Into the Wilde

Addicted to puns in titles? You've come to the right place...

 

Why did you hang

the infamous burning monk

on your bedroom wall -

your parents could never comprehend

intentions, good or bad;

 

they probably envisioned your

future consisting of heroics

and fire engines,

 

instead of the martyrdom

you were aspiring towards.

At least, that’s how I saw it.

 

There were still Blu-Tac marks

on the wall from where

you must have ceremoniously

peeled away Buffy’s piercing stare

in order to replace her

with a vague message.

 

Your politics phase, they called it

down the pub: absorbed in Marx

and Engels while we licked the salt

from packets of peanuts

and argued over which track

was worth letting the jukebox rob us

of a quid.

 

How they smirked at each other

across their pint glasses!

What were you again, my friend –

apart from an arsehole [that goes without

saying] – a Communist Buddhist or a

Liberal Atheist Feminist?

Flavour of the month, ha ha.

 

I’d laugh along, but weekday evenings

saw me sinking into a bean bag

with Rousseau and Mills;

dipping my toe in the ripples

of your awakening.

 

I was learning

that intelligent people are overwhelmed

daily by their own ignorance, thus

your inconsistencies were a sign

of growth; this

was beyond their grasp,

our Carling-swigging set -

 

hence all the secrets:

whole passages underlined,

annotated in your hand; the times

I slipped into the back rows

of lecture halls; delving into

the rear aisles of musty

second-hand book shops…

 

Working-class

politics:

the love that dare not

speak its name.

Author's Note

Ending is a bit abrupt - any suggestions please? Thanks.

Reviews

[lark]

Mmm yeah. We do things for love, attraction... Ride bicycles, juggle flames. As far as the last three lines go, I have no idea. I think for all their uselessness, you may as well just not have them. Miss Burns is right.

(my friend's in some sort of blog group thing called Girls Gone Wilde. i heart puns :)

Why did you hang
the infamous burning monk
on your bedroom wall -
your parents could never comprehend
intentions, good or bad;

... This is a great way to begin. I know a girl who played "Chocolate Jesus" to disrupt her mother's calm. Reminds me of that ha.

[Sarah B.]

drinking in bars is bad, especially when you have a love interest.

(on that note....too much talk goes down the drain with each drink,

most of it was quite well written though, reading between the lines).

[Hedra Helix]

2 in the mornin, I'll be here tomorrow and hook you up proper, promise.

[Emily B]

i don't know that the last three lines are entirely necesary . . . but knowing how you agonize over every word, they surely have their place and need to be there. Your voice has grown, it's drawing these big pictures, portraits, things a painter could never catch. I like this very much.