Just quickly, I have three poems up at Dead Snakes - Two are true stories, the first about someone I know and the third a personal experience. The second is my frustration with the rigidity of university, not simply my experiences (I did two years but did not complete) but stories I've heard from others.
Yawn
The whole tortured artist thing is worn unfortunately, clichéd and even taken on by some as they try to create an image that they think will sell or that is cool. There's really nothing cool about it. For those genuinely afflicted, its very unpleasant. So instead of trying to deny that or dispute it, (as I've never really mentioned it as such) instead I'll say I'm a creative person who happens to carry around fluctuating strengths of 'baggage' - without wanting to throw in overused (and under appreciated) words like anxiety, depression, alcohol, medication... Sometimes in gets in the way of creating, and a lot in the way of life. And sometimes it helps with creating.
Occasionally I do something good. Yet once, I did something amazing. Here's a poem I wrote about it.
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| Minutes old |
I did good
(4.2.13)
(For Tilly)
I dream in
shoegaze colours
Of frustration
and exposure
And failed
ventures
Betraying
(How I assume)
I really feel
about myself.
There are issues
(so psycho-babble
theories dictate)
Rather than
suggesting
That this is
simply the design of the machine.
Mistakes like
seams,
Flaws like
daybreak
Light slicing
into the tranquil
And while I do
attempt to rectify them
I only move on
to make new ones.
Lord, forgive me
for what I have done
Though I don’t
believe
We must believe
in something
And it allows me
someone to confide in.
Damage as steam
Searing with
residue
Until somehow
There was her
Without plans
And cautious manoeuvres
As though carved
up
Out of failures
In metaphysical
defiance
Made form.
She is better
than I ever was or will be
(albeit one
divided from two)
And that beaming
face looking up
Brings salvation.
I did good.
My Books
Being caught in assuming who you think you are. You recognise your own issues, and instead of dealing them full on, you sometimes "move on to make new ones."
ReplyDeleteIn the midst of all these things, your daughter is your salvation, your saving grace. She keeps you sane. She keeps you grounded. If not for your own sake, for hers. She keeps you wanting to improve the parts of you, that you "assume" and through her eyes and her innocence, you discover your own inner child.
She is joyous and spectacular - yes you certainly did good xx
ReplyDeleteYou really did do good!
ReplyDeleteI like the poem too. It's deep, smooth flowing, and - in the end- light and happy. Great last line.
xoRobyn
The longer you live the more mistakes you make. A mistake less life, like an unexamined life, is not worth living. So prepare to make some more. And sometimes you will do really good.
ReplyDelete