|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 11:52 am
On a sunny day in May
I sat down in a meadow
And wondered why everyone seemed so sad.
My dog was licking my toes.
She seemed pleased at the salty taste
Even on a leash, which I hadn't tied properly in any case.
It was too nice a day to bother with double-knotting, re-affirming, and clasps.
So there we were. I had a pack of cigarettes
But I kept forgetting to
Breathe
In
Because the smoke was so pretty as it
Twisted, blue-grey, towards the still bluer sky.
It was that kind of moment.
Yet the problem of dissatisfaction -
- dissatisfied me.
I am one of those people
Who
Spends every other day
Barely conscious, eyes on the screen and fingers on the keys.
However the days between I let slip through my fingers in open air.
So I of all people would know
About dissatisfaction in the world.
I used to be
One of them
When I was growing
And growing
And never growing enough
When I first tested the shapes my body could make
When I drank gallons of acid every night
That I might be properly acerbic, come morning...
I'm not sure why.
I wasn't then, either.
Nevertheless: I'd been unhappy then,
And now I was not.
Perhaps that was all that mattered.
(Though I knew that there was a time when I would have been
Sickened by this kind of joy.)
What the hell.
I couldn't be bothered to help everybody else, I decided,
So instead
I wiggled deeper into the warm earth,
Enjoying the way the weeds tickled and scratched at my back, and
Stopped thinking nonsense.
My dog collapsed on top of me with a little woof
The better to be happy with me
As we fell back
In a pile
Of fur and tanned limbs
Among the flowers.
-
Since the 'stream of conscious-poetry' seems to be a running theme...
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 12:01 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 12:51 pm
Indeed.
Upon rereading this I realize that there is me/my dog UST. Oops. *twitchy eye*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 1:00 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 1:02 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 9:55 pm
scream WEEDS! *pulls out weed killer* WHERE IS IT!?! .... Now I miss my dog... crying It's a bit to fragmented, but it's nice... *thinking of pulling out my crazy dreams*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 10:50 pm
Why not? Everybody else is doing it.
What's WRONG with weedsies? They love us, they does.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 6:20 pm
"They does"? You mean 'they do". biggrin And they murdered my lovely green Chrysanthemum flowers. scream THEY MUST BE PUNISHED!! domokun
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 6:21 pm
Ahem. For reference, see "Gollum", (c) The Tolkien Estate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 10:02 pm
I like weeds.
I don't really know what the term is. I liked the way you spaced things out.
Yet the problem of dissatisfaction -
- dissatisfied me.
I am one of those people
Who
Spends every other day
Barely conscious, eyes on the screen and fingers on the keys.
I like that part especially. You write very well. It's like, you know how you can like something so much you can forget about the style and just experience something? That would be this piece. Thanks for a great read.
(Doggie! O.o)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 11:23 pm
Thank you. I... thank you.
It's really nice to know that I can write something that makes at least one person forget about paying attention to the style and just... read.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 10:22 pm
I like this. It kinda of reminds me of Francesca Lia Block's writing. . . just a little bit.
I liked the part about growing and growing and never growing enough, but I have to agree with Voxxxie that my fave part is the problem of dissatisfaction. <3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
