How to Join Member's Area Private Library Search Today's Topics p Login
Main Forums Discussion Tech Talk Mature Content Archives
   Nav Win
 Archives
 Open Poetry #5 Archive
 three bullets and a multivitamin
 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
Follow us on Facebook

 This is an Archive. You may post a reply, but new topics are not allowed.

 
User Options
Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Admin Print Send ECard
Passions in Poetry

three bullets and a multivitamin

 Post A Reply   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


0 posted 01-14-2000 01:45 AM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for bsquirrel

-three bullets and a multivitamin-
So he, being all American,
Wanted to hang himself from a tree. You see
His music wasn't settling dark spaces,
Nor even filling them. His job
Was several indifferent feelings baked
And served cold. His appearance
Was a smile hinged by wires and false light.

But he, also being a coward, couldn't
Come to the decision of where best to die.
Underneath the cypress shadows?
Near the shore which would take some driving?
In his home, so someone else could take over
His payments?

The freeway did not collect nor even sieve
His thoughts. Nor did the reflections
Pooling in vapid, rapid glass collections
Help him boil over.
He just blared the radio, felt nothing
And wondered if he should smash into the cars
In front, to the side, behind, weaving like bees;
Sting this. Honey mess all over the glassened road.

He had a raw collection of scars on his forearm.
Lazy, boring, ultimately failed razor trails.
Oh, the curse of thought, he thought,
Bathwater lapping at him and he not giving
Anything away.
Poor me, he poured.

He had many burned journals. You see, being
A coward, he routinely wanted to destroy himself,
But could never watch the fire for long
Before poking himself free with tongs.

Eventually, he sold some of his journals,
Attaching inflated importance to their flaws,
Otherwise he would not have saved them, he reasoned.

From all the burn marks, his words
Resembled poetry. Those not fooled easily
Realized he was only trafficking in
Spilled, charred ink.

Unfortunately, his mirror lied to him.
He began seeing genius in his frailness.
He surrounded himself with girlbodies
And manbodies.
He bought a pool with his newly christened pay.
The chlorine did not sting his scars.

Nobody said no as he continued
Writing nothing but nothing;
More interested in the shape of skulls
Than the contours of hearts.

After a particularly long passage
About a coal tunnel with ebony shadows
And black soot puffing from oily crevices,
He put down his pen to finish a line of coke:
This was a more expensive way to burn, yes,
But saved him the ashes on his hands
And stains like ghostly footprints on his carpet.

And he saw, collected in sunlight,
Shining on the coffee table,
Three bullets and,
Not really shining,
A multivitamin.

He was sure nothing was really on there. He reached
Out to touch the table surface,
But there wasn't even powder left in his reflection,
And he felt a pain and noticed his hand bleeding, and it looked like chocolate, not blood,
but he tasted it and it was blood, not chocolate.

How could he have cut himself? He was here in his
California stucco dream with a girl in the other room, in the bath actually, he could hear her splashing around in the bath, and oh my god, was she going to kill herself? oh my god, were the razors out? yes, he could hear her!

He jumped up. the bullets and multivitamin
fell off the glass table. He ran to the door and tried the knob. but this was not the bathroom,
this was the driveway and who had messed up His house? who had come in and moved His door?

Running down the street, he didn't even pause,
a fast moving van ended his bees' flight
and any other questions.
Hand fallen forward, down, out,
palm raised to collect the sun,
The man smiled one last smile,
Felt something warm in the back of his throat.

At last, the love I've always heard so
Much about !!! -- he pulsed in eager selfishness.

But it was not chocolate, it was not sweet, and it was only blood coming to his lips,
Staining him a boring clown face,
And the man was only dead. again.

© Copyright 2000 MPC - All Rights Reserved
devina
Member Elite
since 10-28-1999
Posts 3189
Northern Cali


1 posted 01-14-2000 02:44 AM       View Profile for devina   Email devina   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for devina

This poem has so much detail, I'm wondering is this written for someone or just imaginary???  I hope you just have a good imagination dear, but if not I'm at least hoping this isn't a true story...

 Open arms can be the most fragile in the world...
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


2 posted 01-15-2000 03:06 AM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Hi, devina. Thanks for the unintended compliment: when people can't tell if what I wrote is true or not, I know I'm doing well.   This is entirely made-up, of course. It's just my point of view on the misunderstood, romanticized fact that suffering makes great art. No, it makes great suffering. People seem to believe there's a transcendent quality to misery. And to that little lie, I blame a lot of movies peddling stereotypes as characters. It's kind of like those who believe the insane are somehow a bunch of wildly eccentric, creative people who know the truth about life. If you've ever worked in a soup kitchen, you'll realize how much BS that really is. But it's suuuuuure nice to dream.

Mike
poetry_kills
Senior Member
since 12-04-1999
Posts 552
new orleans


3 posted 01-15-2000 03:39 AM       View Profile for poetry_kills   Email poetry_kills   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit poetry_kills's Home Page   View IP for poetry_kills

this poem is disturbingly entrancing -- i love it   have you ever seen the movie The Professional?  there is a scene in the movie in which all sound is blocked out other than a symphony and a single gun shot near the end... a man (a tired, beaten man) is fleeing from his attackers and as he slowly treks from a dingy car garage toward the bright sunlight and freedom pouring in from the open wall this symphony plays... suddenly a shot comes and he slowly declines as a piano plays a declining scale and then he blacks out... THAT is the feeling i get from this poem... the feeling of a symphony playing softly along as someone's world is thrown into turmoil... the chaotic peace of the life of a madman (or at least one that fancies himself mad)... i love it...

sincerely,

 **jerome the boy whose brain got left out in the rain and nobody bothered to dry it off when they put it back in
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


4 posted 01-15-2000 03:49 AM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Thanks for the kind words and the cool image. I'll have to see that movie someday.

Mike
Echo Rhayne
Senior Member
since 09-17-99
Posts 1538
Canyon Country, CA


5 posted 01-16-2000 02:48 PM       View Profile for Echo Rhayne   Email Echo Rhayne   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Echo Rhayne

WoW!!!  Im speechless!


 ~*~ ^i^ ~*~ Love is such a lonely art, and death is but a taste. Minds are merely instruments that often go to waste! ~*~ ^i^ ~*~


bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


6 posted 01-17-2000 11:38 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Thank you.  
Meadowmuse
Member Elite
since 12-27-1999
Posts 3317


7 posted 01-18-2000 12:13 AM       View Profile for Meadowmuse   Email Meadowmuse   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Meadowmuse's Home Page   View IP for Meadowmuse

Okay, so when do we get to read the novel?? Loved this, want more....

Dear LadyClaire

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


8 posted 01-18-2000 12:25 AM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Hi, Claire. Sorry, no novel in the works. Believe me, whenever I try to go that route, I screw up around page 38. I've never completed a novel in my life. But I have many short stories, and sometimes that bleeds into my poetry. I like the short forms better -- you can say so much in so few words.

Glad you enjoyed this.

Mike
First__Knight
Senior Member
since 11-08-1999
Posts 688


9 posted 01-18-2000 01:13 AM       View Profile for First__Knight   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for First__Knight

Such strong images fly in this....Very real and life like.  You have brought the story to life in your words....more than just a story on paper here.

 Drive it like you stole it...LOL And another thing...When I rev my engine I want people to think the world is coming to a end....hehehe


PhaerieChild
Senior Member
since 08-30-99
Posts 1829
Aloha, Oregon


10 posted 01-18-2000 02:52 AM       View Profile for PhaerieChild   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for PhaerieChild

WOW!!!! Very intense!! Really felt like I was there being a part of the madness. Very well done!!

 Poetry~ Words falling on paper, painting a dream.

Shawna R. Holder
Boise, Idaho


Elizabeth Santos
Member Rara Avis
since 11-08-1999
Posts 9405
Pennsylvania


11 posted 01-18-2000 08:36 AM       View Profile for Elizabeth Santos   Email Elizabeth Santos   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Elizabeth Santos

I felt like reading on, but it came to an end.
Nice writing
Liz
Andrew Scott
Member Elite
since 06-24-99
Posts 2655
Redlands,CA,USA


12 posted 01-18-2000 12:53 PM       View Profile for Andrew Scott   Email Andrew Scott   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Andrew Scott

Top Shelf Material... very strong and full of color.  Like the style very much. You get two thumbs up and a couple of big toes too boot.
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


13 posted 01-19-2000 01:17 AM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Thanks, all.

Mike
fc
Member
since 01-18-2000
Posts 131


14 posted 01-20-2000 01:25 PM       View Profile for fc   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for fc

this is good, really good, so many images that ring so true.....great job
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 09-21-1999
Posts 28608
California


15 posted 01-20-2000 01:45 PM       View Profile for Martie   Email Martie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Martie's Home Page   View IP for Martie

I am very impressed with this piece of writing!  It is so real and stark in imagery and feeling.  Excellent!!
bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


16 posted 05-22-2002 07:19 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Thanks, Martie. Frankly, I don't know what I was on when I wrote this -- just creativity, ah guess.

She said burn ... together.
-TON

 
 Post A Reply   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
All times are ET (US) Top
  User Options
>> Archives >> Open Poetry #5 >> three bullets and a multivitamin Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Print Send ECard

 

pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Today's Topics | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary



© Passions in Poetry and netpoets.com 1998-2013
All Poetry and Prose is copyrighted by the individual authors