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Unaccompanied-me — Life on a Minefield
Published: 2008-10-15 05:20:25 +0000 UTC; Views: 323; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 4
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Description
I'm throwing the pebblesat the back window
prison bars
static-electric
shocks in my iris
blacks in my eyes
rust
hacksawn
paper/iron
prison bars
black hole
somethings going somewhere
somewheres holding somethings
just condense, condense
condense me
to a crystal with the cracks
the spider cracks
the limbs divided, coruscant, dead, leaden...
easy going break me up
radio accretion at a forked cliff
breaking the body and blood
bashing the brains of this
60 mph. wind
stroke like the synagogue,
laugh like the Solomon.
Everything's a trap
And I'm uncondensing here
it's that I'm disentangling here
it's that
my bastion is a trapdoor
spider's nest become
and I'm falling, falling
fallen in love
in a black hole caress
in a repeeling home
where the coreandthebarkare
thickening
where the rind is
blacker than coal
and the key is locked in,
and at the center of the earth
in a geothermic core
in a geocentric universe-model
It's gonna eat me inside out.
It's gotta eat me inside out.
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Comments: 14
Thank you! I try to make it as raw of emotional reflection as I can, and not bind it with rhyme or structure.
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We've grown distant over the past year but I still consider you a good friend, I'm here if you need to talk. Even if its just to rant and rave.
This poem made me furrow my brow and think about all the complications that life brings up and by the end I was ready to hit something and scream. You're an incredible poet and I often envy the skill you have to generate the emotions of other people on such a primal level.
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Thank you very much Orelius. It only works though if you do what you did, which was take it and apply it to your own life. I think a poem is just a starting point for thought... It requires thought to be affected. So don't praise the poetry, praise the reader!
And it's alright; I'm (mostly) past it now. And I wouldn't say we're TOO distant... we just don't really get a chance to talk or anything anymore... time being what it is.
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the crooked path taken here makes this one fun to read
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thanks! crooked association pathways of my mind... oy.
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Yes, but these are the best pathways
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But of course! If only because they are unique and personal.
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I almost feel like I shouldn't comment. It seems so personal. I have no self control though. Just ignore me if it is.
You've got to be one of my favorite poets here. I couldn't stop reading this. Even though it is your own vent, I felt as if I could relate. There's a hopeless tone to it (or so I see; forgive me if I'm wrong) that calls to me. Once again, I'm jealous, for you're capable of saying at least some of what I wish to.
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And thank you very kindly; I can't even fathom the idea of being "one of someone's favorite poets" on here.
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You're quite welcome. I'm sure I'm not the only person who loves your work.
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It is, you got it. It's just about hopeless situations... fear, doubt, etc. Glad you liked it!
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