Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Indie Poetry handout #3

This is the handout we can discuss in class on the 1st of October. Posting it ahead of time :)

Indie Poetry & Social Consciousness: Considering poetry's potential for raising social awareness

The Doctor’s Waiting Room

A plain cream betrayal, hides behind these walls
Distantly voices of referring phone calls,
The nurse seems to say, behind noise-proof glass,
This kid thinks he’s different, why should I ask
I almost stood up and walked to the door
But a promise to mother kept my feet on the floor
The hallway was scattered with irrelevant pictures
And cupboards of cures that they swear by like scripture

“Ahead on the left” she said with a smile
I thought to myself this hallway’s a smile
I looked for a desk, but saw couches and chairs
And she sat looking at me with the blankest of stares
“So how would you say all the problems started?”
I looked to the sky as if deeply departed
What an obvious start to an embarrassing tale
Of a life that I loved and couldn’t curtail
A family that saved me, an art that I loved
A time that I simply had too much of

Are you drinking a lot, are you sleeing OK?
It seems like these things could have come into play”
OF course I was anxious to tell her the truth
This had become my family’s telephone booth
If I broke down here, what would that mean
Was I not as strong as my father had been?
But I think I can fight this all on my own
With a handful of happiness that never was shown

We talked about writing, we talked about fame,
We talked about why they all called me insane
We talked about being the one that was great
I didn’t know much about that, that wasn’t my fate
The only truth that ever came out of this month
Was a phrase that seems true only after you shout
“I guess I just can’t handle the pressure,
I wish I had taken a walk for the summer:

The time winded down and we finished the session
My eyes had been fixed on the clock, it was pleasant,
I left the waiting room, men waiting for wives
I thought of my friends and their interesting lives
And I stood at the door, the session was done
And I thought to myself, what have I become?

I walked slowly and careful not to cause a big scene
I knew others would be waiting here long after me
Now when I think I had it all on my own
Is now when I realize, I’m really alone.

As the Heart Departs

All my friends they each will tell you different things
but it’s the comfort that kills me
Art you said was more of an obscurity
It was you
and you’re right where you should be
you’re doing nothing
amidst applause
your heart is empty
your judgment’s pending
Left alone to your devices
it’s hard to say that this would be better
that this would be sane
This life is mine
What’s your intentions?
If that was as good as it gets
its just enough to forget
If that was good as it gets
it’s just enough to continue again
I know your face
I’ve smelled your waste
I’ve seen your heart
And I can’t look again
For my reflection’s just as dark
If this is the last breath I should take
I’m just getting better
“In life we learn from our mistakes”
I’m married to mine
Take all the things you’ve left behind
they’ve haunted me always
and here’s to years and years of smiles
if only forever

Jason Gleason from Further Seems Forever

catching the grayest of blue skies when
love is just too big to know
straddling april’s winter when the heart is only half whole
for pouring myself onto misguided streets
that I turn
and traffic will always be waiting for me to catch up,
to catch up,
to crash,
to burn
oh exit, exit, she calls out my name
catching her breath on my memory stained
I remember a time when I traveled afloat
but my ship has a hole…
and it’s only a matter of time till I know

This is Not Me

what’s it like to make a metaphor?
my mother’s a womb
my dad’s a guitar
my love is a heart
or a kiss
or a star
or a prayer for my life as I sleep in the car
she’s a doctorate in rain
and the same last name
or a light in the dark and my god is the same
my life is a speck of dust
or a flame
and I’m all the better for it
not knowing, or caring, it’s not for me to choose
some call it trust
some call it faith
it’s all just a matter of taste
and this is not me
and I’ve fooled you all again

No comments:

Post a Comment