Wednesday, April 29, 2009
As stated at the end of Four Fighting Artists, the work of Lope de Vega is my favorite of the four. That is not to say his is the best work. De Vega, Cervantes, Calderón, and Alarcón are each masters in their own right. Besides de Vega's fiery passion (he wrote "Los Abeces" first, and his are smoldering), most of his plays have to do with honor. The distinction between la honra and el honor in the plays of Lope de Vega was the topic for my thesis that I presented before the foreign language faculty at my alma mater.
Honor is diverse in its meanings and connotations. In case you did not notice, the Spanish language even has two different words to attempt to handle the various significances in context. La honra in the plays of de Vega is "the esteem and respect of one's peers." (Donald R. Larson, The Honor Plays of Lope de Vega) One's respect is given or taken by others.
One's respect is given or taken by others. When one loses honor, he fights to have it restored. Typically, if a woman's honor is taken by one man (the antagonist), then the hero, or protagonist, fights to restore her honor. In other words, the person whose honor is lost must somehow regain the honor of his or her peers.
In contrast, the protagonist of Calderón's plays "reasons with himself, puts personal feelings aside and ends by taking calm vengeance upon those who have called his honor into question." (Ibid.) The character is also considered a hero for rising above his circumstances.
"Real" life sometimes mirrors art in bizarre episodes. In my own dealings with honor, I have found myself to respond at times in the impassioned manner of the characters in de Vega's plays. However, in my maturity, I find that calm vengeance is rather satisfying. If I were able to choose, I would instead turn the other cheek if I thought that honor would be genuinely restored.
Cervantes, de Vega, and Calderón sat in the open air under the shade of an olive tree discussing their plays while drinking red wine. Well known playwrights of their time, the men were adept at hiding underlying statements about society in their words, and they were skilled in their theatrical artistry and for their lyrical manipulation of the Spanish language.
Cervantes, known for his satire and for his biting wit, led the conversation with a disguised remark about the hypocrisy of nobility. Quick with a completely impertinent and ludicrous response, de Vega, himself being of noble but poor blood, interjected that the need for nobility would not exist without the common rabble. But then he followed with a more serious note and genuinely believed himself when he stated that, of course, someone had to be in charge of everything. In his head, he added "and everyone," as did Cervantes and Calderón, although no one spoke the words.
Quietly listening and thinking during the exchange, Calderón lifted his glass and took a sip of wine. A very spiritual man, he took seriously the matters of the human condition. He also believed in the illusion of worldly things. Cervantes and de Vega paused and looked at Calderón, for they knew that he might probably say something that made terribly good sense at that moment. They were not surprised when he said that one's station in life determined not the hypocrisy of the spirit and that among both groups genuine sentiments were lacking in most men. Wise men uttered the same sentiments for millennium before and would continue to utter them into the twenty-first century and beyond.
De Vega was in the midst of a long-winded superfluous monologic response when a shadow fell across his shoulder. The three masters raised their eyes to the face of Ruiz de Alarcón, the Mexican born noble with a well-established pedigree. Besides his foreign criollo status, his red hair, hunched back and arrogance won him few, if any, friends. The charming, womanizing de Vega took great pleasure in constantly ridiculing the misshapen outsider. Once, he and Mira de Amescua sabotaged the opening of one of Alarcón's plays with a tremendous stink bomb. Alarcón would often strike back at de Vega in his writing. Rather than get along, the three Spanish born continued to berate, though to varying degrees, the hunchback, while he continued to fire back at them.
Nearly five hundred years later, Cervantes is remembered as the author of Don Quijote. Most people have heard of Don Quijote, yet few have any idea who he was, let alone who Cervantes was. De Vega burned new trails in theatre and penned some of the most passionate honor plays of the sixteenth century. His star, however, is overshadowed by a couple of other men from neighboring countries -- Shakespeare and Molière. Calderón, the most spiritually profound of playwrights of any age, has been alternately popular and banned. The hero in his most famous play La Vida Es Sueño (Life Is A Dream) triumphs over his passions through his reasoning. Alarcón's work, like himself, was outside the accepted standard for its time -- he was ahead of his time. Several of his works were modeled by other playwrights in his own day and for centuries to come. In his most famous work, La Verdad Sospechosa (The Truth Suspected), the main character loses the woman he loves because of his lies and deceptions. Corneille, Le Menteur, said that he would have given his two best plays to have written this play of Alarcón.
**I feel obliged to add that de Vega's work is my favorite, though I can see myself fighting with him. Notes to follow.
*Originally published in January 2009, I think it is appropriate at this time.
The screams of a thousand rapes of her soul poured forth from the gutters of the desecrated temple in attempts to debeautify. Vandals covered her delicate facade with dense, decaying green, with "ugly," "dirty," "slut," "bitch," Patched places where the priestess, whoring traitor, with her concubines slammed again and again into her foundation. The freezing winds of doubt and self-loathing swept through the inner rooms. Putrid foulness. Soldiers who could have resurrected the temple chose instead to defecate on her altar.
One lone traveler bravely approached the temple many times. Looking more closely, he could see underneath the layers of filth the magnificent rays gleaming from her glowing jewels. Her foundation was unbroken, though her beams were bowing from the years of relentless pounding. Ignoring the stench, the traveler discovered that deeper inside, her aroma remained fragrantly sweet. He felt in the dark for any hidden treasure that might have been overlooked by the godless destroyers.
For years, he would return to his beloved temple and search, refusing to believe that she could not somehow be restored to how she should be. The traveler grew to know his temple nearly as well as he knew himself, and he learned to feel her tender heartbeat.
Each visit brought him closer to the source of her fragile existence. He would try to wipe away the sludge, but the stains could not be erased. He had cleansed the altar the first time he entered. He found comfort in its beautiful simplicity.
He tore down the useless paper patches, and with much care, he filled the holes with the best material he could find. His work did not completely block the winds. Winds so strong, so loud, so violent at times. Disheartened, the traveler felt he had failed his temple. He hung his head and left, heartbroken.
The traveler tried no to think about his precious temple, but she implored him to return. He could stand no more and gave in to the urge to go see her. He was surprised to find that she had been restored in many places. On her face, the old stains were nearly invisible. Her supports seemed to be stronger, if that were possible.
Only for a moment did he hesitate to enter--not for fear of what he would find, but for fear that he would undo her magical transformation. but he could not resist her invitations.
Her internal transformation was even more drastic and beautiful than her outward appearance.
Wisps of coolness saddened him as he discovered that the fillings were still not enough to protect his temple.
He had missed her. At her altar, he was able to find a peace he had known in none of the other places he had traveled. As he slept, she whispered a secret in his ear, the secret he had spent more than half his life longing to know. He woke and wasted no time gently opening a tiny door on the underside of the altar. Inside, the intricately designed key of the whitest gold he had ever seen sparkled in the low lights of the candles had had lighted to fight off the occasional biting breezes.
He took the key in his fingers, laid it upon his bare chest under the left fold of his tunic, and pressed it firmly with his hand.
The screams of a thousand rapes of her soul poured forth from the gutters of his temple. As the screams grew louder, the wall, the floors, the ceilings began to shake. The altar trembled as if it would crumble. The traveler felt the pain, the desolation. The utter agony scorched through, ripping his flesh, nearly tearing his own heart out of his body. How had she survived? He wondered at her perseverance, at her desire to exist in a world that had shown her little mercy.
When the screams subsided, the traveler fell to his knees. He lifted the key with somber reverence, touched it to his lips and kissed it with a love as pure as light. He returned the key to its safe enclosure, closed the door, and leaned against her altar, holding it tight in his arms until he could no longer feel the lower half of his body.
Rising, he steadied himself and noticed that the room had grown comfortably warm. Her aroma, now thick and sweeter than before, wrapped around his senses and delighted him. Her heartbeat, no longer a faint tremor was a vibrant, rhythmic song of joy.
to be continued
Is this what all this was about? It would make sense, but -- never mind.
all the time,
even when I was not in a receiving
state of mind.
I used to give my man the warm shoulder
to lay his head,
even when he lied and swore the truth
o'er loved ones deaths.
I used to hold my husband's hand
even in sleep,
But now I watch for his hand coming
and hide in covers deep.
My husband thought I was the only
one who had to obey,
Each time he broke a vow, a piece
of heart he would fillet.
I warned him over and over that
soon there'd be ought left
I knew my heart could not take an
infinite number of thefts.
The love died long ago with the
lack of respect.
Anything given now, can't help it,
the heart rejects.
The gift of complete trust belongs to one,
The gift of comfort comes from him, too.
With few is shared loyalty and affection
though friendship's hand may be held soon.
Integrity cannot be bribed or bought
Authenticity has a distinct smell
If you want to chisel your way to my heart,
then make harmony with the toll of my bell.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Seriously, tonight's episode was about some of the guys who passed on. Whose families still miss them. It is so easy to take life for granted, to complain about how hard life is. And then I find some reason to be thankful for the things I do have. The voice of the captain calling "Mayday, mayday, mayday" as calmly as he could, knowing that people would die minutes after he had to stop calling for help, hearing that brought a wave of solemn reflectivity over me. Some sounds can say what words cannot express.
The computer generated visual during the retelling was overdramatic, unnecessary, even unprofessional. Almost cartoonish, I felt as though someone was trying to impress me at a very inappropriate moment. Perhaps I will feel differently tomorrow, but I doubt it. I wonder what the wives, the families must think. Feel. I hope they don't feel as though their tragedy, their heartache has been dramatized to put a buck in someone else's wallet. That feeling is not good; it is like being robbed.
When I think of all the opportunities I have had, the ones I've experienced and the ones I've missed, life has been rather sweet. I admire the folks who do the tough jobs. I have worked a few of those. It is not easy.
One of the first things I noticed about too many of the people in my current profession is that they complain a lot. A lot. About things they should not complain, like being able to sit down every day for lunch. Thirty minutes to sit and enjoy lunch with co-workers is not enough. Hearing it over and over, I finally had to say one day "Look, I used to get five minutes to eat before I had to be back on the floor (waiting tables)."
Lately, I have heard myself crying a sad tune over some of the silliest minor things... Stressed out is not the way I wanted to end the semester (as graduate student), the easiest semester academically that I have had in more years than I want to tell. I managed to pull out some sanity in the very last week. Mid June, I get to take chemistry. :-) Maybe I will learn how to make things explode.
Speaking of making things explode, here's one last word on the crab fisherman. Mmmmmm.......
Forever poems are hidden from you,
From you who try to make me ugly again.
You have nothing to change my eyes' view,
and you reach not in return to my hand.
Instead, you slap me down again.
I thought to run, but I will take it.
You must need someone who can stand
and let you live and not just fake it,
not just fake to be a man,
I will not run but get up and stand.
You can scare me all you want
but I am afraid to leave you
in your state of endless haunt,
I hope the friendship to relieve you
and I want to, try to believe you
These poems you will read
are not the best, the love you seek
These poems are not the ones that breathe
of love and passion, of tenders' deep
They live in a kinder place to keep
No meds since Sunday
not this past Sunday
but the Sunday before that
means home plate is easier to see
but I can't take my eyes off the batter
or his helmet
or his number
or the catcher's mask
or his fingers
two pointing down
the ref's moustache is shorter on one side than the other
the batter is looking at me
and there goes the mascot
in his chicken costume
I throw the ball at him
means my driving sucks
means I still have to drive
but I better not wreck
and it is hard
because I love
the people in the cars
ew! that man was picking his nose
hey, I need a new station
whoops! almost drove off the road right
is my song
but it's almost over
change the station
change the station
almost missed my turn
but I swerved
just in time
yes, I looked
over my shoulder
and no one was there
like the last time
you don't really think I will listen to you
now that I don't can't focus as well
unless I drink a pot of coffee every hour
and that will make me gripy as all get out
or I am faking it so I won't have to talk to you. =)
to feel light-footed, free
the way two bonded souls should be
my waist to cup and twirl,
make me feel like a beautiful girl
meet mine with the same
sweet look of devotion that has no name
with you, a dream away.
This dream belongs to yesterday...
Monday, April 27, 2009
Enrapturing, the nuance in your lines,
teasing the senses as I dine
upon your lyrical designs
drink them down soaked in your wine
leading me to a path reclined
where in the afterglow I shine
a stanza for you to imbibe
and suckle till you drink me dry
to fondle till your poem is mine
and mine is yours and yours is mine
and we are two yet one combined
feasting upon our my your lines
Theta, omega, my lover, my friend,
a new beginning with you to end
across time and space my heart I send
may your doubloon be whole again
may your currency hap'ly spend
each day learning, new lovers, new friends
new bonds, new oaths, new tears to mend
new words, new lines, new poems to rend
new journeys, new travels, new stories to lend
new everything, old passes to begin again
Truth, You Speak To Me
Truth, you speak to me
offering only veracity
no lies, no attempts at mystery
only doses of history
teaching me everything you need
everything I need
to move to the future to be
everything I revealed to thee
my hopes for we
my dreams foresee
a greater need
than fiscal greed
a greater need
than lustful seed
a greater need
than now can be
than now can see
than now, you see
do you dream of what I see
the crazy see told all to me
that I would fall in love with thee
and find the image carved on tree
that grows with the rings
from the isle of read
from the aisle of bleed
With you the bonds of attraction
are harder to impart by fraction
Each day as I fail to cease the action
of my heart, a downward spiral, no traction
to break my fall, please catch in reaction
the words I throw in your direction
can you mirror my reflection
or will you miss the entire inflection
of the passion for the passion
that is the reflection in the inflection
toward the direction of the redemption
the reclamation of the salvation
that was sabotaged with mal-intention
as were jealous distractions inventions
Hot As Hell
Hot as hell, my body quakes
for your flood, my caverns ache
What you're willing to give, I'll take
Burn me, brand me, just don't break
my poet's heart. If I should fall, please make
a place where I can always stay.
A burn, a brand, a paper cut,
Nothing eternal, a little blood
A boulder lands with a thud
A boulder threatens not the wood
Not the trees of Eden's wood
where inside is the guarded good
Forever Eden, forever green
Who knows how the story came to be
The story is because all repeat
The tales of man and woman's deceit
The story is because of the heat
The story will continue to repeat
All living beings like the heat
They beg for it, pine for it
Until it repletes
Then they empty and repeat
They seek and seek
Their lustful heat
I love you just because you are
not just because I've fallen far
not just because you heal my scars
not just because you are my star
not just because you melted bars
from round my yearning, aching heart
because you know the words to say
because you know my mind's array
because you know my vow obey
because you know my song to play
because you know the only way
the only way to win the day
the most glory is the win
the one who got away again
and laughed and hit you on the chin
and made you say you're sorry then
he hit you and he laughed again
but love will find the way, my friend
flowers and leaves, tendrils kiss
images of perfect bliss
always tend to make me miss
tiny fireflies in the mist
spirits' voices in the midst
the faint glimmer of upturned wrist
When you draw your daughter's eyes
your eye sees lines
sees space and time
sees depths and attempts to define
what lies between, beneath the lines
what lies between, beneath the lines
Is what you want between the lines
and what hides beneath the lines
Draw with words what's in the mind
Draw that none can undermine
Draw that for the poet's life
That poet for the draw will write
Beauty, brutality the pens doth blend,
twist and meld the two to rend
as mirror shines one back again
not as is but as light would lend
an illusion, a perceived twin
a moment of life to comprehend
Moment of passion, blink of trust,
write a poem to wrong the just
write a poem to write we must
write a poem for time to judge
pick apart a power to crush
infamy, eternity, royal flush
Dueling swords, dueling spears
bells will toll for one who hears
responds to you and body rears
to be plunged and stoned, enduring tears
best come as my virgin disappears
poetic fantasies my core you sear
Bed me, wed me, make me bleed
stroke me till you have no need
the bond that binds I hope you heed
the one the soul -- all shall read
the thoughts the power the rare breed
the wild mare, the champion steed
You can drive
And I will ride
To live, to breathe,
to right, to write.
Take your poem
as your bride.
till your pen runs dry.
from deep inside
secrets still reside.
two doth twine,
of the mind.
Heads and tails
thread that binds
the poet's replies
both to grind
a thousand times
in sectioned aisles
the one who smiles
upon the miles
the sun will rise
as days before
days before time
the mix-ed dye
doth breathe the fire
to scorch and ire
the holier higher
that hath desire
to kill the lyre
hang the liar
beneath the quagmire
no end in sight
it can be done--
Love of A Tainted Woman
My Heroes Two.
One has always loved
Will always love
Even as others
a scarlet letter
I love you both.
Worse than a leper--
Guardians of lepers,
Peeling the lepers' skin
Wears rapidly thin.
Redden the scarlet!
Burn the harlot!
Symbol of 'urge'
Need to purge
Metaphor of wants
My thighs she haunts
Spell of a woman
Will destroy my human.
I do not trust
My core's desire.
I need her fire.
I must deny.
The whore must die.
Not the first to wear
the red rose
to bear my passion.
I dodge the stones,
but some hit.
I catch a few and
throw them back
Then come boulders
for my feminine arms
to lift, but
for the soul...
Unable to defend,
I bear them.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Then there's "Given to Fly," a soaring, U2-esque anthem about a human blessed with the ability to fly. The man returns to Earth to share "the key to the locks on the chains he saw everywhere," but is greeted with violence. He continues to try to give away what he's learned.
Vedder imagined the song as a children's book, "a 20-page cardboard book with a line on each page and a picture to go with it. It's a fable, that's all. The music almost gives you this feeling of flight, and I really love singing the part at the end, which is about rising above anybody's comments about what you do and still giving your love away. You know -- not becoming bitter and reclusive, not condemning the whole world because of the actions of a few."
Which is, of course, exactly the kind of strategy Pearl Jam is employing this time around. Rather than fighting futile battles and standing on principle until the point is lost, it has chosen to yield, to move forward and offer something of value to what's left of its audience. It still wants to make a difference, but no longer needs to shout sanctimoniously from the rooftops. Its methods are more subtle, more humble. More grown-up.
Given To Fly, Eddie Vedder (lyrics)
He could have tuned in, tuned in
but he tuned out
A bad time, nothing could save him
Alone in a corridor, waiting, locked out
He got up outta there, ran for hundreds of miles
He made it to the ocean, had a smoke in a tree
The wind rose up, set him down on his knee
A wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw
Delivered him wings, 'Hey, look at me now'
Arms wide open with the sea as his floor
Oh, power, oh
He's... flying... whole
He floated back down 'cause he wanted to share
The key to the locks on the chains he saw everywhere
But first he was stripped and then he was stabbed
By faceless men, well, fuckers
He still stands
And he still gives his love, he just gives it away
The love he receives is the love that is saved
And sometimes is seen a strange spot in the sky
A human being that was given to fly
If restraint is what makes the Champ,
then I am equally the winner.
If silence blares the loudest amp,
then my thoughts protect a sinner.
My heart inclines the upward ramp,
growing stronger, though the air thinner.
To hurt is not my end, to heir or tramp,
or even to be the only winner.
An open hand with friendship's stamp
was the relationship's beginner,
And remains the dim but glowing lamp
by which I take upon the duty of mender.
that you really did like me.
You could have kept me away from you
but you unblocked me.
I thought you were stuck between
me and your duty.
I tried to stay quiet and observe
but to play is more me.
I tried to lift you up, not knowing
what you need.
I offered what I thought would be showing
that I wanted to be
A friend, more than a friend
if you would
I don't know why your coldness
Was not malicious, at least not until
you felt a threat
You started playing games to fill
my trusting head
You would not tell me any truths
except with words
I tried to keep my oath to you
as my friend deserved
I should have known that in your own way
You loved me.
I should have realized that you did not trust
a total stranger.
I thought by telling you all of my stuff
you'd feel no danger.
Like you, I'm used to having others take
what isn't free.
For so long, I held out hope
that you were he.
I also prayed to one day know
if you could love me.
I never tried to fool you
and I played the games.
But I was blind that some were you
with other names.
My heart had somehow found
its way to you
I listened to every sound
and tried to respond to
Your pleas with my faith in us
that's all I had
I tried to keep raising the love
I wanted to have
I felt crushed and beaten down
but could not stop
My feelings that had only grown
on precious drops
Of hope, for your words I knew
that you wanted me here
Of trust, for your words seemed true
despite my fears.
That made me want to fight
But then I learned that you might
have an uneven score.
The games began before I could
What I should not or should
trust or doubt.
I worried the whole time
would lose a friend.
I tried to find the bad guys
and make this end.
Then I became aware
the bad guys were you
I tried to let you know I cared
and not fall in front of you.
Maybe you could forgive me
for my part
Maybe you could trust me
and hold my heart
You are the one who gave me
the beauty I lacked
And what your arms missed you promised me
Your heart would catch.
that you loved me. _________________________ that you really did like me.
Your persistence, your point of view, ___You could have kept me away from you
should have told me. _______________________ but you unblocked me.
You thought I was becoming less ___________ I thought you were stuck between
than I wanted to be. ______________________ me and your duty.
You saw my apparent mess ________________ I tried to stay quiet and observe
and offered to hold me. _____________________but to play is more me.
You tried to help me, lift me up _______________I tried to lift you up, not knowing
when I was down. ___________________________ what you need.
You offered me your hand, a cup ______ I offered what I thought would be showing
of wishes blown. __________________________ that I wanted to be
You offered me a shoulder to rest______________A friend, more than a friend
your weary head. __________________________ if you would
You passed each and every test_____________ I don't know why your coldness
before you set._____________________________ I understood
You tried to reach me any way ____________ Was not malicious, at least not until
you thought you could. ______________________ you felt a threat
You opened up to a dangerous game _________ You started playing games to fill
you knew wasn't good.______________________ my trusting head
You forgave my abuses even though _________You would not tell me any truths
I did not care._____________________________ except with words
You tried to make me feel whole______________ I tried to keep my oath to you
when no other would dare. ___________________ as my friend deserved
I should have known that in your own way__ I should have known that in your own _____________________________________________________way
You loved me.______________________________ You loved me.
I should have realized the trust you gave__I should have realized that you did not ____________________________________________________trust
was the glory. ______________________________a total stranger.
I should have thought to keep it safe _______ I thought by telling you all of my stuff
since you're like me.________________________ you'd feel no danger.
You're used to having others take_______ Like you, I'm used to having others take
what isn't free._______________________________what isn't free.
But I did not. I chose instead__________________For so long, I held out hope
to play your trust. ____________________________ that you were he.
Not knowing the sense inside your head_________ I also prayed to one day know
would be so much.___________________________ if you could love me.
You could not be fooled, misled__________________ I never tried to fool you
by posers, by rhymes._________________________ and I played the games.
I ignored that I had begun to tread__________ But I was blind that some were you
on battle lines.______________________________ with other names.
Your heart had somehow found_______________My heart had somehow found
its way to me __________________________________its way to you
And listened to every sound ____________________ I listened to every sound
and every plea.______________________________ and tried to respond to
Your faith had flown above __________________ Your pleas with my faith in us
each mountain top____________________________ that's all I had
But I was scared you couldn't love._____________ I tried to keep raising the love
I did not stop. ________________________________ I wanted to have
I crushed you and beat you down______________I felt crushed and beaten down
each chance I got._____________________________ but could not stop
And each time I thought you'd surely drown______ My feelings that had only grown
you would not.________________________________on precious drops
More important than finding love _____________Of hope, for your words I knew
was to break your will.________________________ that you wanted me here
I had never seen one so tough.____________ Of trust, for your words seemed true
Your spirit could not be killed.____________________ despite my fears.
That made me want to break you________________ That made me want to fight
even more.___________________________________ even more.
I wanted to shake you, take you____________ But then I learned that you might
naked, on the floor.__________________________ have an uneven score.
My game, my game, what did I do_____________The games began before I could
to lose you.____________________________________figure out
My name, my name, more than a few____________ What I should not or should
to fool you. ___________________________________ trust or doubt.
I fooled myself into losing a friend ________________ I worried the whole time
in you. ____________________________________I would lose a friend.
I know this is the end_______________________ I tried to find the bad guys
for you.___________________________________ and make this end.
You could never forgive this deed__________________ Then I became aware
I've done._________________________________ the bad guys were you
You could never ever believe _________________ I tried to let you know I cared
I'm the one.______________________________ and not fall in front of you.
Maybe you could forgive me _________________ Maybe you could forgive me
after all._______________________________________for my part
Maybe you could believe______________________ Maybe you could trust me
that I did fall._________________________________ and hold my heart
You are the one who gave me_________________ You are the one who gave me
hope that I could rise.__________________________ the beauty I lacked
You did try your best to save me,____And what your arms missed you promised me
tried to give me your eyes.___________________ Your heart would catch.
that you loved me.
Your persistence, your point of view,
should have told me.
You thought I was becoming less
than I wanted to be.
You saw my apparent mess
and offered to hold me.
You tried to help me, lift me up
when I was down.
You offered me your hand, a cup
of wishes blown.
You offered me a shoulder to rest
your weary head.
You passed each and every test
before you set.
You tried to reach me any way
you thought you could.
You opened up to a dangerous game
you knew wasn't good.
You forgave my abuses even though
I did not care.
You tried to make me feel whole
when no other would dare.
I should have known that in your own way
You loved me.
I should have realized the trust you gave
was the glory.
I should have thought to keep it safe
since you're like me.
You're used to having others take
what isn't free.
But I did not. I chose instead
to play your trust.
Not knowing the sense inside your head
would be so much.
You could not be fooled, misled
by posers, by rhymes.
I ignored that I had begun to tread
on battle lines.
Your heart had somehow found
its way to me
And listened to every sound
and every plea.
Your faith had flown above
each mountain top.
But I was scared you couldn't love.
I did not stop.
I crushed you and beat you down
each chance I got.
And each time I thought you'd surely drown
you would not.
More important than finding love
was to break your will.
I had never seen one so tough.
Your spirit could not be killed.
That made me want to break you
I wanted to shake you, take you
naked, on the floor.
My game, my game, what did I do
to lose you.
My name, my name, more than a few
to fool you.
I fooled myself into losing a friend
I know this is the end
You could never forgive this deed
You could never ever believe
I'm the one.
Maybe you could forgive me
Maybe you could believe
that I did fall.
You are the one who gave me
hope that I could rise.
You did try your best to save me,
tried to give me your eyes.
Having my car tracked
Having my cell phone bugged
Having my blog invaded
Having my home invaded
Having pictures I never sent spread around and made fun of
Having my poetry stolen
Having my picture taken without my permission
For me to look at you like that,
what would you give?
To have my eyes adore and trust,
to know that you live
in my heart, what would you give?
What would I take
if you let me hold you in my eyes?
How much would I take
if you let me past your disguise?
Would you trust me, trust my eyes?
A trail not unlike
the natives' trail
though Boone claimed
the trails existed
time and opportunity
left unguarded they were
even taunted the newcomers
drawing them closer
observers began to note
the shapes of leaves
markings on large rocks
to recognize the sounds
of chattering birds
noted flowers and vines
found connected trails
leading to openings
all later to become
for things bought
from the French
to the Spanish
and to the English
to the outermost
but mostly to the towns
within the state
the white man
always seemed a step ahead
of the natives
by the time Tecumseh
figured out that the tribes
should band together
it was too late
for they were already
Not long ago, a young woman and a young man
wanted to have a baby, but they needed a plan.
They saw a specialist who ordered
multiple tests, including extensive blood work.
The two gave vial after vial after vial.
The list of results went on for a mile.
The doc concluded there was no reason
the couple should remain childless past next season.
A few shots, a test tube, and some money
were the only requirements needed-- and the honey.
Then the young man decided he would rather attend
rock concerts. The end.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Feathers soft on the tips
but hard underneath
Let me brush your cheek
and fly to your peak
Soaring higher to return
to valleys where bridges burn
and waters flow as if chasing
time for which there is no wasting
Run your smooth fingers
through my feathers to linger
Find warm comfort, love
Find hidden fiery treasure trove
Find joy, peace. Find know, find home
Find the joy you no longer must roam.
To be admired long after done
This bothers me not
For this day to love I ought
For this day to love, a thought
that time cannot be replaced or bought
My name is not here yet
My name is impossible to forget
My name will remain
Long after the end of rain
I need no applause of men
I need no glory for this life's end
The soul has need of only one
My soul has need of the only one
These concrete walls fall not to spears
These walls fall only to one who hears
my heart he knows.
You give me work, you give me poems.
Thank you, kind muse, for your kindess.
You give me hope, you give me joys.
Thank you for remembering my blindness.
You give me worth, you take it back.
Thank you for reminding me how life works.
You give me pain. You try to take it back.
Thank you for reminding me how life works.
*I read recently "that is not how it works" or "that is not how life works." I can't remember where. But I will. If someone else remembers before I do, please let me know. I want to give credit where credit is due. Forgive me. I wasn't stealing. That is how my mind works.
*Nathan's blog (Walls Come Down), April 8, 2009. His poem is about how someone's plans do not work. I took that to mean that life isn't learned or developed by someone else's plans. My poem, on the other hand, implies that there are particular things that are certain in life. This is the same message that I tried to explain to the guy in the park. You can always count on there being people to hurt you, so be careful. (Note to self.)
Play games with my heart,
Play games with my mind
Play with me and you will find
One puzzle after another.
Play games with written speech
Play games with words to preach
Play games my life to leech
and find a serious mother.
Play games with valid threats
Play games with open threads
Play games inside your heads
forgeting that I'm your brother.
Play games until you win
Play games for all do sin
Play games again and again
The Spring begins to smother.
Play games with fake friends
Play games with all loose ends
Play games to dollars hands
Who cares about another.
Play games to tell a story
Play games to earn some glory
Play games without a worry
We do not know each other.
Play games because it suits you
Play games till it is not new
Play games because the wind blew
And not because you want her.
Play games to play games
Play games with whatever names
Play games, it's all the same
to her. It's all the same to her.
Friday, April 24, 2009
In your kiss, I am lost, oblivious to the perfect storm
That rages; violent winds, out of control try to anchor
_____The tail of my hair whipping stings my face,
My eyes. My eyes, I close them not here in this place.
_____your hidden eyes, lustfully inhale your noxious breath.
My mouth parts for you, hesitantly, knowing that death
_____one sweet, taste of desire waiting to asphyxiate
Gorgeous, miserable, divine Pandora; I contemplate...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I have been on overdrive trying to figure out everything. I was so tempted to take my toys and play in my own backyard. I don't know why I wanted to stay so bad where I wasn't wanted. I am sorry for crashing your party. And for loitering.
I bet, I hope you all learned some things, too.
I apologize for the negative remarks I said about someone being long-winded. I didn't mean it, and so I never should have said it. I was just trying to give someone else a kick in the writerus maximus to look at what he needed to fix. I was correct about that part.
Someone extremely near to the bell has never respected that it sometimes needs a rest from tolling. 9 milennium to figure it out. There was a 4 o'clock warning, and a warning at every hour since that one should care for the bell, to help it ring its most beautiful songs when it could. Do not wait for the eleventh hour, or the bell may not ring for him anymore. The dude failed to heed the warnings, and the 11th came two hours early because the bell felt it would crack.
Now, it is all out. I hope, I hope, I hope I offend no one. I promise I do not want to. And it is all out. That is how I roll. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX