Weathered statues

"T.S.O.L."

Cold inside,

moss and algae warm/worm my stone

                                                    ( like bones )

parasitic lovers

sucking out remnants/ rembrantz

of innocence

and spitting out my seed

a porous heart

marble stained

poured concrete emotions,

the basalt mind

diamond fine

petrified, volcanic,

staring, unblinking

into saline vented (crusted) eyes

Cold inside

poison ivy tickles/teases/ tastes skin

                             (dead skin)

a silent scream;

just once for sanity

and twice for

left behind,

the granite heart

sand and stone, crushed

charcoal emotions, squeezed

                                     tight

looking for substance

or egress points of some kind

in the calcification

of me, 

Cold;

Reviews

[Eilis]

You know, music is one of those things that makes me instantly a former version of myself. And in becoming that former version, I inhabit all those feelings that shaped that version. I'm trying to confuse you so I don't have to say what this poem really made me think.

It's like my duck poem...except...say TSOL, and...I'm this dumb little teenager being duped by predatory guys in a dark alcove behind an inner-city grocery. It takes some learning to learn that people don't want us for what we are, but for what they want us to be. The song and the poem both lay it out in different ways, but we are often only objects set somewhere in a world where we aren't quite sure how to go beyond the golem and become the full-human.

I don't know, Gram. This has all the things I like about your poems. The bare feeling, the pagan allusion, the natural world intermixing with the human to make some new place. There is pain and regret, desire to express something inexpressible, and doing well. We make our own places, and then we fit, I guess. At least some days. Some stone rises over the all the houses and sees everything for miles.

I'm still trying to sound like I'm saying something. This is my poetry defense...I'm not the strongest on the field.

[gram linski]

once again, Eilis, you got the musical reference your c.d. collection must be as fucked up and eclectic as mine, as Chuck D would say bring the noise,

[barleygirl]

When I do Halloween writing (or poems about wasted lives) it's as an exaggerated outlandish spoof. I wish I could do dreadful writing as a reflection of real intensely-dripping life, like this. Your msg is just dramatic enuf to feel a little beyond everyday suffering, but then again, everyone has felt this way, a time or two, I would wager to say. Sometimes the best defense against those pesky buried emotions is to become a weathered statue for the rest of my days . . . *sigh!* Fondly, Margie

[gram linski]

gee, thanks Margie, I am so glad my dreadful writing got a "sigh" from you, that must be a first whatever happened to the fond hugs, :(

[barleygirl]

If not for a pond 'tween us, I'd be happy to bump & grind big time with you, baby! *wink! wink!*

[gram linski]

Soundtrack; The Doors, surely we can sxtxt or go on bump and grinder or figure out how to work yon camera thing, lol

[Robert Trakofler]

Gram I had to come back to this one several times but what I glean is the living monuments of humanity in sacrifice are so easily forgotten save for the few that join them and bleed for the consonant streams and in this the decay turns to a display immemorial

[gram linski]

that's definitely not what I got from it, and I wrote the f****r, awesome review, a poem in it's self, possibly a wee bit too formal for you, I do review s**t at the wkend, will get back to you, cheers

[jacob erin-cilberto]

what an ending...and okay...here is where this took me...those love bones getting brittle from too much heartbreak...the heart gets harder, colder as the years wear on....when parasitic lovers take advantage...
the emotions are squeezed out of us for sure.
looking for calcification or some sense of it all.
great poem, gram.
j.

[gram linski]

Thanks, j. always appreciate your insightful, delightful reviews,

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Wow gram, you certainly encapsulate amazing descriptions of stone statues in this flowing piece and if one looks for allegorical references there is a man who feels empty and cold in there.

[gram linski]

Thanks John, stone feels just ask any sculptor, they bend to the whim of the stone, amen,