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chloroform jesus christ
| Open Poetry #7 |
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chloroform jesus christ |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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The shallowness was eating his soul. Every day a new loin to lay seed, plow, leave. Every day a new song to record, get laid, paid. The man who liked the sick-sweet smell of chloroform on his pillow So he could finally fall dead into sleep. Old wooden crucifix on the wall all hazy as he lost it -- Pewter christ staring at him with finely chiseled pewter features. He felt something inside him roll -- something breaking through the sutures He had stitched up with lust to hide away his passions. He could never show it. He could never know it. He could never blow it As long as the steady stream of sick-sweet liquor lacquered his throat, Made him cough out mass-produced words for a mass-dead consciousness. You are dead, his chloroform savior informed him. I saved you a special spot to work it out. |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
I read this 5 times. All I could think of to offer was we have so much to dull the pain, so much to kill the senses, everywhere, it's everywhere, from drugs to alcohol, to desynthesize and yet when Christ was offered hyssop to ease the pain he refused. in the grossness of agony, the pain also desynthesizes.....but we don't let it do we? we don't carry the pain, we internalize it further trying to escape. I've done this. I never had the courage to write it down as you did. Kathleen |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Kathleen, Thank you for your personal, intelligent, questioning reply. The poem above, to me, is about how many entertainers take drugs and have severe personal problems they want to escape from. It seems schizophrenic to me how people can pour out so much love and receive so much of it, but then feel so empty the only way to have fun/get away is to screw with chemicals. For some, faith is a wonderful grounder, and gives a sense of peace. Others never find what they need to feel like they can stop roving and settle down. It all catches up in the end. Mike |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
He felt something inside him roll -- something breaking through the sutures He had stitched up with lust to hide away his passions. He could never show it. He could never know it. He could never blow it --------------------- VERY powerful images here bsq... you wrote this so well I could smell the things you describe. very unusual poem here... unusual point of view...also very cool! sad, but true point you make here. great work, take care...happy bunny day to my sweet squirrel.(smile) jm/bs Well the sun sets gently on your shoulders And it makes me want to touch you there. And the light in your eyes makes me feel Like there's something much better out there Something kind... And I know someday I might be looking around Trying to find some purpose Well purpose it can't be that hard to find As long as I've got the wind... The wind and your love to carry me. vertical horizon |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Hi, jm. Glad you enjoyed. And I agree it's an unusual poem -- one of my specialities, you'll find.  Mike |
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