Exploration
The love of poetry seems to emit from a longing to unlock a piece of writing
Unlock the mind of the poet themselves?
Constantly trying to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes?
To escape from our miserable own?
Trying to understand how the poets life had led them to write the words that they did
I find myself trying to climb into Antoinettes mind as I read her words on the page
But then again I find her words are already in my head
The relatability comes when the poet expresses how they felt just the same as you did at one time
Wow I’m not alone after all
But to decipher is to expand your perspective in attempt to accommodate another
Sorry for typos by the way
Poetry cannot be perfect any less than it is
Yes it is typos and crosses and white out
Oh what a perfect art
Words are music in themselves
And music is color
Color that one spring day on the riverside
And the smell of it all
The feeling of the rotting wooden pier under your hands and the denim on your legs
Just then and there
Yeah I was there once or twice
The sherry looks warm
But it is cold and too sweet
Excuse my assertiveness
What big jumps I’ve made
Dogs that bite
Say I’m goin I’m goin
To Carolina in my mind tonight
Feel that moonshine hittin you from behind
Come along if you’d like
You know just where to find me
And I’ll ride along with you til you get there
I’ll be right here the whole time
And you’ll be right with me
Until I get there
We will go together different ways to get to the same destination together
Same ways and you reach a different destination
Oh look what they’ve done to my brain
There’s no resolve
Picked myself like a chicken bone
To no resolve
So what can I ask to gain tonight
I have my sustenance is it obvious
I have my strength
I have a bed
A roof
A sink
A picnic table
Bongos
But what can I gain with no resolve
I gain the journey and the pain along with it
Upside down ma
Upside down
There is no key to unlock the words
Your mind will fit some and simply not others
Building walls
Building our own little walls yes
The village sugar takers
Try to escape
Where does one poem end leave another to begin?
Sometimes you just go inside to blow your nose and you’re gone for half an hour
Will he ever come back?
I always had a blanket growing up
Sorry to get off track but it was white thermal waffle weave material with a satin nylon edge
Man I loved the blanket as a kid
It was the hug that wasn’t from another person
Couldn’t say anything to me
But most of all I loved that satin nylon edging
It was cool against my cheeks and my lips
And it would warm up as I would cuddle the soft cool edge and it just wouldn’t be the same
So I would rotate the blanket as I cuddled it so it would always be nice and cool and fresh and new
At some point my grandmother had patched it up too many times
So I got a new one at a time some would say I was too old to replace my baby blanket
Baby blue
And I loved it until I left home at 18
I still love it when I go back home to visit
Bringing me always back to the soft cool safety of childhood
The warm loving blanket with the forever renewed edge of cool soft satin nylon
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday
These days my blanket has been replaced with cheap beer and cigarettes and port and rum and gin and vodka and grass and hash and writing poetry and driving my car over fresh new open dirty roads to fresh new open dirty places
I spent a couple years in late junior-early high school cutting blood out of my thighs
Sherry is cold and too sweet
What will I do with the leftover wine
Make my time right baby
Instead of cutting the blood out of my thighs these days I drink some of Yours
Oh Jesus forgive me from drinking too much of your nectar
But I’ve seen mine enough and I can’t stand the taste
I drink wine and port and gin and sherry and rum and vodka and cheap beer so I don’t have to draw out my own
I can’t tear down my wall
Even when I don’t see it and walk right into it and still don’t see it it is still there
I cannot relate to your poetry if you cannot relate to mine
All and one in one and all
I’m sorry for I have drank the blood and drank and drank
Chapel drunk tonight
Bellow hymns
Singing praise
The wind was tired
And as the wine walked out
So did they
What will the public domain think of me?
This public domain of private entities
All reacting and bouncing off one another through computer screens
What will bounce off of me?
This single obscure hyperlink
All these words from my mind to my fingers to cyberspace to your eyes?
Excuse me
You have my poetry on your eyes
Excuse me I will clean them off now
Unlock the mind of the poet themselves?
Constantly trying to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes?
To escape from our miserable own?
Trying to understand how the poets life had led them to write the words that they did
I find myself trying to climb into Antoinettes mind as I read her words on the page
But then again I find her words are already in my head
The relatability comes when the poet expresses how they felt just the same as you did at one time
Wow I’m not alone after all
But to decipher is to expand your perspective in attempt to accommodate another
Sorry for typos by the way
Poetry cannot be perfect any less than it is
Yes it is typos and crosses and white out
Oh what a perfect art
Words are music in themselves
And music is color
Color that one spring day on the riverside
And the smell of it all
The feeling of the rotting wooden pier under your hands and the denim on your legs
Just then and there
Yeah I was there once or twice
The sherry looks warm
But it is cold and too sweet
Excuse my assertiveness
What big jumps I’ve made
Dogs that bite
Say I’m goin I’m goin
To Carolina in my mind tonight
Feel that moonshine hittin you from behind
Come along if you’d like
You know just where to find me
And I’ll ride along with you til you get there
I’ll be right here the whole time
And you’ll be right with me
Until I get there
We will go together different ways to get to the same destination together
Same ways and you reach a different destination
Oh look what they’ve done to my brain
There’s no resolve
Picked myself like a chicken bone
To no resolve
So what can I ask to gain tonight
I have my sustenance is it obvious
I have my strength
I have a bed
A roof
A sink
A picnic table
Bongos
But what can I gain with no resolve
I gain the journey and the pain along with it
Upside down ma
Upside down
There is no key to unlock the words
Your mind will fit some and simply not others
Building walls
Building our own little walls yes
The village sugar takers
Try to escape
Where does one poem end leave another to begin?
Sometimes you just go inside to blow your nose and you’re gone for half an hour
Will he ever come back?
I always had a blanket growing up
Sorry to get off track but it was white thermal waffle weave material with a satin nylon edge
Man I loved the blanket as a kid
It was the hug that wasn’t from another person
Couldn’t say anything to me
But most of all I loved that satin nylon edging
It was cool against my cheeks and my lips
And it would warm up as I would cuddle the soft cool edge and it just wouldn’t be the same
So I would rotate the blanket as I cuddled it so it would always be nice and cool and fresh and new
At some point my grandmother had patched it up too many times
So I got a new one at a time some would say I was too old to replace my baby blanket
Baby blue
And I loved it until I left home at 18
I still love it when I go back home to visit
Bringing me always back to the soft cool safety of childhood
The warm loving blanket with the forever renewed edge of cool soft satin nylon
Goodbye Ruby Tuesday
These days my blanket has been replaced with cheap beer and cigarettes and port and rum and gin and vodka and grass and hash and writing poetry and driving my car over fresh new open dirty roads to fresh new open dirty places
I spent a couple years in late junior-early high school cutting blood out of my thighs
Sherry is cold and too sweet
What will I do with the leftover wine
Make my time right baby
Instead of cutting the blood out of my thighs these days I drink some of Yours
Oh Jesus forgive me from drinking too much of your nectar
But I’ve seen mine enough and I can’t stand the taste
I drink wine and port and gin and sherry and rum and vodka and cheap beer so I don’t have to draw out my own
I can’t tear down my wall
Even when I don’t see it and walk right into it and still don’t see it it is still there
I cannot relate to your poetry if you cannot relate to mine
All and one in one and all
I’m sorry for I have drank the blood and drank and drank
Chapel drunk tonight
Bellow hymns
Singing praise
The wind was tired
And as the wine walked out
So did they
What will the public domain think of me?
This public domain of private entities
All reacting and bouncing off one another through computer screens
What will bounce off of me?
This single obscure hyperlink
All these words from my mind to my fingers to cyberspace to your eyes?
Excuse me
You have my poetry on your eyes
Excuse me I will clean them off now