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I MAKE MYSELF NUMB WHEN I NEED TO PUNCH HARDER

Submitted by tired_goat on Tue, 2012-01-24 21:19

You took me to the dreamland as
‘little boy’ skipped like a stone
a thousand of them, a shower of stars
dam busters;
I had a headache as if my skull
had fallen off the bus, grazed her knees
on the concrete with daisies
bamboozling through the cracks of the pavement –
I leapt over them
because I read too much A. A. Milne in my childhood.

Now we are eighteen
my smallest toe slips into a crack in the pavement,
and here he comes
somewhere between bear and wolf, standing
as tall as a fire-extinguisher
shot into the sky - a vagrant firework display,
he snatches me, I am flailing
with balloon tears rolling through my beard.

It was yesterday that I may of well been Winston
but you took me up to the old church hill
and through derelict stained glass windows
I witnessed the rapture of cloud ballet
the tangle of a sunset like an octopus double-knotting itself
until it falls, eternally in orbit, around once more
and once more again;
I'd wear sunglasses so thick that
they were slices of brick painted with tar
and you were busy white-washing
all the flavorless rape out of my mouth
so I could taste white nectarine's wet blossom across my pallet.

And now I can stand at their office window
with a mallet,
unaffected
and ready.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
Last few words: 
I got arrested a few months ago in regards to the Occupy protests, and met my lover the day after. This is about that.
Editing stage: 
Editing - draft

Comments

William Saint George

Wed, 2012-01-25 04:03

William Saint George's picture

This reads like a mature poem. I don't have time yet to explore all the metaphors, but the poem is rich in them. And seeing it was a true story (and a lovely one too), I like this poem more.

But I must say again that I got lost in the forest of metaphors you presented here.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

http://www.wsgeorge.com/

weirdelf

Wed, 2012-01-25 06:55

weirdelf's picture
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I'm not going to crit this now, I'm going to read your other 2 poems first. Shoot me if you must, I believe in looking at a poets works.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

tired_goat

Wed, 2012-01-25 19:10

tired_goat's picture

http://archive.neopoet.com/goatman <-- me

http://poeji.tumblr.com

author comment

weirdelf

Fri, 2012-01-27 18:10

weirdelf's picture
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I said I thought your work sounded familiar. Back from Japan then?

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
https://www.neopoet.com/workshop/rhythm-and-meter-poetry

emogothgirl

Wed, 2012-01-25 13:37

emogothgirl's picture
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it seems we have a natural on our hands. very well done. love the subject and the story behind it.
always,
mag

Esker

Wed, 2012-01-25 13:51

Esker's picture

of course nothing like this wonderful colourful
and composed work

liked the threading of imagery much
Now I see what others see in mine
although my writing is sparcer

a long time ago I went against the authorities
whom interested me so much
I was an observer freind at one time
but was taught to singularly go and
trouble them

that was something
articulation is something
of importance on ones feet
and then in a crowd where
there really will not be
a voice..even more something

but it is important that with
the proper talent and work
with words people will listen
people will read and cohesively
link up there is a power in
the human voice the natural
ability to lead through the
beauty and need of voice and
work

William Saint George

Thu, 2012-01-26 07:17

William Saint George's picture

"...through derelict stained glass windows
I witnessed the rapture of cloud ballet..."

"...and you were busy white-washing
all the flavorless rape out of my mouth
so I could taste white nectarine's wet blossom across my pallet..."

Are these sexual references in the poem? As I read it over, it looks more like the poem is about sexual fulfillment.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

http://www.wsgeorge.com/

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