And now the poetry gets DARK
July 12th 2007 03:21
Hello.
Hope you dont mind me ripping off a few of your terms Stephen King. Theyre just so inspired you know, I dont think anyones quite described mental fuckups quite so well.
Just when I think its perfect......
Kman climbs up on his high horse(and FUCK isnt that funny when he doesnt even know how to ride) and starts lecturing to me in this very superior tone on how many megabytes orble is using, that neither of us will be using the computer next week, and thats just the end of that. How bloody unfair it is that he pays for it yet cant use it.
Does he really think I dont know that? He knows, he KNOWS better than anyone, that guilt and entrapment are the two causes of my mental collapses. And I screamed again today - (god, I hate my mother for brainwashing me into thinking this) That I hate my Dad!
(Never had a psychiatrist tell me I hated my parents. But its pretty fucking obvious and really, it is theyre favourite excuse isnt it?)
Because, according to mum, if he had never left when I was 8 I would have had my horses, gone to uni, and never once, ever, had to wear handme downs. Never once had a night with no power or years without a phone because we couldnt pay the bill. Never missed out on excursions or books or backpacks or school shoes.
As it is, yes, I hate them both with a blistering passion(most kids of separation do - dont kid yourself parents) BUT, like most kids in my situation, I actually blame myself. If I had lit out from home at the tender age of 16 why I could rule the world about now, Sure, Im the one thats had COMPLETE mental breakdowns, Im the one who cant ever hold a job, support my passions, cant just fucking strap it on. So Im more to blame than anyone. I just hate mum, dad and Kman for making me feel so goddamn inadequete. For showing me just how to blame I am. Im already putting myself through absolute hell - why do you have to give me yours as well?
But do you know who I really hate? Who I really, really fucking hate? The lesser Gods. The Riders. The spirits and the Angels. Those fuckers that have followed me my whole life telling me one day Im gonna strap it on for good. Telling me one day, everyones gonna read my books, buy my horses and Im gonna be so fucking successful. The older I get, the clearer the visions become and the more frequently they force me to swallow it. The house, I see in every detail. The stable block, the back garden and catwalk. The rescue centre. Our daily routine. I can see every tiny minute detail. Every goddamn second of our lives. They keep telling me "take it take it reach out and take it!" and I dont know how. I dont know what to do to get it. They just keep telling me its mine, I own it yet it never comes.....Everyday stretches out.....Everything the same.
And when I mention JK Rowlings deal with the devil, the success of the books, then the movies(plus the luck of finding the RIGHT kids at the RIGHT ages) the amusement park and merchandising, and say, OH What have I gotta do to get one of those! Kman says the devil dont want me, cos Im an easy target. He says what if the price you gotta pay is killing your horses?
WELL, say I in reply, thats what the nasty little voices whisper every day dont they? I call it continueing negotiations. I wont hurt my animals, so we are pulling back and negotiating the deal. For gods(hehehe) sake, use me in a way that MAKES me useful if thats what your going to do! How is this twisted shell of use to anyone?
So, take in the latest. Ignore the last line. Thats from when he was offering comfort instead of judgement.
The Shadows Under The Desk
Lost poems
sing to the long boy
letters unopened can be good news
(are you owed your dues?)
until theyre opened
Hither yonder, the green weeds gone,
good ol' Mary Jane
Oh, I could smoke with you
through and through
forever and a day
Shut up mum - dont ask the question.
Dont you know
it has no answer
so why bother to ask if you
already know
what I know is what you know
and you're supposed to know
more than me so why
dont you know not to ask -
The Fucking Question!
Desk shadows, dark.
They permeate the room
like a headache that refuses
to leave just hangs on
making water in the mind.......
Ripple and turn quite fetchingly
swimmingly, I suppose
but it creates disconnection
disorientation
The Real World bucks like a horse
But thats the thing -
thats different in me
The Real World is that place -
Just look at the shadows under the desk
Smokey purple octypus suckers
tentacles, nuero toxin -
bright lights, pin pricks and Oh
pins and needles. Swimming sensations
and fuzzy head.
But Fuzzy head -
fluffy chick sweet wings
means other things and so
describing the sand trickling pathways
becomes
Impossible
To go on, to leap, to look at a letter,
cos its all bound in hope and fantasy
Until its opened.
Then its just more junk.
I dont worry about myself
my thoughts. My senSAtions. My urges
my voices and whispers
I love them.
lovingly embrace all my friends.......
That is why I fear.
Oh, I wish, My man were here.
Hope you dont mind me ripping off a few of your terms Stephen King. Theyre just so inspired you know, I dont think anyones quite described mental fuckups quite so well.
Just when I think its perfect......
Kman climbs up on his high horse(and FUCK isnt that funny when he doesnt even know how to ride) and starts lecturing to me in this very superior tone on how many megabytes orble is using, that neither of us will be using the computer next week, and thats just the end of that. How bloody unfair it is that he pays for it yet cant use it.
Does he really think I dont know that? He knows, he KNOWS better than anyone, that guilt and entrapment are the two causes of my mental collapses. And I screamed again today - (god, I hate my mother for brainwashing me into thinking this) That I hate my Dad!
(Never had a psychiatrist tell me I hated my parents. But its pretty fucking obvious and really, it is theyre favourite excuse isnt it?)
Because, according to mum, if he had never left when I was 8 I would have had my horses, gone to uni, and never once, ever, had to wear handme downs. Never once had a night with no power or years without a phone because we couldnt pay the bill. Never missed out on excursions or books or backpacks or school shoes.
As it is, yes, I hate them both with a blistering passion(most kids of separation do - dont kid yourself parents) BUT, like most kids in my situation, I actually blame myself. If I had lit out from home at the tender age of 16 why I could rule the world about now, Sure, Im the one thats had COMPLETE mental breakdowns, Im the one who cant ever hold a job, support my passions, cant just fucking strap it on. So Im more to blame than anyone. I just hate mum, dad and Kman for making me feel so goddamn inadequete. For showing me just how to blame I am. Im already putting myself through absolute hell - why do you have to give me yours as well?
But do you know who I really hate? Who I really, really fucking hate? The lesser Gods. The Riders. The spirits and the Angels. Those fuckers that have followed me my whole life telling me one day Im gonna strap it on for good. Telling me one day, everyones gonna read my books, buy my horses and Im gonna be so fucking successful. The older I get, the clearer the visions become and the more frequently they force me to swallow it. The house, I see in every detail. The stable block, the back garden and catwalk. The rescue centre. Our daily routine. I can see every tiny minute detail. Every goddamn second of our lives. They keep telling me "take it take it reach out and take it!" and I dont know how. I dont know what to do to get it. They just keep telling me its mine, I own it yet it never comes.....Everyday stretches out.....Everything the same.
And when I mention JK Rowlings deal with the devil, the success of the books, then the movies(plus the luck of finding the RIGHT kids at the RIGHT ages) the amusement park and merchandising, and say, OH What have I gotta do to get one of those! Kman says the devil dont want me, cos Im an easy target. He says what if the price you gotta pay is killing your horses?
WELL, say I in reply, thats what the nasty little voices whisper every day dont they? I call it continueing negotiations. I wont hurt my animals, so we are pulling back and negotiating the deal. For gods(hehehe) sake, use me in a way that MAKES me useful if thats what your going to do! How is this twisted shell of use to anyone?
So, take in the latest. Ignore the last line. Thats from when he was offering comfort instead of judgement.
The Shadows Under The Desk
Lost poems
sing to the long boy
letters unopened can be good news
(are you owed your dues?)
until theyre opened
Hither yonder, the green weeds gone,
good ol' Mary Jane
Oh, I could smoke with you
through and through
forever and a day
Shut up mum - dont ask the question.
Dont you know
it has no answer
so why bother to ask if you
already know
what I know is what you know
and you're supposed to know
more than me so why
dont you know not to ask -
The Fucking Question!
Desk shadows, dark.
They permeate the room
like a headache that refuses
to leave just hangs on
making water in the mind.......
Ripple and turn quite fetchingly
swimmingly, I suppose
but it creates disconnection
disorientation
The Real World bucks like a horse
But thats the thing -
thats different in me
The Real World is that place -
Just look at the shadows under the desk
Smokey purple octypus suckers
tentacles, nuero toxin -
bright lights, pin pricks and Oh
pins and needles. Swimming sensations
and fuzzy head.
But Fuzzy head -
fluffy chick sweet wings
means other things and so
describing the sand trickling pathways
becomes
Impossible
To go on, to leap, to look at a letter,
cos its all bound in hope and fantasy
Until its opened.
Then its just more junk.
I dont worry about myself
my thoughts. My senSAtions. My urges
my voices and whispers
I love them.
lovingly embrace all my friends.......
That is why I fear.
Oh, I wish, My man were here.
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Comment by JohnDoe
Film & TV on DVD
Love the rage coming off the page, a constructive outlet that lets me share in your anger.
Brilliant poem, though I think it needs some music put to it....reads like lyrics to a tune of the opposite energy..
Great stuff keep it up Kleonaptra
Comment by Nickoftime's Sanity Corner
hon we ALL have our own demons to fight each and every day of our lives...
Knowing that doesn't make it any easier though, but some people, like you and I, can see the demons for what they really are and manage to push them aside for a while...
Venting your rage and hostility here on paper is so much better than taking it out on yourself or anyone else around you...
I've been guilty of that many a time...
This was a beautiful, touching and absolutely breath taking piece of work...
It's a shame more people aren't in touch with themselves the way you seem to be...They'd be much happier people if they were...
But you know what? Never stop dreaming...because the day you do is the day you die...
Always keep your dreams alive, even if no one wants to share them with you...
Without our dreams, who are we really? Empty shells devoid of all emotion...
Peace and white light always,
Nick
Comment by Kleonaptra
Kalikapsychosis
Thanks dude, Im loving the dark work - I even worked on my novel last night! Gasp!
Nick,
You have given me a warm light in my chest. I was running around with the ponies today thinking, Im so happy, why did I write that shit yesterday when Im not sure I meant it? My emotions change with the wind, day by day, and Im so glad I have a few literary genius' here that can see my dark expression for what it truly is....exploration, acceptance and quest for self knowledge.
You are so right my man. So many people could be so much happier if they just explored themselves a little more.
And Im glad you see the truth of blogging. To scream it here saves the people I love!
Always great to see you Nick. Loved this comment mate, loved it!