Saturday, October 13, 2007

Desecrated Spirits


I feel that everything murderous and conspiring is spiraling in toward me. I am the target. Take the shot.

My favorite girl is lost in Detroit--to me, she is lost. Lost in a city by the river that cannot sleep lest it may never wake again. Her cell phone is dead--to me it is dead. The message says she'll call me back next leap year.

I have one more cigarette left and it has to last until the morning. My buzz from the vodka is has abandoned me, there's no liquor here. I haven't smoked a joint in many forlorn moons.

Salvation is only a pretty word I can barely imagine.

Now, I'm writing a tiny haiku on a zig-zag paper:

the smoke circles rise

halos of a dead Friday

mouth silent goodbyes


I'd roll it up with some mean greens, a left-handed Marlboro we used to say, and try to let fly the mind that holds onto ethereal words like they were the only friends it has left.

The party should last forever, but it never does, nor will it.

Everything feels empty.

I tap on the glass of my bottle bed chamber and wonder: Will I ever be set free?














***********************************************

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Oceanshaman for the following award:



Yes, this lucky looking award is called the "You Make Me Smile Award". All my blogger friends make me smile, one way or another. Yes, even you.

Consider yourself nominated if you read this.

And drop by the above link to give Oceanshaman a shout. He's always posting some great music at his place, along side precious wisdom handed down from Lord Buddha. You'll like him. Yes, even you.

Peace out.

51 comments:

Enemy of the Republic said...

Oceanshaman is one of my favorite bloggers. You have been honored.

I know of what you write about. It hurts.

eric1313 said...

Enemy of my enemy

It sure does. Learning to balance in reality when one is used to not having balance, not caring about balance, not caring about much.

Sometimes, a wake up call is needed.

I'm glad to be able to drink a little bit now and not go overboard. But for a time, I could not.

Thanks for the comment. Peace.

singleton said...

From the deep deep waters....
where the pennies lay...

peace~love, my friend

Gillian @ Indigo Blue said...

Your words...where do you find them.
Your mind must be a bank vault of prose.
xo
Blue

eric1313 said...

Singleton

From the deep, deep water
I have risen to tell a story
of a soul in a bottle
who needed out
before it was
consumed by the
sorrows it knew best.

Peace and love, friend.

eric1313 said...

Gillian

A bank vault of prose...

Maybe so. I've always thought of it more like a scrapyard, but I guess it's being upgraded.

Thanks and peace out.

singleton said...

And the sorrow knew you, too...
ficklefaced gypsy in a bottle...
secrets spilled
she's powerless
a puddle on the nightstand

peace~love, my friend

eric1313 said...

Singleton

My problems at that time
were more than just that
but it aggravated it until
I had to stand back and say
"no mos".

Then I found college...
And writing some good friends

"The sorrow"...
She knew many of us. Glad you understand, and like me, you can take it easy now. The bottle won't make it better, but sometimes, it's nice to have a drink or two.

Clink! (a moderated clink)
and peace... forever.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

I know the feeling.

The more you struggle, the deeper in you get.

I was once in the same situation with both my wife and mistress.

Both suddenly wanted no part of me.

Speed dialing one and then the other.
Consensus seemed to be, though these two never met: "You're crazy."
And, like with Andy Warhol in his novel it was dial, dial dial, over and over.

Charlie Chaplin putting Bolt #35 into Frame #13. Modern Times.

Crack their spines.

Rumpelstiltskin, tearing himself apart.

Finally read some Kierkegaard to settle myself down. He crazy as a bedbug too.

eric1313 said...

Ivan

Kierkegaarde does have that calming affect. He had to feel like a schizo, though. Every book of his was released under a different name.

But he's much better than Immanuel Kant. "Either experience makes these concepts possible, or these concepts make experience possible." He just drives me further into bonkersville with the 'Critque of Pure Reason'.

What is it with great writers being whackjobs?

It was a good thing though, the memory that drove this one was an event that preceeded college. Always a good thing. And of course, college led to writing. So this was a negative time that led to positive growth.

Thanks for the visit. Peace.

etain_lavena said...

Hey

Thanks for dropping a line at my blog.

Enjoy your words...funny when everything is missing it happens at once;)
Have a great week.

maleah said...

My favorite part about this is the echo of talking to oneself. That thing you do when you're most alone. And most on edge and really can't hear any sane voice. The Haiku embedded in the prose. Or at least that's how it strikes me.

M

Oceanshaman said...

Thanks for the plug . . .

You make me smile, once again . . . hence the auspicious award . . .

Yeah, chicks can suck, just as we can suck for them . . . part of the human experience thing, this sometimes painful relationship thing . . .

sandykessler said...

I'm feeling it . doesn't thazikwomdt ease little knowing that all these blue headings feel and empathise..I guess not way down in the gut part..

Beerspitnight said...

"Lost in a city by the river that cannot sleep lest it may never wake again"

oh the images that rush my head of buildings, sparsely lite on an on-again-off-again rainy night...

"Her cell phone is dead--to me it is dead."

...the way it sometimes needs to be...

Maithri said...

You take me there. Into the moments you describe so beautifully.

What a gift you have,

Love and peace, M

Manic Street Preacher said...

oh but you're never free. you're never free and you rot in a gutter and then you die and then you love again and again you rot and then die.

i know.

\m/

eric1313 said...

Etain

Thank you for the visit, as well. Your poetry is dark and edgy and full of vitality.

Kinda like this... Thank you for the visit. I'll see you later.


Maleah

Thank you! Those are all the parts that I thought made this one great, too.

The haiku in the middle is especially a good part. A little morose, but hey, it drove the point home.

Peace out, y'all. Later!

eric1313 said...

Oceanshaman

An thanks to you for the award. As Enemy said above, you have a lot to share with us all. It's good to have places to go that are meaningful and inspiring.

Chicks can suck--just as we y chromosomes also can suck--but the things we do to self medicate do not help. We have to learn to move on, to free ourselves from the imprisonment, in bottle, or in a more subtle arena. In our minds.

Namaste, Oceans.

eric1313 said...

SandyKessler

Thanks again for the visit. The words come and go, it's our internal concepts that need to be rectified if we are to move on. Your comment helped out a lot, I did some snipping and editing, here, there...

Peace out.



Beerspitnight

Right on about the way it needs to be--as opossed to the way we want things to be.

'Fairyland', as Vonnegut called it in Breakfast of Champions.

The images you conjured are correct, it's a slow rain, on and off that soaks through the thickest layers of clothing. A cold feeling--physically and emotionally.

peace out.

eric1313 said...

Maithri

Yes, this part of the world is not without it's problems, too. Only, they pale in comparisson to the horror so much of the rest of the world faces. You're the voice that takes so many of us there.

Thank you for your visits.
Peace be with you.



Manic Street Preacher

I aspire to rise to the level of a common gutter. Don't shat on my parade! :)

Yes, it's a cycle.

Only thing is, we can make it easier by not compounding the misery with the things we do to cope. It's tough, there's no answer, but a bottle doesn't hold a genie. More often than not, it holds a demon. One must be carefull.

Of course, I still partake, only, I don't drown myself anymore.

(kinda wish I had a spliff, though...)

Clink! Peace out.

the.red.mantissa said...

Salvation is only a pretty word I can barely imagine.

indeed. i have felt that.

i do have a spliff. and i'm gonna smoke it. to hell with cold turkey.

love the way you write.

how does one fill up the emptiness?

maybe we're not supposed to?

karma lennon said...

Oh god, Eric, you were right. I do love it. It speaks to me, it's been my year. What to do when everything's missing but nothing's gone? Me and my bottles night after night, missing HIM, wanting another who has another, wanting something more than THIS just this. Too many nights like tonight, restless and wandering and just alone with Bud and my knife and my words. Yeah, this totally speaks to me.

JR's Thumbprints said...

But does he have any doobies to sell? Or as you call them, "Left handed Marlboros." Now that would really make me smile ... after "not" inhaling of course.

eric1313 said...

Red Mantissa

Hey, You!

Good point. Maybe we are not suppossed to 'fill' the void, but grow spiritually and emotionally, so that the void has less significance.

That's what cold turkey was about? I thought yuo meant nicotine at your blog... I envy you and your spliff.

Peace out!


Karma Lennon

Glad to hear it. *Universal is a good thing.

Sorry to her that everything is staying at its even-keel of low ebb. But you can raise yourself above, it takes practice, time and an effort. I'm not really one who should talk. But I think you can do, and I wish you the best of luck.

Peace out, Karma. Take care.

eric1313 said...

JR

He might if he had a satchel. Which he does not. Much to his chagrin.

Yeah, I take it the state is back to it's normal screwy level of function? Of course, Bill Clinton set a wonderful example--bloodshot eyes, tired, munchies, and "no man, I like didn't inhale. Or something."

Peace out, man...

Cheri said...

What a Detroit night that you described. Even a Metro-Detroit night. I think that I've been there plenty of times, with the dead cell phone and as the person with only one cigarette left.

Josie said...

You're talking about my life right now.

The party should last forever, but it never does, nor will it. Ever.

Everything feels empty.


Why do we somehow get fooled into thinking the party will last forever?

You're a good writer.

eric1313 said...

Cheri

Or both. Thanks. It's a peculiar kind of feeling, of a weird pocket dimension being not very far away from here where anyone can get lost if the want to--or if they don't want to.

Nothing like nursing a single smoke all night long. That's the worst, smoking half now and half later. It all speaks of brokeness, as m would say.

Thanks for the shout. Peace out.

eric1313 said...

Josie

Thank you for the compliment. You write with good writers and you write very well. And you claim not to be a writer. Very clever of you!

We want the party to last forever. We think we can make it do so through will alone. But that's not the case.

I actually got that from an interview with Stevie Ray Vaughn, a long time ago. "Sometimes you just want to stay at the party foever. But you can't, nobody can. You have to go home sometime."

Very wise words. He sobered up and what happened? Moron helicopter pilot flew him into the side of a hill. Not even a mountain, just a hill. There are no mountains in Wisconsin. So sad. Motley Crue and Poison live on, no matter how many flights they take, and he dies. That's a travesty.

Thanks for the visit, Josie.

Take care and peace out.

Cazzie!!! said...

Well, I got stuck on the initial image in this post, what a lovely sight it is, very pretty, like something your Grandma would have on her dressing table that you know you ought not touch but cannot resist it, just twinkle the beads in your fingers....forbidden palpation.
The accompanying poem, of course, as usual, valid :)

eric1313 said...

Cazzie!!!

I loved that picture, too. I just Googled "Genie Bottle" to find it. It was so strange looking--it was called 'Sultan's Genie Bottle'. I gues you can buy it somwhere. I'd bet it is not cheap!

Thanks for the stop! I'll catch you later... Peace out.

neko said...

A similar forlorn feeling, with some added panic, just for flavour, hit me over the weekend.

was this the weekend for lost loved ones?

mine returned, eventually, and not a moment too soon.

But, the morbid thoughts linger..

tomorrow is another day, they say. Will you meet it with a pasted-on smile, hide the turmoil, and hide it well?

don't let them see you are fragile, just like everyone else.

be strong.

we're all in this together, after all. even if the world has never felt lonelier.

Crashdummie said...

just cuz ur paranoid doesnt mean you aren't being followed, mate ;)

congrats on yet another award - you deserv em all!

Cheers

Ant said...

"So what - you're saying I'm a funny guy? I make you smile? I amuse you? Is that it? Naw, leave it Paulie, I wanna know what this punk meant..."

:-)

Blancodeviosa said...

congrats on the award! i've got an empty clonopin bottle if ya want a sniff. don't mind the lipstick stains. i might have licked it when i was desparate.

Marissa said...

you deserve that! you make ME smile!

karoline said...

oh (((eric)))...were it not for the feelings of incredible loss, we would never recognize the heights of euphoria...as each chapter in our lives completes...another is written to carry on...

your beautiful words stir my soul..

k:)

realbigwings said...

That's a lovely image, the haiku on a rolling paper. You could burn it up, with or without a filler, and release the farewells and loss.

Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Hmmm.

Blessings.

eric1313 said...

Neko

Your thoughts on this are exactly why I love blogging. To feel together on this.

Yeah, it's tough. I wear my heart on my sleve quite a bit, at least when I'm among friends. Among strangers, I wear a poker face. Nut that's hard to maintain. I'm too honest for my own good!

I hope your world doesn't feel lonely for very long. You're a sweet soul, and my number one Souyth African fan. That's priceless.

eric1313 said...

Crashy

Words to live by:
They do talk about you.
They are following you.
There is a conspiracy.
It is as bad as you think.

Thanks for your encouragement. You're my number one Swedish fan. Even if you do have a permanent tan! ;) That just adds to your mystery.

Cheers, mate. Did I ever tell you you're the bomb?

eric1313 said...

Ant

You're such a Goodfellow.

Don't shoot me in the foot... and I am not a stuttering prick.....!

Peace out!


Blancodeviosa

There's that sense of humor I missed last week. Hope your feeling better.

Clonopins make many worlds go round, even a long since emptied scrip...

Peace and mellowness...

eric1313 said...

Marissa

:)

Glad to see you. And keep fighting the good fight. You're a great writer. I'm glad you like my stuff. Gives me hope.


Karoline

I was a little worried about how the subject matter would play out in this one. Glad it appealed to you and everyone else here.

Take care. And see you soon.

eric1313 said...

Dawn

The haiku was my favorite part. It set this up as fairly unique.

I probably did burn it! And the feelings drifted away, but not completely, the memory is still there to write from.

Breathe in
out
in
and there you have it. Life at its simplest. We are... and that's qall we need to be.

Thanks for the shout. Take care.

benjibopper said...

hard times for an honest man. but at least you got a good haiku out of it, and that's not easy.

eric1313 said...

Benjibopper

The haiku makes the story. I liked this as a prose piece framing the inner verse.

Peace out.

Danny Tagalog said...

Hi Eric,

Well, hope you're feeling somewhat better now, helped by mean greens ot Kierkegaard. Whack jobs? It's our duty to be whacko's at times like this!

Bloody cell phones, eh? They
encourage us to send ill-articulated messages when deep thought and face to face talk would do much good.

Anyway, another fantastic post, but I hope better times are in store....

Princess Pointful said...

I love when you veer a little more into the prose direction (not that your poetic verse isn't delicious). This piece has the perfect mix of sentimentality with a little dirt smeared on it. Loved the bit about the haiku on the rolling paper.

eric1313 said...

Danny Tagalog

Ha! I'm reading your page right now, listening to Jimi Hendrix's Monterey performance.

Yeah, as many of my other reader atest, cell phone text-speak is speeding us into the dullard zone. There is no replacement for eye contact.

And don't worry, this one was from the past--it just was conveniently remembered last week at Ivan's blog.. It's all good.

Peace.

Princess Pointful said...

Re: Your comment back on my end (what a funny way this is to communicate, huh?... I wasn't sure you would make it back to my February post!)
I think one of my favourite things about your comments is that I get a genuine sense that you are going that much more beyond the surface, trying to understand me versus just my post.
And, yes, I can certainly get what a blessing it is to be able to write again. I feel like having an excuse to do so, even in this odd forum that we call blogging, really clears my head.
Like being able to write that post tonight. Just writing about it all resulted in it having a whole lot more sense for me, and helped me understand why a silly dream has followed me around the past few days.
I always appreciate your words, Eric :)

eric1313 said...

Princess

Thank you for your most encouraging words about my prose. They are very appreciated. And about the "dirt smeared sentimentallity", as you put it...
And about the haiku!

Yeah, this is a great way to communicate, if a bit odd. I like it. It's the modern Pony Express.

Thanks. I try to understand all the bloggers I get a lot from their posts. I can't stand when somebody writes about innane things I can't engage. But your posts are really good. You write about yourself, but you don't like to whine. You stay objective and try to learn, not beg other's to tell you answers. Lots of people like your posts. It's easy to see why.

Thank you so much for the compliment. Looks like I should post again, soon.

Peace out, Princess. Until tomorrow.