08/02/2011

I wrote this about two weeks ago; it has musical accompaniment but I can’t find the file and I don’t really care all that much about it, really.

"Bother"

I never wanted to be afraid,
but I guess that’s all I can be.
I never wanted to be ashamed
but there’s madness inside of me

I don’t know what it is to feel.
I don’t know if anything is real.
And you can’t heal the wounds you can’t see…
Why even bother with me?

I’m just someone who has never learned
what it seems that the whole world knows.
How to break into a million parts–
but make sure that it never shows.
Damn sure that it never shows.

I don’t know how i’m meant to feel.
I can’t tell if all of this is real.
And you can’t heal the wounds you can’t see…
Don’t even bother with me.

This is a bit more contemporary.  It occurred to me that I’ve never written a love poem.  This is, I think, really strange, but I write from experience and love isn’t one of my experiences.  Still, it seems important to breach out into something new once in awhile.  So, I wrote about what I thought love would be like, if ever I were to experience it.
 

"Not Alone"

A hand, in mine, and I
know for sure I’m not alone;
And my mind rages into doubt:
NOT REAL NOT TRUE NOT REAL
But I won’t listen, no,
I am not alone.

A back, to mine, and I
lean into this safe harbor.
Not backed into a corner,
cold wall, hard, Panic–
Run!  No.
I am not alone.

A face, by mine, and I
trace the shapes with wonder.
A person, a real person
found me inside of myself
when I couldn’t do the same.
And  now, I am not alone.
Anymore.