A Piece of me Unsure

A Suite in Four

 

Running away from women

running away from sense

escaping from dissections

they place in their despise.

Slide and cut and multiply

instinct mark their own

cut and run from all I've done

to warrant this defence.

 

Safety lies in being alone

complete is all the wait

to have what I do seldom wish

my conscience in this state

Do not compete they shoot at you

and never seek to hope

collect yourself inside your skin

determine yours to grope

for colours and your wishes grind

against this weary shore

when women want, then women get

a slice of you unsure.

 

II.

A Contest of Catharsis or why the poet and painter creates.

 

A shoal of words applies converged

upon a restless rhyme

An instance of the truth because

it matters more each time.

 

A letter being confounded seeing

the right before the wrong

A simple turn, a language burn

leave or stay, for long

 

Frighten away, what to say

a lack of all control

Surprise at last, with what has past

in all the stories told

 

Write them down, not to confound

but to get at all that's ill

scrape and maim, the tears that stain

the result this bitter pill

 

And finally ask, catharsis passed

the reasons are they honest?

the blessed speech, its hand unique

future controls the contest

 

 

 

III.

It comes, and sometimes goes, this fear of what he knows

This rakish sudden bliss of what isn't and what is.

The flying in one's heart as the knotting willed to start

of all he can accomplish in the language of his anguish

that wrings his neck and soul in the slip he once controlled.

of all the women learned, it is not what contact earned

He is sick of all this flesh, the reasons for this mess

Yet fathoms nothing new, the world revolved round you,

the one he cannot have, his symptoms up for grabs,

of love and taste and guts, he spews the contents up.

nothing sure under sun would chase this only one.

He often still considers sex to be his only best

The leopard and the spots that change for what he's got.

Now and never been, for all this jewelled sheen

of diamonds comes to shove; his art is cut this rough.

She does not care for once when fate lets only chance

He hates the slack hand weight that thinking she creates.

So leave it all gone by breath heavy let it lie.

Of course it comes so slow, as above then so below

For what considered love becalms eventual bluff

of this, that and another he would be less to bother,

of comfort in between his lack of conscience seen.

For if at once he's scared what then can be repaired?

He has no wishes left they are gone, locked up, bereft

For all that this was good, she did what she only could.

Complete the only way, not what I do, just what I say

In licking nerves of stress becomes what I do best.

 

IV.

Insane inside my head.

 

Useless, she just said.

Stop composing in your head

do something sane instead

of sitting there with blamed

words infesting in your mind

that are nothing but as you find

bits of voice or empty waste

and stink of poorly taste

earning nothing I call mine

with no money cannot buy

my future all but lie

insane inside your head

oh I wish that you were.....

 

 

oh I wish that you were.....

insane inside your head

my future all but lie

with no money cannot buy

earning nothing I call mine

and stink of poorly taste

bits of voice or empty waste

that are nothing but as you find

words infesting in your mind

of sitting there with blamed

do something sane instead

Stop composing in your head

Useless, she just said.

 

 

Reviews

[Gandré]

I liked the second stanza very much.. and I loved this:
And finally ask, catharsis passed

the reasons are they honest?

the blessed speech, its hand unique

future controls the contest------------so true! this is enrichment of my day.. you always have there kind of sentimental tone - but it didn't disturb me. the part IV. I understood as someone is trying to bring you away from art....and you have this urgent need to create... this was beautifuly sad.. I loved this poem.

[SM Davis]

She was born a b*****d's daughter and lives inside of fear. To listen is to allow her sting to poison your purity. You are alive and you are gifted. How long will you stand and watch your fire burn out before you realize that these words breathe life into you and all who read your words. You must refuse to buy what she is selling. She has no power over you.

[Emily B]

I remember the first words I read of yours. . . such a long time ago. I was so amazed at the intellect that could draw such cutting fiction that I requested your friendship right away. I have been amazed by your words many times since then. This piece is no exception.

The running away from and running back to . . . it is a vicious circle, isn't it? I don't understand how any woman that could appreciate the talents of your artists brush and your photographic eye, could then not love your writer's words. You are an artist through and through. No words to be left behind.

[Gandré]

I liked the second stanza very much.. and I loved this:
And finally ask, catharsis passed

the reasons are they honest?

the blessed speech, its hand unique

future controls the contest------------so true! this is enrichment of my day.. you always have there kind of sentimental tone - but it didn't disturb me. the part IV. I understood as someone is trying to bring you away from art....and you have this urgent need to create... this was beautifuly sad.. I loved this poem.

[Miss Shea]

*Mouth drops open* wow, Simm, this is wonderful. I can only imagine what is 'insane inside your head' as most poets are 'composing in their heads'.

This is amazing.

Keep writing - I would love to be struck by your words again. :]