Friday, August 22, 2003
An introspective night last night, one of those bouts of personal pain that still sneaks up on me by stealth, and too late to call anyone about it. Or maybe it's better to deal with it myself. And so I sit down, and write: time to polish at first, then later more raw, don't care, just the truth stuff. Don't worry. I'm not like this all the time.
Western haunt
A wisp of cloud
hostage to an endless sky
red earth prostrate
in supplication for rain
distant human dust trails
while watchers hide in the landscape
bitter earth indeed
but like desert weeds
it grows fast
its sands ubiquitous
the dream of open spaces
will haunt me now
Mission Bay, summer
salt sea sand
dry lips now moist
fumble
myself lumped under your jersey
anonymous to the crowd
cackling along the seawall
rocks igneous now prey
to the slow suck of the sea
later jive to the neon pull
of chips blatantly salty
can’t remember if there was a guitar
but it would have fitted
there’s always the fountain
spurting lights so magic
kids magnetised to the pool
but now a desperation
the tide relentless
your hand losing its grip on my breast
and I fall again
the lights go out
it is so
empty
Cryptic
Hollow puppet me
bobbing and grinning
“I’m OK...”
God, you almost had me convinced.
But look: there can be two (or more) versions of the truth.
You miss him.
Your soul screeches daily in pain.
You’re not even sure how you survive, day after day.
And then there’s Happy You:
no less truthful, just a little more numb.
And dumb. Perhaps.
People like happy people.
It would be OK, I guess,
if there was an alternative huggy universe:
a Mr Replacement, ready to supply all required stimulations,
even if he wasn’t the same,
at least it would be a comfort.
But even that is missing,
and friends’ ears at 2 am
do not respond fondly to phoning
now that you’re 4 months out.
Guess there’s always the desert for screaming.
Cryptic no.2
“In the desert, no one can hear you scream”
but I paraphrase the movies, or somesuch.
Kind of handy if it were true, really.
But I’m not near the desert anymore.
The sea could do as well really
gurgle gurgle gurgle
just have to be careful not to breathe in too deeply.
Calm down, I’m not suicidal
No jumping out of buildings
to end the flames of burning pain
no pyre for me yet
though sometimes I feel that little vessel
at the back of my brain
swelling, poised to pop.
I do admit though
to a certain….carelessness at times
A minor disregard for personal safety
not checking my car before I get in
forgetting the door lock
a walk in the dark
After all, I’ve seen the worst
but I guess it could still be sore.
After all, what kind of thinking is that?
Do you think it would help,
plunging yourself into darkness as well?
Let’s see… deep down you still think
you might be wrong about the afterlife,
that you still might see Him
afterwards.
Not a chance, sister.
You’re probably best sticking to the idea
that He is Within,
and getting on with it.
Piokiwi 1:45 am
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