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the cry of alone
| Open Poetry #8 |
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the cry of alone |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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Wake up. It's 9:30 Saturday morning. Fresh battery alarm. You bought the batteries yesterday, alone, And wondered wistfully about the cashier's smile. It's 9:30 Saturday morning. As a kid, you'd be in front of the TV -- Listening to its words, drinking its pictures. Your parents in the kitchen drinking your laughter. It's 9:30 a.m. Wake up. You went to bed at 11:30 the previous night. Nobody said goodnight. Is that right? Another missed chance for you, lying on the bed, Filling the room with empty sounds; Not all seeds are meant to be planted -- Just to die under fluorescents, Deepen your senses. Wake up. There is nobody in bed with you. In fact, the bed isn't big enough. In fact, the bed is a mattress on the floor. And not that it matters, but You have a real bed on order. Air-conditioned cold on your face. Pretend for a moment that's your lover. Pretend, for a moment, She wants you to be happy. But it's so cold. She's so cold. Like I said, she loves you. Hurry! Wake up. There's a package. You can wait in line to receive it -- CDs pressed with songs that ache. But you know the truth: These guys still have more fun than you. Wake up. There's a chalk art festival This morning in Pasadena. Stand looking at sidewalk landscapes, Trying not to notice the couples in love and flux. Wake up. It's time for breakfast. Girls are impressed when a guy can cook. You can be consoled in that When the only conversation is eggs and juice. Easy. Don't put the glass down so hard. It's now 10:05 in the morning. The day awaits your next move. - Kate, Rebecca, Kim, Lori, June, Georgia, Bobbi. Wanda, Terri, Julie, Kelly, Veronica and Heidi. Jackie, Andy, Penelope, Mindy, Sally, Em and Dawn. There's so many girls in this world, Can't I meet just one? Can't I fall in love? Can't they love me too? Can't I just have one person Say to me "I love you"? Then f___ you. - Out of love. Out of joy. Out of hate. Out of toys. Out of rope. Out of hope. Out of bullets. Out of soap. Out of tears. Out of fears. Out of feeling free for years. Out of step. Out of money to buy anything else. Out of sodium pentathol on the shelf. Out of walls to punch holes in and shove. Out of fists to make and shake above. Out of promises to break. Out of imagination jumping states. Out of lonely feelings that can still be defined. Out of anything that's kind; out of time to unwind. Do you mind? I'm trying to find a way through the haze. I'm trying to tear down this maze. I'm amazed at the color of its walls. You'll find out yourself when you fall, fall, fall, fall. - Soldier in a strange land. Armied and well-prepared for the worst. Things are so different here -- Never seen a tree like that before. Soldier in a strange land Sipping from his canteen -- The same color of darkened green As he believes the color of the unseen. Boom! Sudden heat, shaking, glass Thrown straight into his face. Funny, how plate glass Has a way of flying away. Down on the ground in a strange land. The Jeep pinned over him, his friends disappeared. Yelling, shouting, rat-atat-tat. Muted in his ears. Stranger in a fallen land. He followed his orders to the end. Their flaming points of words his mission; His mind-honed, truest friends. A mother's words can't resurrect him. The lips of his girlfriend on his adds to the grief. A friend's so-long pat on the shoulder (his skin so cold, a frosty boulder) Can't bring him from beneath. His eyes are open behind his lids, but blind. His face is relaxed, seeming asleep, but he is not calm or breathing. His suit was meant for a marriage bed, not this goodbye tomb. So much loss it energizes the despair in this room. His face will never be lined with age. His hair will never grow out, become gray. He will never have a family as planned. His future now is sand. How could this happen? Who can we blame, on what throne? Why did this happen? Why must we die alone? - Did you see her last night at the club? She was listening to him. Did you see her later on at the poetry reading? She was staring at him. Last week, wasn't she at the museum? She was holding hands with him. And before that, while out at the restaurant? She was eating with him. At the library, alone by the window? She was reading to him. Inside her journal, moon over her bed? She was writing to him. On the phone, talking to friends? She was thinking of him. Glass flute to her lips, sipping sweetened wine? She was drinking him. Saying in whispers her secret things? She was praying to him. Under the sheets, eyes closed, colors? She was f___ing him. Falling afterward deeply in sleep? She was dreaming of him. Awaking in sweat, heat in her face? She was afraid of him. Silently staring as he lay near her? She was in awe of him. Down at the beach, watching him build castles? She was in love with him. Tears in her eyes as she felt so happy? She was sad for him. Along with the radio, humming tuned thoughts? She was singing to him. Outside in the dirt, lusting his shadow? She was lost in him. At the aquarium, watching jellyfish float? She was swimming with him. At church, watching his lips as he took the wafer? She was sighing for him. Two weeks later, under feather-damp sheets, She broke up with him. - watching color come into the sky. stars slowly fade into clouds. all night, these silent giants dragged their forms over us. i sit behind my green half-cage sipping at water with the ice now melt. none of their voices left in my cup. no voices at all, you f___. white cat stops over, mews, sees i have no food, leaves. inside, the telephone begins ringing. slowly, the background becomes colored with leaves. to the right, the trees speak softly. ants glide over the ground; birds crawl like morning into the sky. i want to close my eyes. - I'm attached; ever have that problem? Spring is an expert on infidelity. Color darkens, stirred constantly. Nobody would miss the sound of my voice. The three parts of love: Attractions, trust, mistakes. Fighting breaks your spirit. Salt your tears to taste. Light, space and lifted bottles. Drinking on Tampa near Braemar. Looking over all the Valley At the ravished heart of god. I remember she thought he was proposing; He was just tying his shoe. To celebrate, they screwed. Another summer night without you. I never thought I'd witness the fall. It was over so fast. All the leaves fell, torn from the book Of a coldness that lasts. Just like stone: solemn, unalive. The winter came without forgiveness. Where were you when I needed you, the song goes. When will I outgrow this sickness? - Dress is something I do in the morning, after my shower. Nails are metal shapes driven through wood for fastening purposes. A hair dryer is something I pass by at Target while looking over CDs. Make up is when I lie for whomever's benefit to please. Breasts are something I buy in family pack size at the supermarket, To eat with a sprig of parsley, some mushroom sauce. Sex is the delineation between male and female. Love is four letters stamped on a card. Night is made for tomorrow's unfounded hopes. - I want to wrap the forest in blue lights. But you don't understand that, do you? To you, it's not right. I want to carve smiles into all the hills. But it would distract your driving -- The distraction would kill. I want to drop confetti over the sea's face. But you still don't understand; Think I'm a disgrace. I want to topple down all the churches and schools. You would put me in jail, Calling me a fool. I want to make love under starlight's sight. You'd tell me to cover up; It's too cold a night. I want to sing notes I can't even reach. You'd tell me to be serious, Stop being a leach. I want to dance with the woman Who holds her hands above the weeds. That's just stupid fantasy, you say; Don't you have any normal needs? I want to open my doors To anyone at all. -Ha! If you want to clean up The graffiti on the wall. I want to write a poem That ends in joy. -You call yourself a man? You're just a stupid boy. I want to find someone Who'll make me feel at home. -You don't understand, do you? The cry of alone. The cry of alone? I don't understand the cry of alone? Every closed door. Every whore I can't afford. Every broken board a girl's not telling me to fix. Every sunrise alone. Every sunset at home Wanting to explain the colors to others not there. Every seascape seen. Every broken dream. Everyday friends moving in with somebody else. Every window shut. Every empty rut When I feel my poetry isn't worth the paper trees felled and cut. Every phone call. Every plastered wall. Every outside light. Every cold night. Every warm day. Every chance to play. Every song not sung. Every splintered rung. Every cloud above. Every imagined dove. Please, my love, I don't understand? -Ha! You think love is all that's needed. I've been busy chopping at the weeds. I've learned again and again that the crumbled foundation Sure is sparkly, but also a deceit. -Do you believe love is all we need? What would you put in your mouth to feed? Nothing? Good, go ahead, starve. Sit on your bed looking at rainbows. -Do you think loneliness is not our natural state? Then why are we so fascinated with hate? Why do we always try to run away? Love is but a quick decay. -Every smile, I see more of your skull. Every hug, I can feel the closeness of your bones. Every kiss, I know your breath won't last forever. Every diamond's symmetrical tear will outlast us and our coffins. -So go ahead and live your crazy dreams. Just don't be surprised when it falls apart. Just don't be surprised with your broken heart. It's our natural state -- what a wonderful start. You're wrong! You're wrong. I know you're wrong. I just don't know what to say. - Wake up. It's 10:05 Saturday night. What can you say to make that untrue? You've slept through another day alone. Boo hoo. Wake up. It's 1:49 Sunday afternoon. While you were in bed, the dishes were in the sink. You can look forward to your reflection in their grease. There's a link. Wake up. It's 10:50 Friday night. You just slept through an entire week. Off to work, mouth open close shut open. The pay was small; your suit was creased. Wake up. You just broke your first window. Wake up. You just smashed your dishes to the floor. Wake up. The computer erased your hard work. Wake up. Why do woman find you such a bore? Self-pity, it's a crazy game. Self-regard, it's another shame. Self-esteem, poor substitute for fame. Self-love, another broken frame. Pop goes another dream. Makes you want to scream. Quick! Off to church. You need more quick-fix solace. Quick! Off to school. You need more quick-fix dollars. Quick! Off to war. You need more quick-fix action. Quick! Off to the grocery store. You need more batteries. You need more q-tips. You need more kleenex. You need more motor oil. You need … more. - (stop crying alone. it's not as bad as all that. stop feeling so down. stop feeling so flat. stop crying alone. you'll find someone soon. find the right one, it's guaranteed you'll make her swoon. stop crying alone. there's plenty more thrill. you'll find her, you'll see. no, really. no, really. no, really. no, really, no really, no really no really noreallynoreallynoreallynorillynorillynorillee you will.) [This message has been edited by bsquirrel (edited 07-09-2000).] |
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Jamie Member Elite
since 2000-06-26
Posts 3168Blue Heaven |
Wow! Maybe later I will be able to speak. But not now. maybe later. for now. Wow Jamie Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito. - Virgil. "Yield thou not to adversity, but press on the more bravely". |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
your not crying alone at the moment ... this breaks my heart Mike,(really).... but since the point of poetry is to evoke emotion... then you should know this one surely does that.. I hope it was healing in some way for you to work thru all this... I will avoid the temptation of giving advice... theres nothing Im gonna say that you dont already know anyway ... we've all been here, will ya believe me when tell ya ...it does get better... i wouldnt lie to ya baby .. butterfly slippers dont lie later-poet-gator me -------------- Just like stone: solemn, unalive. The winter came without forgiveness. Where were you when I needed you, the song goes. When will I outgrow this sickness? - Dress is something I do in the morning, after my shower. Nails are metal shapes driven through wood for fastening purposes. A hair dryer is something I pass by at Target while looking over CDs. Make up is when I lie for whomever's benefit to please. Breasts are something I buy in family pack size at the supermarket, To eat with a sprig of parsley, some mushroom sauce. Sex is the delineation between male and female. Love is four letters stamped on a card. Night is made for tomorrow's unfounded hopes. I want to wrap the forest in blue lights. But you don't understand that, do you? To you, it's not right. ---------------------- Every window shut. Every empty rut When I feel my poetry isn't worth the paper trees felled and cut. ------------------- Self-pity, it's a crazy game. Self-regard, it's another shame. Self-esteem, poor substitute for fame. Self-love, another broken frame ------------------- I think I could need - this in my life If you're gone - baby you need to come home there's a little bit of something me In everything in you MB20 |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Mike--I have felt similar feelings and tried to write the futility down...and didn't...not like this...I can hear you reading this...in some dark candle lit corner in front of a crowd of people thinking, wow! I like seeing your picture! |
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Kit McCallum
Administrator
Member Laureate
since 2000-04-30
Posts 14774Ontario, Canada |
"... You need more q-tips. You need more kleenex. You need more motor oil. You need … more." Out of this incredibly heartwrenching poem Mike, I seemed to come back and focus on this small piece above, where you said: "You need ... more". I think we all need more ... more answers, more love, more sympathy, more understanding, and certainly, more hugs. Wonderful outpouring of sentiments to paper Mike (and it "IS" worth the paper for trees felled and cut  )Best wishes and HUGS for a better week ahead Mike /Kit [This message has been edited by Kit McCallum (edited 07-09-2000).] |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Before I even start, let me say this--I LOVE YOUR FACE...kisses on my screen, Mike... and wow o wow...I don't really know where to begin...I have often wished I had a "thought-recorder" and now I feel like I have just read a transcript of yours...this is pure art, and I don't know if that is a consolation or not...in awe at the sheer magnitude of this piece. And I can't help but add--a Hug, a Smile, and an Are-ya-okay, love to you. |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Mike, I can only stand in silent salute. This is the reason for poetry. You have done the craft proud. |
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Lady Web Member
since 2000-04-12
Posts 96Houston, Texas |
Very nice Some are surrounded by so many, yet remain alone. Alone with so much to express.... I'm glad you found an outlet So lay your mind to rest |
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Eloise Senior Member
since 1999-11-27
Posts 1096Wyoming |
Wow. what a great piece you have penned here! So many thoughts all wrapped into a great poem. |
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Butterflies_dont_cry Member Elite
since 2000-03-06
Posts 3733Michigan |
Mike, This is some of the most powerful work I have ever seen, I'm amazed at the detail and work that you put into this!! Great work and deep emotion~ |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Prometheus, Speechless is good. Butterfly Slippers, I'm not worried -- well, okay, just a little. :/ I wrote this after realizing one of my better friends was moving into a house with her fiancee soon. She was telling me about how during lunch they went and bought a vaccuum cleaner. For some reason, that got me really down. So I told her I'd write a 10-page, be-all-end-all poem about loneliness and have it for her on Monday. This thing took two days to write ... and it came out better than I thought. Years from now, hopefully, I'll be able to look back at this, not experience this. Martie, Thanks. Now I just need to FIND a coffeehouse/bookstore that allows poets to read a 10-page poem. Kit, I've always wanted to include a piece of shopping list in a poem -- I think lists like that really show who the person is. I'm not saying that's my list exactly (what would I eat?); it's been tweeked a little for dramatic purposes. And I didn't realize it when I first copied this thing to the forum -- the poem lost its four line spaces between You need ... and more. Oh well. serenity, Ha ha ha! Jeez, you got me laughing out loud with your little remark. Now I can go through life saying my face is serenity-approved!Balladeer, Thank you. Lady Web, And thanks to you, too. I truly do believe that our natural state is alone ... but people just loooove to fight nature. That's why we're all so miserable.  Eloise, Merci. B_d_c, Thank you. This is the hardest I've worked on a poem in a long time. I appreciate your response. Mike |
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