Acclimated Disquiet

Lines for Sunday--Acclimated Disquiet

ABORTION
Heralded the harked angels, or the
Accepted herald himself, now
Place just happenstance, now
Animals just happy, a song far
lashed to the mast with a woman.
Amelia Bedilia liked petunias,
More plays for children to admire.
Ears leant toward the speakers,
Look forward to what you see,
Attentive to normalcy, to culture,
Can I figure out how to interpret,
How to be an American or wife,
Understanding love, what it is…
Tragicomedy is reality, maturity,
Improvised emotion spurred by
Torpid hours, memories of fear.

ABORTIONIST
 
Memory of fear of rejection,
Escape of habit, noticing
Vitreous surfaces, surroundings.
A representation of lives or
Trimmed possibilities. Sandman
Sprinkles sand in my eyes,
Every blank is just a puzzle,
A series of scientific waves.
 
Have a Coke, they said, Have an
Aspirin.  There are no social
Problems except they’re different.
A judgment from the church, a
Love for truth and beauty, here
On the sofa in front of the TV,
The sun shines through windows.

More romance, less; movies an
Escape into crashed vehicles or
Viscous vivisections. Crushed to
Accept that he couldn’t feel
The same towards me at the same
Sandman. Meaning can change;
Expansion of definition, a scene,
A door is opened, someone opens
 
Home, the divorced couple w/ two
Adorable children, the belief in a
Person to always be there for you;
A loss of faith, thinking that none
Lose love, the broken society with
Ongoing shifts in law, or patterns,
The behaviors we mock or copy.

ABORTIVE
Copy or mark or mock to improve,
On this Sunday I will again punch a
Sandbag not to have to explain
Hyperbole, that we cannot make
Expression the real, but to call up
Lychee flavored coconut water.

Reviews

[Rene Salinas]

Aren't I glad I came across your writings Laura. Been busy lately and it has taken me the pleasure of reading so when I just found this really out of reciprocity I smile as I read. I think I went through most of your writings in one go, trying to figure out the system so to speak, trying to travel through your frame of mind. There is something very peculiar at work in your writings, if they were to be musical they would be a sonata. They carry imagonative thinking. So as one reads the scene gets created internally and the bastraction renders a concept. This writing specifically then carries within the disatisfaction, the endless desire for external forces to convince us of something that we know very well it cannot be. Excerpts of relationships which do not fill one another. Used phrases and used emotions but with very litle meaning. Unfulfilling really and hence they trigger frustration and metaphorically speaking one could let out by punching a bag. Physically too if one prefers.

But your "style" is so predominant that they carry the words through very akin to rapid fire phtographic cameras transformed into words and then out together for the purpose of sense.

Greatly enjoyed

Thankyou

[Laura Lynn]

Thanks, Rene

[Workvio]

Why such confusion, chaos, and mind-boggling befuddlement in this societal world around us? Over the years, as the white hairs upon my head multiplied one, by one, by one, (take a look, they must be rabbit hairs) I came to the conclusion that we live in the DIS-information age. We are overwhelmed by, inundated with, literally drowning in, information. We assume that because it is called information that this means this information is therefore true. We base our beliefs, our standards, our goals, our ethics, and our morals upon information that has been marinated in the viewpoint-sauces of those who wish to tenderize our minds and hearts with their personal viewpoints, whether they be correct or tragically wrong. Hence, my use of the term DIS-information, as in DIS information be leading us astray today in every way, as if to insinuate that unborn children have committed some wrong worthy of death via abortion ... When in fact the wrongs that lead a woman to seek abortion are present and permeate our very core of society, our value system, our ethics, and our morals. Yet it is the unborn who pay the price for our crimes. Please allow me to say clearly: Men's crimes.

There was a time when a man who got a woman pregnant was expected, without question, to marry her, love her, and support her. Dad or some other relative would stand up like a real man and insure that he did so, and if he did not wish to do that which was right, then a sound beating would bring the man to his good, survival instinctive, senses. When the reluctant groom recovered enough to stand at the alter, the wedding would commence. Call that old fashion, yet is a far better solution than that of abortion ... Adoption is better than abortion ... Abstention is better than abortion ... And I do not peddle religion, though I have some personal views of my own, as we each do. I do peddle logic.

We live in an age infatuated with their own rights. We seem to possess the knowledge of every legal right we are given by government, yet in our selfish quest to assert our rights (both men and women) we have left off doing what is right.

Your poem stirs deep emotions in my heart. I have written many pieces on this controversial topic, and have met with strong opposition and opinion to my writing and my person. I am, I do stand, against unnecessary abortion (those which do not threaten the health or life of the woman involved).

Some will argue that the world is overpopulated already. What a selfish statement in view of the fact that we are here; have lived; experienced life; are living. We would deny this same opportunity and right to others--to the unborn? If the unborn are not innocent of any wrongdoing, crime, sin, what-have-you, then who upon this earth truly is?

If life were a Ferris-Wheel upon which we ride each day, having done so every day of our lives, would we not give up our seat to allow someone who had never ridden a Ferris-Wheel that wonderful experience and joy of riding one? If the world is that overpopulated, I would give up my seat of existence upon this planet to give one unborn child the opportunity to ride the Ferris-Wheel of life upon this earth. I would concede my rights if that is what it takes to do what is right, for the issue of abortion is not about rights at all, but about doing what is right, right by women, and right by the unborn ... The true shame lies upon the shoulders of us men ...

Thank you for a beautiful poem that stirred my heart to incessant babbling ... I hope and pray that I was offensive in no way, and if so, please forgive my meandering lines in seeking a time to be kind to the forlon unborn ...

Marvin Thomas Cox Flynn

[Laura Lynn]

Thanks, Marvin. I didn't realize how much this poem with the title could be read to be about Abortion as the reproductive kind. It's hard to know how many people actually have had abortions and how much of that is natural or induced by the medical profession. I have never had an abortion but I believe some mothers who already have children may have had this happen; I imagine that women who have never had the great blessing of giving birth in a safe manner, that is a grievous and very sad circumstance. I haven't studied medicine myself or hospital anything and it seems rather gruesome in many respects.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

abortion can cause ruination in relationships---resentment, disorientation of hearts...

that ghost that could have been a body...

gwendolyn brooks had a good line in her poem about it.."abortions never let you forget, the babies you got that you never got" or something like that...

a really heavy poem....

[The Twin Arenas]

"on this Sunday I will again punch a
Sandbag"

These things take all day for me to get after, and it's always worth it. Thanks.