Wednesday, August 22, 2007

The Lady and the West Wind


Last nights are always heavy
the desperation of each caress
turning slowly into a clenched fist
wearing you down like a boxer
fighting more than just shadows--
and gravity pulls you down low,
until the count begins it's toll...

Tonight you're stronger than the bolts
on daddy's liquor cabinet doors,
I said to you with my cold autumn
biting kiss through an open window
and you knew it was true.

Tonight, you break the agony
Tonight your wish will be born
pulled from you belly by your
own hands, a mother you will be
to a dragon in the darkness.

You pulled the trigger
you swung the hammer
you destroyed the face
of he who shoved you
down under the dirt,
leaving you with scars
upon scars, broken-jawed
silent and gasping, alone
with a love as black as his
used to be...

Tonight, you will fly,
I whispered into your delicate ear.

No straight jacket will bind your limbs
no swaddling for les infant terribles,
or once beautiful minds plunged
into a gutter so vast it is called life.

No cage will be you prison
No death will come to thee

You strike the air with your arm
clearing it of the old skeletons and
demons, telling you to get over it,
voices telling you they understand
and you remember everything
but their faces--always the voice
and the face is lost to a black veil...

Get over it,
I said,
And you did.

You must help yourself,
I said,
and you did.

Look into my face,
I say to you now,
and to the window you are drawn
like a rope around your neck
pulled by a figure only you see.

Look!
I say,
as a trumpet siren wails.
Gravity lies dead and broken
on the side of the road.
Let's make a swing
with it's corpse
before the others find it, too.

Tonight, you will fly!
You look straight ahead at me;
away from your scene
through the open window--

You pulled the trigger!
You destroyed the face!
He won't laugh at you again
He cannot hurt you;
you have delivered him to hell.

Chaos can be controlled, I say.

you see into my body so close
to your naked form in the night,
looking at thoughts creeping
like insects all over my mind,
organs oozing black toxins
pumping an unhallowed life
into the entropy.

Chaos can be controlled, I laugh.

You step up onto the window sill.

Tonight you will fly!
before the sun catches up to
you with betrayal's razor.

You look around,
sirens keening closer like banshees
the crushed face say nothing,
teeth broken and tongue swelling
with the trickling hours dieing
one by one by one...

You spread your wings
knowing only
that now
you have to fly.

You spread your wings
the weight of gravity
no more than before
and no less.

Fly...

28 comments:

singleton said...

ohhhhhhhhh

eric313 said...

Hope you like it...

fiction+poetry = fictry or foetry

or poetion!

Not bad, kinda long, but hey...

I knew a girl named Sara who broke down similar to this once, except she didn't kill her boyfriend--even if maybe he kind deserved to be. It was really a sad thing to hear about. She tried to jump out her window, and of course everyone said that it was a suicide attempt, but she only said she wanted to get away, and that's all she would say about it. She used to write a lot in high school and we'd pass stuff and she would ho see my band all the time, but we never dated. I haven't talked to her in years. The last time I called her, she said almost nothing to me and I felt bad just keeping her on the line. That's the way a lot of people desrcibed her, too. Eventually I stopped calling her. It was realy heart breaking to know.

p~l

benjibopper said...

floetry, in hiphop parlance.

"revenge is a dish best served cold. it is very cold in outter spacee." -khan

entropy is a great word.

eric313 said...

It's a little like that. Floetry in motion--poetic slam events. I've never read at a real one--perhaps it was the cheap imitation poetry slam I went to one time that made me dislike them.

The occasional open mic night at my local Bukowski haunt is acceptable, though.

Khan had entropy on the brain.
"from hell's heart, I stabeth thee...
for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at theeeeee..."

realbigwings said...

Wow, that was like an art movie. I liked the feel of story within poem. Very intriguing, with beauty all through.

eric313 said...

Thank you, Dawn! I'll be by soon, friend.

Yes, it was visceral and visual, as well.

I'd love to write movies, I always try to visualize everything as I write it. If I can't see at least most of it as I write it, then it still needs major work until I send it here.

This one was powerful and painful, and that's what helps to lead to the beauty within it.

Thanks for the visit.

captain corky said...

"Tonight you're stronger than the bolts
on daddy's liquor cabinet doors"

They never stood a chance against Captain Corky. ;)

karma lennon said...

Wow oh wow. This spoke to me in so many ways I can't even describe. Whether physically there or not too many demons harping on me lately. "Chaos can be controlled"-love it. Wow....

Blancodeviosa said...

No straight jacket will bind your limbs
no swaddling for les infant terribles,
or once beautiful minds plunged
into a gutter so vast it is called life.


No cage will be you prison
No death will come to thee



this gave me goose bumps. i actually got this nauseated feeling when i read it. it must have triggered something in my mind that i am not even aware of yet.

Pythia3 said...

"Tonight you're stronger than the bolts on daddy's liquor cabinet doors, I said to you with my cold autumn biting kiss through an open window and you knew it was true."

OMG Eric, I love the entire poem, and that stanza is absolutely amazing!

PS I vote: poetion

Peace,
Lindy :)

Lynn@ZelleBlog said...

Odd,I did not take you for a slammer.

Crashdummie said...

No cage will be you prison
No death will come to thee


wow that was amazing eric. Have missed reading ur poems sooo much. Back from vacation and now I have all this catching up to do.. wohow!

cheers mate!

Edyta said...

This is a strong piece.
I somehow can relate to it..

"Fly..."

To talk abt death not actually mentioning the word "death" is always an amazing finishing touch.

skinnylittleblonde said...

I like the word 'foetry' especially for this one.

beautiful minds plunged
into a gutter so vast it is called life.

Sometimes that's just how life is...full of backwash, rainwater, spillage & debris and no matter how hard we try to stay afloat sometimes there are unseen roads we just gotta go down, in this case gutters, to get to where we are always meant to be.
Beautiful.

the.red.mantissa said...

a mother you will be
to a dragon in the darkness.


that says something to me ... cannot verbalize just what.

chaos - we cannot control it. that's the illusion that despair wants us to believe. methinks that what seems like an escape from despair actually, may be, unbeknownst to us who find our Selves wallowing in it, actually plunging further and further toward said despair.

when do we become the pain we feel?

love the imagery.

singleton said...

"Gravity lies dead and broken
on the side of the road.
Let's make a swing
with it's corpse
before the others find it, too."

I keep creeping back, wandering through these lines, all of them....
the faces of familiarity
buried here in someones elses
siren song....

eerily,
hauntingly
beautiful

Inside our hands, outside our hearts said...

There is something different about this poem. Part of me thinks of love and the other of getting rid of death or those that destroy us.


"Oh in your delicate mind, swim near me and if your heart be pure follow fate into warms waters that lay just beside me in the coldest of winters and I shall offer you my body's heat in thanks for your visit"

Well done.

Jessica said...

Beautiful. You have a way with words...

MyUtopia said...

What a beautiful poem! I am hopefully going to be around more. Finally getting adjusted and settled back home.

eric313 said...

Everyone

Thank you so much for reading this one! I was worried. I'm totally busy this weekend, my brother Aaron is getting married and I'm standing up during the ceremony. Tonight is rehersal and dinner, and tomorrow is the day.

I'll post asap, but I can't get around to responding in my usual long winded fashion right away--or my unusual poetic comet flare across the sky.

Trevor Record said...

Wow, murder and then a suicide before the cops can get at her. Or is she just confused and desperate to get out of there? How old is she supposed to be, would you say?

Enemy of the Republic said...

This is really good. Your command of language is outstanding. Keep the work going. You got a muse that is working you, baby!

Oceanshaman said...

The true power of a poem lies in the extent to which it gives rise to multiple moving meanings, flowing over one another kaleidoscopically as the reader reads . . .

Such is my experience with this poem . . .

Sweet . . .

Gillian @ Indigo Blue said...

It paints a picture so vivid Eric.
You really gots a graspy on the olde English language! (lan-guahh-je)
Why does she do it?
Kill him?

the crushed face say nothing

yikes, gives me the heebs.
Very good though!
xo
Blue!

neko said...

so... wanna tell us what happened?

dark. very dark.

Princess Pointful said...

The first line just grabbed me... who can't sympathize with the heavyness of certain nights?
Even more powerful given the story behind it.
I hope you are well, Eric! I seem to remember a spell of busyness coming your way.

Wizened Wizard said...

Mmmmmmmmmmm. So good, leaving my mind with vivid images and troubling questions, my mouth with the taste of wonderful words and savory phrases...

eric1313 said...

Everyone

Glad your still with me. This one was something I worried about, but I shouldn't have been.

She was eighteen, the girl I knew who inspired this one. It was a long time ago...

Wish the best for her...