Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Another poem, one of my darker ones

Another of the 'list poems' I was experimenting with a while back; I think, the most powerful of them, because of the underlying logic of the progression of images - the way it melds the stalker-ish obsession with lost love into such wider concerns as the artist's constant striving to create something lasting, the hopelessness we all feel in the face of mortality and oblivion, the ultimate vanity of self-assertion.

I've probably said too much by way of introduction again. I had promised myself I was going to try to stop this. Tulsa, reprove me.

See what you think of it.



I Write My Name

I write my name
I write my name in dew on windows
And in dust on table-tops

Once I wrote poems, stories, songs
But now I mostly write my name

I write my name
On the e-mails you delete without reading
And on the postcards I do not dare to send

I write my name in spray-paint
On the apartment building opposite yours

I write my name in semen on your breasts
I write my name in blood on your bathroom wall

I write 'I love you'
I write 'I hate you'
I write 'Die, bitch!'
I write 'Forgive me...'
I write my name

I write my name in letters of flame
A thousand feet high
Glowing across the desert

I write my name
In the sand on the beach
And sit and wait
For the tide

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

First, this could be lyrics to a song. From the start, i read it with the music to **** playing in my head. And the way it progresses from innocent possesiveness to possessive obsession is very song-like. The last bit calms it down a bit - even as it conveys the message of the author himself disappearing into nothingness - eternal calm.

have you been watching the news? (or reading?) Did you see what happened at Virg. Tech? Or read about the man who did it?

You do have a dark side. I think we all do, but artist's dark sides are more obvious - since it seeps into their art and creates lasting pieces to reminds us of the darkness. In non-artists, the darkness peeps its head out occasionally in conversation or mannerisms, but the moment passes and our selective memories forget.

Was writing this song cathartic for you? Did you feel better? Or did you just feel spent and exhausted without satisfaction?

Second, it's a hard job to reprove you for that which I am happy you provide. But I see your point.

I often subconsciously read into your pieces explanations that you provide as a lead-up.

But if you provided no explanation and I commented first, then I'd worry that you're comment-based explanations would be colored by my remarks - as you explained the piece in reaction to what I saw in it, instead of what you intended as you wrote it.

I have too much an interest to properly reprove you.

Third, I did not name the song **** from which I borrowed the tune to play in my head as I read your poem because, as you know, I am musically illiterate. The tune is in my head now and you're welcome to take a peek inside and try to identify it if you can. And yes, I understand that this entitles you to a certain amount of music-based snobbery - go ahead - turn your nose up at me - maybe I should no better - but I don't. Whatch'ya gonna do about it?

Anonymous said...

Oh, did I forget to mention that I like it? It's catchy. Dark, but catchy. A bit scary and worrisome, but catchy.

Now I have an MTV video playing in my head. With you strumming your guitar and singing...

Yes, definitely song material.

Froog said...

I don't really see how it works as a 'song', and I certainly didn't conceive it as one. It doesn't have the repetitive structure of a song. The variations in line length and sudden shifts in mood make it unsuitable for that medium, I think.

Intrigued to know what your soundtrack to it is, though.

No, haven't seen any news recently. Has there been another campus shooting spree? Very sad.

You probably don't know The Boomtown Rats either, do you? Brilliant Irish punk band of the late '70s. They had a British No 1 with a song called "I Don't Like Mondays" (which I have quoted on the blog before), inspired by one of the first of these incidents.