Day/Night (Multi-part, long)

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by BelovedDreamer, Nov 19, 2006.

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  1. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    Day: Part I

    I’m not writing anymore.
    It all sounds the same.
    Territory I’ve seen before
    And I’ll see again tomorrow.
    Nothing changes
    Even when it seems
    That nothing stays,
    That nothing stays the same.
    There is no point anyway
    No one reads poetry anymore
    There’s no fame
    Waiting at the end of a sonnet.
    I sit in this classroom
    Swallow my education like dry bread
    Sit here and mourn for these students
    Glazed eyes, numb minds
    The living dead.
    Gape at how we abuse
    And misconstrue
    The simplest points of each other’s souls
    How the very good
    And the very kind
    Can fall behind
    Sacrificed to confusion
    Or the good of the whole.
    I hum a Carole King song to myself
    And wonder how the meaning
    Of such a small thing
    Could have gotten so lost.
    How my heart could so outweigh my mind
    That I failed to measure the cost
    Or watch where I stepped.
    And now it’s too late
    I’ve thrown myself over the edge
    And into space.
    It still holds true though
    No matter the time
    No matter the place
    Just call out my name
    And wherever I am
    I’ll come running
    To see you again.

    Day: Part II

    I sit at a desk
    In a little office
    On a short Green street
    And ponder permanence.
    Looking at my hands
    And my lily-white arms
    At the fingers so brutal
    In their miniature charm
    amazed at how things
    can change while you sleep
    Shift without notice, like sand,
    beneath feet.
    How a month or a moment
    Can cause irreparable harm
    Or shake you from a crowning seat
    To sit like a jester
    At another’s feet
    Waiting to catch your breath.
    Waiting to catch your death.
    I try to collect
    My embattled personality
    Placing one foot in front of another
    Wondering if I’ll ever be free
    Or if this will hover
    Limp and cloying
    Over the rest of my days.

    Night: Part I

    Standing with my feet
    Huddled deep
    In winter boots
    Waiting for the snow
    Trying to drag my spirits
    Hangin’ so low—
    Scraping the street—
    Up from where they hang,
    Pull my self together
    So I can earn my keep.
    See if I can’t find the roots
    That prompt my restless sleep
    And wake me in the night
    To wander here with shuffling steps
    Looking hopelessly
    For a world I’ve left.

    Day: Part III

    An oversized word
    To ask if I am real.
    A ridiculous question
    In this theater of the absurd.
    I simply don’t know.
    You tell me.
    And don’t you dare say
    We reap what we sow.
    This is not what I planted
    Or wanted to grow.

    Night: Part II

    This was another of those days
    In which I failed to inhabit myself
    Just watched the battle unfold
    Staring through the window
    Like Tiny Tim
    left out in the cold.
    My arm is swollen
    From damage inflicted
    A choke chain outlined in flesh
    The scars are old
    But the bruises are fresh.
    After all is done
    The loneliness continues unabated
    The silence is weighted
    Slow moving and thick with purpose
    Swallowing my body desecrated
    As I move towards incoherence.
    I believe suicide is the most practical
    Of all decisions.
    I promised God
    Or whoever it is who listens when I pray
    That I’d put the knife away
    But I didn’t say I’d stay.

    Night: Part III

    What’s it matter?
    It doesn’t.
    No one will admit that
    But it’s true.
    It’ll make a difference to you
    And I’m sorry
    But you’re gonna go someday too
    And so on
    And so forth.
    This whole madness is a farce.
    I suppose by the same logic
    I might as well live
    And saying I don’t want it
    Even a little
    Would be a bit of a fib.
    I’m curious
    But curiosity
    Isn’t worth this.
    And I’m getting increasingly trite
    Being sloppy with my words
    So I’ll stop for the night.
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 19, 2006
  2. Please don't stop - reading your words is like looking into a mirror. They're things I don't like to see - but someone else knows they're real. Do you understand? I think you do...

  3. Flatliner

    Flatliner Guest

    Dark yet beautiful. A lilting edge to it that rolls off the tongue. I think it's very good and it presents an image we all understand and know.
  4. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    Dearly Beloved;

    Please don't stop - breathing or writing, I like them both in you.:smile: You've got so many of our feelings here dead on, we just can't express them like you do so well, so incredibly well.:eek:hmy:

    Keep writing, please. Keep sharing with us. I am grateful that you do.


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