Leaning long and stretched like two skeleton stick figures on the concrete are the shadows of two Homo sapiens, one adult, one child; the adult appears to be holding the camera. We move forward with no commentary and no indication of who is filming. Past parked vehicles new and used, battered and shiny. The vehicles are all neatly lined up in rows. This parking area goes on as far as the eye can see. The group of two squeezes between two parked vehicles and is crossing a field. Around the field is a track and many Homo sapiens are out for a leisurely jog. They cut diagonally across the field, as you hear the trumpet of an elephant in the distance. The group of two appears to be on some sort of walkway made of slabs of gray concrete. The camera zooms out and one can see a rather large crowd of Homo sapiens. What they lack in speed, they make up in numbers. Because of the three-dimensional holographic image, they are all around you, all walking in the same direction, the way birds flock to migrate and the way fish swim in a school. A branch breaks out to the left and crosses the roadway. They dart between moving vehicles, heads down, scrambling. An angry Homo sapiens from inside the vehicle presses his horn in aggravation at having to slow down. Most of these Homo sapiens are bundled up in attire that covers most of their body but they are moving in a herd-like fashion toward some final goal, some final destination. Although there are a lot of adults, one can't help but note the abundance of the brood. Homo sapiens children are everywhere, crawling, climbing; some are running free, chasing birds; a few have looks of fear on their faces and clutch little fake cloth animals. A lot of the offspring, however, are being pushed in wheeled strollers.
The Lizard King has taken up refuge in my Subconscious The spell has been cast I defecate on sacred ground
“Those who don't know their history Are condemned to repeat themselves.” For we are reincarnation's red-headed step child Beaten by the wicked path,
I am reminded of the atheist who died. Or rather was presumably pronounced dead for a short period of time, then revived. Upon waking, the atheist announced that he had gone down the tunnel of white light, had seen his dead relatives and in fact met God. He must have forgotten he didn’t believe in God. Together, perhaps in a city in the clouds or the clouded foggy afterlife, God conversed with the atheist. A crowd of people had gathered to hear what God had said.
I Met A Young Girl, She Gave Me A Rainbo...
blAck pearls and broken ocean sHells
Comments about Joseph DeMarco
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Persistence of Memory
We all hear the internal clock ticking,
A self-contained Doomsday device,
Melting like a candle in the desert heat
Shaded by our consciousness,
We try to ignore the Fun House mirrors
That manipulate our memory.
Our minds as flat as pancakes
Are screaming for persistence
And there's something that looks slightly like a deflated goose on the sand.
Our memories are not real
They happen to be past-tense fantasies
Reality souped-up on steroids
Hounding us like a dog
we bargain with memory
and give in to its demands.