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Open Poetry #5
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three bullets and a multivitamin
| Open Poetry #5 |
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three bullets and a multivitamin |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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-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. |
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| © Copyright 2000 MPC - All Rights Reserved | |||
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devina Member Elite
since 1999-10-28
Posts 3539Cali |
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... |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
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 |
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poetry_kills Senior Member
since 1999-12-04
Posts 549new orleans |
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 |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thanks for the kind words and the cool image. I'll have to see that movie someday. Mike |
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Echo Rhayne Senior Member
since 1999-09-17
Posts 1495Canyon Country, CA |
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^ ~*~ |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thank you. |
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Meadowmuse Member Elite
since 1999-12-27
Posts 3263 |
Okay, so when do we get to read the novel?? Loved this, want more....  Claire |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
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 |
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First__Knight Senior Member
since 1999-11-08
Posts 678 |
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 |
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PhaerieChild Senior Member
since 1999-08-30
Posts 1787Aloha, Oregon |
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 |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
I felt like reading on, but it came to an end. Nice writing Liz |
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Andrew Scott Member Elite
since 1999-06-24
Posts 2558Redlands,CA,USA |
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. |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thanks, all.Mike |
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fc Member
since 2000-01-18
Posts 130 |
this is good, really good, so many images that ring so true.....great job |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
I am very impressed with this piece of writing! It is so real and stark in imagery and feeling. Excellent!! |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Thanks, Martie. Frankly, I don't know what I was on when I wrote this -- just creativity, ah guess. She said burn ... together. |
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