Gasoline

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  We tried to fix up a home,

a two car garage, white picket fence, with a flower bed.

 

 Surely we could not have known,

our diminutive secrets carried by termites would spread.

An infestation grows within these walls like a dam under pressure.

 

 CONTORTING.......

 

((((Swelling))))

 

From all of our weight, and untimely measure.

 

Rusting pipes from my leaking tears.

 

There are no curtains to hang,

we're made vulnerable by these transparent shears.

The neighbors looking in,

wondering who is to blame.

                                       

Even with more primer and paint,

I cannot make these walls talk.

I cannot make you a Saint.

 

The ceiling is falling in...... 

This plaster is crumbling down.

 

So I will restore this home with gasoline,

and light a match to wipe the walls clean....

Reviews

[VennelaMargame]

Can I go on an allusion tangent again, Muse?

The beginning reminded me a little of the song "No Surprises" by Radiohead. "Such a pretty house / and such a pretty garden....I'll take the quite life / a handshake of carbon monoxide..."

If you've ever heard the song, you know the sort of heady, balloony feel that the diminished sixth and seventh tones give it. Sort of like what happens when you inhale the vapors of gasoline.

P!nk also had a song about wanting to "burn this f****r down," if I recall, because it was full of bad memories. It was called "Funhouse."

I once wrote a short story called "My Name is High Hopes," written from the perspective of the famous Amityville murder house, in which the house explained that it IS cursed, because it's forced to watch its humans screw up their lives and make each other miserable, and then get blamed for it because it is a big, dumb, defenseless object, and cannot speak up for itself.

[Lyn Anderson]

Oh, this is brilliant, and dark, and perfect. I can't help it, the more I read, the more I like, the more I binge -- I feel about your words the way I feel about potato chips -- never enough.

[Joyce S. Greene]

Sounds like that house was an explosion waiting to happen even before you bought the gasoline, Muse. Another very striking poem - just don't strike that match before running for your life!

[Renée]

Great One Cobra! What we see as perfect never is... the last two lines finish it perfectly!

[Angi]

It is there for all to see, the wreckage tumbling down and the bugs infesting us. The last lines! Oh. Love them.

[The Girl That Let You G..]

This is such a strong, and moving write. Nicely penned, love it!

[carol burgess romance]

powerful words..filled with emotion..many times I feel the same way about my dodge caravan..nothing a can of gasoline won't fix

[Ryan]

interesting metaphor. when all else fails, destroy any evidence that you tried in the first place, eh? I like the formatting here, and the rhyme scheme. very interesting... :)

[Muse]

it was an experiment with free flow write, and recklessness.

[icelandicblue]

This is really powerful. It's fraught with tension and greater questions- what do we do when we are not safe in our own space? How do we cope with the onlookers who try and find a seamier side of our lives. Fire purifies- the choice has been made.

[Muse]

thank you, your comments are always insightful, it's always good to see you.

[icelandicblue]

It is good to see you as well.