toomuch

when it became too much.

when it became too much without the intimacy of trust,

I lay bare on my sovereign bed of nails. 

when it became too much I keyed his car'

then sobbed interminably.

when it became too much

anthemion, I twisted the floral form

from the sculpture of Venus.

when it became too much

I cheated on my taxes.

when I got caught cheating, still

it wasn't too much.

when love became too much

like rubbing alcohol on my anti-war posters

in my afro ascribing human characteristics.

I cured all ailments with a clinched fist but only

when it became too much.

when it became too much

I moved in with my sister and her roaches.

when that became too much, I fostered my own

roaches. when hate came knocking on the door

became too much, I answered through the peep hole

first. second, broken, I let him in. 

then when the anti-woman came roaring from

behind the iron stove in my culottes 

feeding the wedlock child,I turned

strawberry island. when

resolve became too much I hit at it with a stick.

violence is never the answer they tell me, so i

slid it  in between the old couch cushions.

when being ugly became too much

I lit my face on fire. 

when loneliness became too much

I iced down my vagina with a cold Pepsi.

when the child became too much

I changed the locks. with a straw I was able

to suck out a beautiful future.

when he kicked the door down and killed me

it had become too much.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This poem so exquisitely describes the feeling of becoming fed up (with anything), it feels like a celebration of frustration, a liberation of exasperation, a few moments when we give ourselves permission to say (without worrying about what it might shake down upon oneself by saying so): YEAH! This has been too much bullshit for too long! I normally do not like repetition, but you have nailed it perfectly, as far as knowing when the emphasis is well-advised. Some of your metaphors have blasted off to another galaxy. Happy Easter to you & your loved ones (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[h d e rushin]

thank you so much love for your support and your intelligence....dana

[Robert Trakofler]

Dana you... are, too much!!!!!!
Your ability to make words resonate so damn powerfully is simply stunning as is your myriad metaphors:)
The display of the endless resilience in the tribulations is in these especially trying times is a testament to this poets tenacity! I don't need to say it to you but I will anyway... hang tough my sister poet:)

[h d e rushin]

thank you my friend//for those kind words...I appreciate all and everything you say....dana

[Lydia Shutter]

A very dark tale, but one that I believe is an honest one. When does it become too much? When can we not take one more thing? Will it be when we die? The imagery creates a scene of desperation and poverty and woe. Dana, your poetry has always been powerful. I was pleased to see that continues. Be well. Lydi**

[h d e rushin]

I am trying to be well Lydia what with a 89 year old mother who wants to run out of the house and a cat that wonders why he cant be left alone. Thank you my dearest for your kind remarks...dana

[Lydia Shutter]

Dana, I took care of my mom for five years. She passed when she was 94. It is not an easy job, but I will tell you I have never regretted it. The last years of your mom's life will be special because of you. Hang in there, Dana. Know that you are doing the right thing.

[Moonie]

Wow, this was mindblowing! I feel like this would make for great spoken word poetry, and you should give that a shot.
I loved the tempo of this poem, the amazing rawness, and the brilliant metaphors and personifications you used.
Gonna put this one in my favorites! ❤

[h d e rushin]

thank you my love for those words of encouragement ...I am a huge fan of yours....dana

[Emily B]

It feels like you wrote this for me today. Maybe not. But here I am anyway. Much love.

[h d e rushin]

I write everything for you and because of you....glad your being safe.....love , dana

[Emily B]

Take good care of you. It matters.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"my own roaches"
and i fed them because they became my only company...until it was too much and put them in motels so they would check in, but never out.
i like that you did this from the female perspective...how life gets to be too much....how it was for us back in the sixties, when war was too much...we loved too much...cried too much...lived too much, until we didn't--
and what the hell killed our spirit...? something did...
this is like Leroi Jones mixed with Ginsberg....Howling along with afros blowing in the wind.
great, great write...I just love this kind of poetry....
it expresses so much deeply, and slips off the tongue like frustrated spit in your eye.
j.

[h d e rushin]

it was a great time to be a listener even if we were too young to be writers ourselves..."We loved too much then Jacob, cried too much, lived too much until we didn't ". great thought....thanks my friend...dana