Stay inside me
By blighters rock
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(I hope Annest won’t mind that I used the structure of her poem, Milk, to help me write this. It’s probably an average poem but replacing words from another’s work can be the kickstart I need. I find structure difficult and Milk’s so effortless that it sang to me.)
This sunshine reminds me of her
swimming to the bobbing buoy
among jellyfish and eels
then home, placing eggs in the shade
as butter leaks at their side
scrubbing growths from wounds
that aren’t there
Breaks of hot urban filth
in desperately hip hotels
letters opened, unsent thoughts,
loneliness as we lied together,
then diversions with Hyde
flirting in legion dives
empty but for the disease
of bottles, gear and business
She was the girl with skin like a Geisha’s
pure and unscented as a Kyoto crypt
mahogany silk tucked behind her ears
timeless as a Yoko Ono stare
black eyes on polished porcelain
and a promise to make dreams come true
I was the lost little boy she chose
27 to her 22
so we danced up a dazzling storm
skipped to crisp white cloth
at the best tables in the swamp
the wine, the taste of her
Then came the charging horses
riding in the sky as we came,
‘stay inside me’,
those deadly words
nails dug into my buttocks
feeding on saliva
and the terrible thing
I let her do weeks later
After that we went to Whitechapel
saw a film on birth by Bill Viola
but I was still that lost little child
snuck out for a fag
when tears rolled over her cheeks
couldn’t blame her for doing it
her family has history with bedlam
She forgot me but I never forget her
always thought
my girl with skin like a Geisha’s
would crack, that I’d be there
waiting in the last of the sun
to put her back together,
but she’s fine.
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Comments
A beautiful poem
Gotta say, that since just above yours in my take on one of Bear's.
Though, yes it is excellent, so atmospheric and, as I am sure you would be by other peoples experiences, I find some deep truths and familiar emotions I rarely want to contemplate anymore within this piece.
Ed
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Something
For a long time now I have been aware of an enduring theme in your work, that of you as an unguided, missunderstood, perhaps unloved (real or imagined) child playing forward into you adult life. It also seems that this aspect of your experience still has a part to play in your creativity, maybe it always will have.
Admired this piece.
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