july 23rd
and i wonder
how memphis is doing
is she still blue as my
cat when she looks outside the window
her eyes wet as god’s face
when she made you
knowing perfection
could no longer describe only her
and i want to believe in that god
in her paints
in her little room
in the fact she cries
because who does she talk to
when she can’t pay the bills
and the sun comes knocking on her door
his face grave as his suit and matching tie
will he take her lies
that the check is in the mail
or haul her fat ass to jail
because she stole his fire and gave it to a man
named fred and girlfriend wilma
so she wouldn’t be the only one
who could see her face in the dark
at the pockmarks the moon gave her
because it was tired of her being so pure
and sexless even when her thighs were sore
from opening to let out the rain
so shells would have enough ocean
and produce sounds that will never quite cover
the cock of a trigger
she must have aimed at her head
when i said i hated her
because of the graves i had visited
on and off since i was 14
but i was lonely
she protested quietly
and added fearfully
i
am
only
human
so is it fashionable to forgive
god when it’s just you
starbucks and the morning paper
as if she were a teenager
that had wrecked your 50 thousand dollar car
because she was late to her best friend’s wedding
her cell phone shut off because she couldn’t stand your yelling
at her for being so stupid and to believe in something
as frail
as fragile
as forgetful
as her
but her sobs are so pretty
so sincerely shed and expressing
remorse over her clay feet and clumsy fingers
and she rambles like an older sister
to the sibling who cuts and says suicide is the only answer
but only half-heartedly
because maybe she secretly wants an easy way out too
yet can’t bring herself to leave her paints
her little room because hey
she just created someone like you
something more solid than the straw in her head
and the lead that lines her ribs
this gilded gift with my name attached
because she knows as she heads to bed
with the bones of my dead for her dollies
this is the only way
i will still continue to
pray
for
her
Author notes
Experimenting.
Eureka moment: maybe god isn't perfect...and warrants forgiveness too...
A contest entry
- eureka paprika! ~Big points by sailor ptolema.
3000 points, ended August 7, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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yes, yes, yes. I LOVE this. When I see your entries in my contests I dance a little jig, because I know I will be reading something bloody fantastic. This is no exception.
"because who does she talk to
when she can’t pay the bills
and the sun comes knocking on her door
his face grave as his suit and matching tie
will he take her lies">>>>>>>>>>>>>>I enjoyed these lines so very
much. But it's hard to be selective on this
. You took me on a thorough journey, and your eureka moment is quietly pensive but so very loud. I can hear it echo down to my toes. Thank you so much for entering my contest! and g'luck!
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sailor ptolema
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Experimenting...is good.
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Thank you.
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I think he forgives us when we stray but I think he forgives us when we question everything, for he wouldn't have given us the ability to do so otherwise. No he's not perfect, but something to hold onto in a world where most of us just let things go and forget where we put them.
C
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your experiments are good.. lotsa good stuff in here..
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This is certainly prose, I think.
Though I agree it could be snipped here and there,
it is still quite effective. I think you have focused well in some places and others, not so much. Metaphorically it feels a little thick, but your work is always heavy with those, regardless. I think this piece just made them stand out more. Your voice is still you though, which is nice to see.
You smell like valentines and straw hats.
;
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Hey look.... it's prose! Yeah, that's right... I said it... PROSE. I knew you could do it! You've been doing all this rhyme lately, I'm not sure I like it. lol. I mean, I LIKE it, but it's more obvious (for you anyway) than it's been in the past. I'm not used to you being.... obvious. It feels like Jesus just slapped me and said "I've been here the whole time you idiot heathen".
So this all means that I liked it. lol.
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Ahem.. uh, yeah... YOU TOTALLY ROCK.
Noffin' else to say
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freefall poetry at its very best
stream of consciousness suits you
marvellous
simply stunning
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but her sobs are so pretty
so sincerely shed and expressing
remorse over her clay feet and clumsy fingers
and she rambles like an older sister
to the sibling who cuts and says suicide is the only answer
but only half-heartedly
holy fuckin' shit, keep experimenting baby. this is absolutely lovely, i thought at first it was going to be to wordy but found myself suddenly forgetting that with the intensity of the piece. yeah, there are some places that could still be trimmed down, but i love this nonetheless. if you want to talk critically, just let me know babe and i'd be more than happy. but i mean, lines like:
'because it was tired of her being so pure
and sexless even when her thighs were sore
from opening to let out the rain
so shells would have enough ocean
and produce sounds that will never quite cover'
it's hard not to love this.
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Lol...thank you my sweet for being so kind. I did this in roughly 10 minutes...just let my mind wonder and my fingers record what was going on inside. lol I figured I'd just let my brain rest for a bit and just do free association just to have some fun. lol
But yeah, feel free to critique away...I know it's rough but in a way, I think it's okay for it to be not exactly pretty...just honest.
But I LUBS JOOO!!
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i lubz joo! and you telling me that you just sat and let this flow for 10 minutes amazes me, and now, don't fuckin touch it...it is rough but that brings a certain quality to it for sure. but let your brain rest, think about beautiful things. like ME!
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Oh crap...then I'll have to write something HAPPY for a change.
DARN YOUUUUUU!!
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lol, you are so grand. and i'm lucky to have had the privilege of being your friend for so long. poetically you truly are one of the voices that are so distinct, so independent, and as a person you know i love the shit out of ya.
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Why do you want to make me cry with your sweetness???
Ditto back, my peach.
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