you told me your world was dark
and that there was no reason
logical or otherwise
to remain in such a cold place.
you told me about overdosing
and your rapport with cheap vodka
you told me
like i didn’t believe you.
i believe you.
but that’s not the point
that’s neither here
nor there
you see, i don’t want you to go
though i know you can
i know you can.
simply disappear
from me
as quickly as you appeared.
i haven’t heard from you in months
and suddenly: a call
to tell me
you feel like dying
really really dying.
no, you’re not feeling
awful
and simply being liberal with words
the way a dramatist puts on
too much make-up
no, i believe you.
you mean dying
as in to stop trying and
to stop breathing and
to stop caring and to stop seeing
just to end
completely.
yes, i believe you.
there’s no doubt about that
but that’s not the point
that’s neither here
nor there.
i don’t want you to go
i like you too much and i
love you too much
i said it
whether or not you believe me
i guess is and is not the point.
i want you to understand
your absence would
shake everything
though you think it won’t
believe me, it would.
no, you’re not an ugly person
as much as you would like to believe so
i don’t believe you’re ugly
and that’s the point
you see?
i want you to stop thinking about dying.
i want you to stop trying to find reasons
for why you’re not worth
having around.
you’re so beautiful to me
and i don’t believe
i could handle you leaving
willingly.
i hold out hope
that you’ll find something to live for
because
believe it or not
life can be great
and after all, death will always be there
and it can wait.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
bits and pieces
transcribed from writing sessions here in Bear Brook Park, New Hampshire
this first piece was inspired by one line written by another person in the writers group. His line was as follows:
"deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden"!
Her body did a bad job of convincing me of this but her mouth moved all the same. Her mouth always moved whether or not the rest of her believed it. She swung around the pole a few times before running it between her lyrical legs, all the while her thighs and hips, torso and lips pulsing the same tired rhyme, "deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden". I could feel her on the tips of my fingers. I wanted to lick them right there, in the club if only it weren't for that piece of yellow iron, that gold strangle hold bound in holy matrimony. i reached out to her and slipped a dirty dollar bill into her G-string. Her look set deep into mine, pleading, "deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden". I picked up my beer and took a long swig and mouthed the words, "I love you" but my mouth was doing a bad job of convincing my heart. But it didn't matter so long as we said what needed to be said, who cared if neither one of us believed it?
this next exercise another writer wrote 10 verbs and 10 nouns and and from those words we were supposed to make up a story or a poem. my words were: splash, swim, watch, rescue, save, sit, bathe, scan, dive, stand, pane, shadow, apple, person, wind, leaf, hair, dog, water, bridge.
i was swimming in shadows, standing behind spider-web panes of glass the day i saved a person. well, it was you but i've dived into bridges blazing when i said your name before. i don't think i can sit through death again. so i will call you person, a supple apple scenteed wind sweeping across questionable corners of my mind. do you remember bathing in sunlit water cutting leaf shaped patterns on the surface? remember when you rescued the dog from mean Mr. Mulligan? i can still feel your hair splashing across my face, in the water where i wanted you to save me, where i lost my life, that very first time.
for this final exercise, everyone was asked to bring an object that was important to them and we handed the objects around and wrote whatever we felt about them. here are a few of my pieces:
listening to ralph's music:
there is something very comforting about this, falling asleep against you. perhaps its because you're bigger than me and are swaying me like my mother used to. i feel so comfortable, but i can't say safe. this is so new. i'm trying to trust it but my mind tracks back to what i already know. i'm having a hard time giving you space to write anew on me. but i have to admit i like your style. i like your style. it's edgy and seemingly disjointed. in my paisly world this is a bit disconcerting but i like the depth and color you bring. i think i could get used to living beside you, falling asleep against you. i'm drawn up in your rhythm. it's intoxicating. this is unended, unending...
marko's stone:
i've been cared for, you can tell. i have been held and stroked and stared at lovingly. i have been clutched tight in warm fists and rubbed across equally smooth surfaces. i'm not timid or shy. iu know i'm radiant, i am so calm. i love the attention. each loving caress brings me closer to perfection, smoothing any rough edges. some may call me a rock, but you know i'm a human heart. a human heart, that's why your heart taps timidly at your chest. don't be scared, its okay to love and not understand why.
those are just a few projects that i've done here. i love these writing workshops because it gets me thinking in new and creative ways. i feel my writers voice maturing. and it is so awesome and beautiful. i see, in part, why i am here :)
this first piece was inspired by one line written by another person in the writers group. His line was as follows:
"deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden"!
Her body did a bad job of convincing me of this but her mouth moved all the same. Her mouth always moved whether or not the rest of her believed it. She swung around the pole a few times before running it between her lyrical legs, all the while her thighs and hips, torso and lips pulsing the same tired rhyme, "deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden". I could feel her on the tips of my fingers. I wanted to lick them right there, in the club if only it weren't for that piece of yellow iron, that gold strangle hold bound in holy matrimony. i reached out to her and slipped a dirty dollar bill into her G-string. Her look set deep into mine, pleading, "deny me, supply me, but don't try to hide me, cause i am golden". I picked up my beer and took a long swig and mouthed the words, "I love you" but my mouth was doing a bad job of convincing my heart. But it didn't matter so long as we said what needed to be said, who cared if neither one of us believed it?
this next exercise another writer wrote 10 verbs and 10 nouns and and from those words we were supposed to make up a story or a poem. my words were: splash, swim, watch, rescue, save, sit, bathe, scan, dive, stand, pane, shadow, apple, person, wind, leaf, hair, dog, water, bridge.
i was swimming in shadows, standing behind spider-web panes of glass the day i saved a person. well, it was you but i've dived into bridges blazing when i said your name before. i don't think i can sit through death again. so i will call you person, a supple apple scenteed wind sweeping across questionable corners of my mind. do you remember bathing in sunlit water cutting leaf shaped patterns on the surface? remember when you rescued the dog from mean Mr. Mulligan? i can still feel your hair splashing across my face, in the water where i wanted you to save me, where i lost my life, that very first time.
for this final exercise, everyone was asked to bring an object that was important to them and we handed the objects around and wrote whatever we felt about them. here are a few of my pieces:
listening to ralph's music:
there is something very comforting about this, falling asleep against you. perhaps its because you're bigger than me and are swaying me like my mother used to. i feel so comfortable, but i can't say safe. this is so new. i'm trying to trust it but my mind tracks back to what i already know. i'm having a hard time giving you space to write anew on me. but i have to admit i like your style. i like your style. it's edgy and seemingly disjointed. in my paisly world this is a bit disconcerting but i like the depth and color you bring. i think i could get used to living beside you, falling asleep against you. i'm drawn up in your rhythm. it's intoxicating. this is unended, unending...
marko's stone:
i've been cared for, you can tell. i have been held and stroked and stared at lovingly. i have been clutched tight in warm fists and rubbed across equally smooth surfaces. i'm not timid or shy. iu know i'm radiant, i am so calm. i love the attention. each loving caress brings me closer to perfection, smoothing any rough edges. some may call me a rock, but you know i'm a human heart. a human heart, that's why your heart taps timidly at your chest. don't be scared, its okay to love and not understand why.
those are just a few projects that i've done here. i love these writing workshops because it gets me thinking in new and creative ways. i feel my writers voice maturing. and it is so awesome and beautiful. i see, in part, why i am here :)
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