Ventilation

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YABYUM
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Ventilation

Post by YABYUM » July 18th, 2005, 4:28 pm

I wrote this piece about three years ago, maybe four. When I read it at a poetry reading, I was, for the most part, bood of stage. I didnt even get to finish it. I'm not sure if I ever posted it on LK's. I did read it an event in Michigan, and I think I was given a sincere, yet tiny, amount of applause. Its not that I seek applause, nor do I seek a pat on the back. I just thought I would post this on Studio Eight because A few people liked it on another sight I tried it out on, and it really is one of my fucking favorites. So, light a smoke, read it, and tell me what you think.


VENTILATION


I want to tell you how my soul was ripped to pieces, tiny fucking bits
Do you remember the night that time stood still?
When my eyes took in your sight after one long month.
When my arms reached for your embrace.
When my body, for the first time in four years, was denied reception.
When my hands wanted to slap my face, for wanting to beat my own body to death.
You must remember.
You were there.
Remember?
I have heard stories from people that have never spoken to me before, about that one fucking moment.
You were there.
Remember?
I reached.
I hugged.
You stayed stiff, kept your arms out to the side.
I looked at you with all the mind eye that my soul had to give
I said, “I really need to talk to you, please come outside?”
You said…..”o.k.”
I walked for the door
Got outside, leaned against the wall, and lit a smoke.
Inside I was preparing all the words to do their job, to come out right, to go forth and shake your heart into submission.
What did you do?
You left me outside. Waiting. Wondering.
You remember what happened next?
You were there.
You must remember.
I walked back inside;
saw you standing next to him, along side that fucking video game.
That game you said I paid more attention to than you.
I walked through the force field shield that you and he had pre planned,
thinking I wouldn’t even try.
I looked you in your eyes, you started to cry, then ran for the bathroom.
You sent me an e-mail the next day saying that you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Thanks for fucking me.
I wrote this for you.
Listen, because you were there.






I was seconds from the door
Almost out, on the way to that night’s home
Then your eyes appeared from out of a crowd that suddenly vanished
My feet became concrete
My heart stood silent when my eyes realized your hand was inside of his
I knew I should have left earlier
Something inside told me that you would show up the moment I was drunk
You are a knife in my heart
I fear if I pull you from my flesh,
that my soul will drip drops until my body finally agrees to die
did you enjoy leaving me in the rain?
Did I cross your mind as that hour flew by?
I was there.
Right where you said to be.
It’s better this way.
All these people, everyday, saying words, I know they don’t understand
I need my own planet
I need my own air
I need my own language
I need some thing that I cannot find, and am sure, no one else has discovered
Me? I know what comes from stealing
Me? I know what comes from faith
I am bent
I am spent
I am shattered
I do not matter
I am tired
I am a liar
My insides are on fire
I do not want to show this world
Any fucking bit of a smile
Whatever comes next in this labyrinth that is life, does not bother me
It’s what we’ve left behind that kills me
Kills my every waking moment
Years, spent like change inside a dirty old couch
I cannot find a book that contains the words or rimes
Able to make my bleeding heart feel mended
I cannot find a song that moves a melody through my ears
Perhaps even cause a smile
I cannot find another human being, any place that I travel,
that is worth one bit of my verbal, depressed energy
I cannot find an outfit able to show a confident man behind the clothes
Confidence went and committed suicide
I cannot find a blue shade, or tone of color, when looking upon the ocean
Colors left my eyes, sometime in late august

I cannot find an hour, where I am not thinking about the passing minutes,
Running seconds, taking days from off the length of my existence
My heart is out
It spoke up nice and loud
“I CANNOT PUMP ANYMORE OF THIS PAIN FILLED bullshit!
Dreams, I realize I cannot nor need to escape from
Dreams I awake in the middle or bitter end of
Holding a pillow close, though I know it not be you
Blankets are no match to the heat that your sweet, petite, body did radiate
Toes, when mine where cold
Though they only reached the first muscle after my knee
Hands, that loved to slap my ass, while calling out my name
And words like love, faster, and forever
Breasts that you possess, not a line of mine nor any word, created by man
Could ever fully express
But alas
I fell
I fell to pieces
I fell from grace
I fell from what I thought was heaven
Didn’t die
Just got hurt
Now I am trying to stand upon these feet
Pull my bootlaces as tight as these arms can pull
Smile drawn
Like lines I cross
It’s been months now
Broken down into minutes
Life has become moments that streak by in a whirlwind of colorless distortion
Demons thinking in my mind, I cannot entertain
I slay these thoughts with a fiery sword
Notes I have written, I want to, but can never get back
From heart to mind filtered out through this ink that runs through my veins
Demon in a child hood, dancing on my chest
Demon in a child hood, drawing out my breath
Demon in a child hood, asking for my surrender
Cannot, even if I really thought I should
So many times I have tried
Even thought for one long moment, that I wanted to, and needed to
fucking die
the beds gotten larger
I’ve gotten colder
Smiles are fake
Love is just a word
What a joke

I laugh when I remember all the words, sounding like promises
That you and I had the heart to say
Nights we used to share
Games we played
Kisses that we loved to name
YOU LIED
YOU GAVE UP
YOU LEFT FIRST
I did nothing, except love in the only way I knew
I did nothing, except try; you saw that in my eyes
I did nothing except hold my hands around your waist and savor the taste
That moment time stood still, your eyes were see through
Now, your face, an ugly fucking disgrace
You looked like shit, standing next to him
I cried and vomited all the way home
Why the arrows dipped in poison?
You left me there. Wondering what it was that I had done.
You deserve what you had holding your hand
Poetry was always too deep for you
My words to big
My theories, far to grand
My eyes, to real for a little girl like you to stare into
All wrapped up in your blind reality
Sheltered from the world inside of your family tree
Always will you be too afraid to see what truly is real
Always will you live in a world that does not contain evil people
Where there are no souls who may not be able to hold their tree so tight
Never did deserve a poet at night
Un kissable lips, smeared with lies
I see you further down the spiral road
Head in hands
Pushing inside, those lies, spoken through your filthy eyes
I have found it easier to hold contempt
Than to keep believing that we could ever be again,
those two inseparable lovers of the past
amazing and sad, how now
I see an ugly side of you
Soulless inside
Thanks for fucking me
At least I can say that I came.
I saw.
Goodbye.
http://frombeerstobabies.blogspot.com/

YABYUM
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Joined: August 30th, 2004, 7:35 pm
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...

Post by YABYUM » August 13th, 2005, 4:47 am

nineteen views.
no replies. no replys.
it is just as good as when i read it. :D
http://frombeerstobabies.blogspot.com/

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mousey1
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Post by mousey1 » August 13th, 2005, 11:07 am

Hi yabyum. Do you want help with this piece to make it better or are you completely satisfied with it as is?

To me it is a love letter, poignant certainly in parts, definitely filled with deep emotions. I could certainly feel your pain, your anguish. I was definitely moved by it; however, and I say this ever so gently as I know it is close to your heart, a very personal piece, I think it could use some more rendering.

I'm no great shakes as a writer but I know what I like and I think I can see where certain things don't really work at least for me, either redundancies, or perhaps some unnecessary wordiness, that sort of thing. I'd love to see you brush up on this one, polish it up, make it shine. It's a worthwhile piece and I know you can make it great.

You might want to think about popping it into the Interpretation section here. You'll get critique and possibly some helpful suggestions.

Sometimes poems are just completely a personal expression of special feelings and moments in time. Laid out raw like a fresh wound. It's yours and you don't want it messed with...and that's fine, this is why I didn't comment previously, but since you apparently want to share it with others I seriously think you might want to do a little more work on it. It can only make it better.
I used to walk with my head in the clouds but I kept getting struck by lightning!
Now my head twitches and I drool alot. Anonymouse

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Doreen Peri
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Post by Doreen Peri » August 13th, 2005, 12:16 pm

They booed you?

Where'd you read it?

That's just not polite! :)

Do you think that was because the audience perceived a cliche in "Love? what a joke!" and the story of being rejected?

I donno but I'd love to hear you recite it ...

They didn't throw fruit at you or anything, did they?

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tinkerjack
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Post by tinkerjack » August 13th, 2005, 1:01 pm

First on a personal note
Women are a force of nature; only meteorologists and poets can understand their ways.
I tried to imagine what she was thinking, standing there with her arms by her side. She did not put her hands out to stop the hug; did she say no I don’t want you to hug me? Or was it a about power? She wanted you to hug her and she wanted to show you that your sex had no power over her? No idea where that came from. I been there I have done that, but only because in one case I was solipsizing a woman and once again because I was to blind to see she had lost that loving feeling because I was such an inconsiderate jerk. Or was it she was just some woman on a man trip?



I keep thinking there are two poems there yabyum

One that lies on the printed page

Another that gypsyjoker listens to with his text to speech converter

I wonder how it sounds when you read it.

I think you should give some thought to the lines as they appear in print.

"…surrounded by stacks of incomprehensible books with huge formulas inset artistically on the page like poems.”

.
Bottom line I spoke it out and it howls. I think I would have made a lot of noise if I had been in Michigan, finger snapping and one hand clapping.
But I don’t know jack shit about poetry.


M1 got more knowledge about poetry in her pinky finger than I got in my head. Maybe she got an idea,

exactly my thoughts DOreen, I would like to hear it too.

YABYUM
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.....

Post by YABYUM » August 19th, 2005, 10:32 am

Mousey.....I agree with polishing it up a bit. Tinkerjack is actaully right on the money. This is the result of my cutting lines and stanzas from at least six different poems anout that break up. I wanted one complete, difinitive statement that just help me vent it all out. Maybe its worth another try. I'd like to write my 'bomb' with this time frame in my life.
Doreen, it was at a little place in Jersey called the Saint.
Tinkerjack, that line you quoted....where did that come from?
That is a statement that I have thought millions of times. I keep wanting to throw all my notebooks into the sea, but I always talk myselvs out of it.....as for the "hugging" incident.....there was no indication of please don't hug me. We knew everyone at the pub where this happened. We had been hanging out there as a couple for four years. So it was pretty awkward to see her walk in with another man, escecially since we'd only broken up 3 weeks earlier.
But, I dygress....I hafta leave for work now.

Thanks for your comments.
http://frombeerstobabies.blogspot.com/

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