Real People Are Real Saints

The real people are the one's written out of history and uncelebrated. Inspired partly by Jeanne d'Arc, Nana, Mouchette, Billy Casper, John Merrick and Amelie Poulain.

Sometimes it rains, sometimes I forget

Sometimes I remember everything.

At times neither living nor dying,  

All I know is all we have left is time to kill.

One day I see the world no more,

Till even my own thoughts are drowned out. 

All I see and hear is you, till oneday I'm no more

And the world beats me forcing it's will upon me.

Maybe I'll forget you, maybe you'll forget me,

Maybe we'll fall out of love. Memories don't die 

They change never born, never dying always changing.

Memory is an overfed artist

Recreating the same painting over and over,

Till the colours become different colours,

All the faces become faceless

And the scenery becomes like any other scenery.

True failure is the fear of risking failure, 

A heart lost in a fantasy is like a long distance love unrealised.

Reality is like a ghost train for dreamers, 

A tear in a dream is like a tear in a film felt closer but unreal.

Chances and mistakes are meant to be made,

Some of the worst crimes of life are not actual crimes.

One of the worst crimes of life is not grabbing a chance when time allows you,

Letting time merely pass, neither dying nor living and not learning from human mistakes.

Sometimes it stops raining, but I never forget some things

Sometimes time feels like it's stopped but everything moves on.

Real saints are real people, written out of history.

True failure is the fear of risking failure. 

Sometimes reality smacks you in the face,

Sometimes you have to smack what's real into other faces

Because to some "the unselfish, outsiders and gentle souls

are the real life saints of this world".

Author's Note

Think of yourself as a character in my poem.
Just like how the audience becomes a character
in Jean-Luc Godard's Vivre Sa Vie. When Anna Karina (Nana)
goes to a theatre to see a silent film called La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc.
Where we watch Nana watching Jeanne d'Arc
being tried for heresy and condemned to burn at the stake.
Seeing tears fall from Joan of Arc's face and then tears falling from Nana's
as she watches Joan sentenced and burnt at the stake.
The moment a spectator becomes a carer.
A real person, you wouldn't associate with being a saint becomes a saint
in that moment becoming one with Joan. And then the scene is over
and it's as though it never happened. Till Nana's death,
where we're merely spectators again.

For me ordinary people are more saintly than any of the Saints.
And Che Guevara in many senses should be celebrated as a Saint.
As a working class people's Saint.

Reviews

[Katie]

This is a good poem. It feels a lot like someone is just slapping a lot of phrases together, as opposed to being centered around one main idea. Which isn't really a bad though, although its not generally my favourite type of poetry. That being said the only lines I don't like are:
"Recreating the same painting over and over,
Till the colours become different colours,
All the faces become faceless
And the scenery becomes like any other scenery."
I like the first and the last one, but compaired to "all the faces become faceless" it seems like the line " Tll the colors become different colors" is kind of lacking. it reminds me of when someone starts a sentence then has no idea how to finish it, so the end kind of...lamely. Admittedly, even as an artist I can't think of a better way to finish that sentence other than maybe "Till the colors become faded" though I'm not positive that is not really what you were going for. I feel similarly about this line "And the scenery becomes like any other scenery."


For the technicals:

At times neither living or dying,
Should be
At times neither living nor dying,

And the world beats me forcing it's will upon me.
There should be a comma after me.

[Stef Outsiders]

I don't know have the people you know but that was one amazing poem!!

[A.Lee]

"Memory is an overfed artist
Recreating the same painting over and over,
Till the colours become different colours,
All the faces become faceless
And the scenery becomes like any other scenery."

I love that part. Very well written. You have an excellent way with words, and I love that your poetry is not the "same old same old" like the majority of work we see here. It's introspective. Full and rich. Very well written.

[Sweets]

This is wonderful...
I loved the last stanza..
Such a great poem!