Apathy My Friend
We Are Quite Indifferent
Shortest Bond Ever
Tag: poetry
Note To Self
I’m not fond of it. And it’s something I can never put my finger on. I can be having quite the innocuous day – somewhat pleasant, fairly uneventful, nothing out of the ordinary will have occurred – when I am just dealt the most sucker of punches to my emotional sternum. I feel my mental legs buckling beneath me, slipping into the wash of melancholy, muddy and oppressive.
I am hit with the Sad.
A Bushel of Blegh.
You could lay at my feet all the smiles and laughter that had just been bouncing about, deliver happy chirps of well-meaning pick-me-up cliches, wrap me in the Tomorrow Is Another Day positivity that you keep handy for occasions such as these…
They will all be shunned.
Not because I don’t want any of those and more.
Not because I enjoy the depressing descent into Debbie Downerville.
No.
I will ruin every last bit of bright and shiny you give me. I will dejectedly demolish every grin and chuckle with my clumsy clompy feet. Accidentally muffle and strangulate the once vibrant twittering of good intentions. I will shred to pieces the shawl of optimism, never a chance to warm against the shivering dankness of the dark.
I would rather you keep those bits to yourself. Keep every last piece intact. Protect each one from my awkwardly ambling slippery with the Sad self.
I may be a dumpy mess, but I am not a monster.
don’t mind me
Just ignore me
No one likes the moody woman cloaked in silence and a hard lined grimace.
You won’t ask me what’s wrong
Because you’re afraid the answer is You.
At first… No.
It isn’t.
The world in all its ignorance upsets me,
Time with its fast paced stroll
Just short of sprinting past me and my memories that are lagging behind in a different era
Yeah.
Time angers me
People in general
Not completely happy with their lives
Tolerable of their friends
Disgusted with their occupations
People … make my head hurt.
And while I am morosely curling into my shell of quiet,
You ignore me.
Content in your bubble colored oblivious
You’ll never ask me what’s wrong.
So with each passing second
It becomes
You.
The Musician
I found
old correspondence
from some years ago
between my former
self and
you,
the always on the road
wielder of stringed instrument
and debaucherous exploits
Former paramour
partner in deviance
and infatuation
What a pair…
Addicted, lustful
heathens
we were
Two moths
Two flames
Destruction was
inevitable,
Of course
But still.
Bemused, I
shook my head
Reading the
To and From
Slightly aggravated
by my own desire and loathing
Your seemingly sincere
yet
apathetic apologies
“You may be crazy, but I am weak. And that’s worse. I don’t know what else to say.”
Clearly.
Our combustion
while not spontaneous
still surprises me
Yet,
After some years
the flames
have all but turned to
simmering, dying embers
in a growing
pile of ash
which along with
the charred
and disintegrating
bits
have been
flying and
flaking
away
to somewhere
not here
But I wonder.
Nowadays,
have your messages
of remorse
to Her
Become any better
Than what they
once were?
Maybe…
you should invest
in a fire extinguisher.
The Russian
I woke up
after having seen you in my dream
I awoke
and
It was with such
longing
A desire to
really have been so close to you
sitting there
across from your open face
your crooked
happy smile
those eyes
so very nearly
gray
This wretched dream
I remembered
so much
You would leave a peck
on my cheek
while I slept
sprawled and tangled
in the sheets of your bed
Barely a stir
until
Consciousness piqued by the
smell of toast
and your favorite
ramen
I
stumbling out
into the shocking
brightness
one eye open
Your outline
fuzzy
but voice
clear
And I hear you
gentle and
sincere
“Sunshine”
*****
Those memories
brought to surface
by a ridiculous
dream
What I’d give to have kept
sleeping.
Crawlspace
with bated breath
i have waited
gave my mind to death
thoughts cremated
with eyes tight shut
i fell and fell
bruised, banged and cut
otherwise well
asleep with fists
fighting my thirsts
oh how i would miss
being this cursed
Natalie O. 2009
I will savor the taste of your lips
as though it were my last meal
I will breathe you in
as though you were my final breath
I will set aside my doubts
as though I were once again a child
I will take you completely
as though I were the only one who could have you
I will do these things
for the smallest of favors from you
Your embrace
Your stroke
Your presence
Your touch …
to have it linger from the gentle speech of your fingers
the softest echo on my skin
And when you leave
I will wait
ever patient
For the complex richness of the beautiful simplicity
that lies in the way
you make me yours.
Hello, Bukowski
There has always been something about Charles – something vulnerably depraved. An acknowledgement of one’s own vices without the saccharine syrup dripping lightly upon the tongue, prettily disguising the sour taste of truth. I can’t help but love a man who is honest to and about his self. *sigh*
Found this while reading. I usually stick with posting my own poetic musings, but how I wish, some time ago, someone would have written this for me. 🙂
when God created love He didn’t help most
when God created dogs He didn’t help dogs
when God created plants that was average
when God created hate we had a standard utility
when God created me He created me
when God created the monkey He was asleep
when God created the giraffe He was drunk
when He created narcotics He was high
and when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed
He knew what He was doing
He was drunk and He was high
and He created the mountains and the sea and fire
at the same time
He made some mistakes
but when He created you lying in bed
He came all over His Blessed Universe.
Bar America 2011
I wanted wisdom
but the filmy eyed bar woman – missing teeth… loosened flesh
gave me a beer
I tipped it back
expecting answers
none came.
Laughter
Cigarettes
Patsy Cline
huh… he likes Patsy Cline
Another bottle emptied
And Willie sings to me
from the jukebox
On the road again
It’s all so sad.
So heart-wrenchingly painful
Going places that I’ve never been
But I swig another
I dance a little
I glance at the tiny grandmother – smiling – calling me a taxi
random thought –
I was not meant for beauty
But I happened to get a taste
For a moment
Seeing things that I may never see again
And it was better than the bottle after bottle
I’ve held to my lips
A stranger pays for my cab
A friend calls me from home
A bed catches my stupor
And all I can think about
is the old woman who handed me a drink
and asked how I was doing
“I’m doing fine.”
as always.
…. And I can’t wait to get on the road again
Joe and I
7/14/07
I have these moments
I’m tempted to say yes
I know I shouldn’t
The answer should be no.
But I can’t.
The lure of contentment
starts swallowing at my feet
I am slipping in
Being enveloped by the serene
peace
Of escape
And as each powdered trail
vanishes
– oh you know –
The blurring of reality
Becomes that much more dim
And I read you my poetry
You run your fingers across my bass
Tapping lightly
Squinting against the rising
Of another sun
Discussion of past transgressions
We are falling
But sitting still
Finding ourselves
In each other
The sunlight shocks
Some semblance
of Sense
Into our Self-constructed
Clouded
Sphere
The two high school
sweethearts
Now grown
Alone
And Broken
Pain in your voice
Agony in my heart
Let’s run away again
Down
That
Fuzzy
White
Trail
But the Sun is so bright
And you start to sing
“Beautiful girl…. stay with me…”
The night was long
And fell short
I want to burn bright like the sun.
That won’t happen.
I am already a pile of ash.
But Otherwise Fine 