poems from the confessional

This is Constantine's artlog. He posted his poems in his own artlog forum for several years. He named the forum "Constantinople" and described it as "A byzantine journey through life's labyrinth."
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constantine
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poems from the confessional

Post by constantine » October 29th, 2013, 8:52 am

confessional poem #1

i used to suffer from chronic shyness
women were a big deal to me
i'd get nervous and stupid and then
warning alarms would go off in their head
like i was mr. goodbar or some fucking nut
i was a nut, but not a bad nut
a kind and gentle nut
like mr. peanut
only without the monocle
in highlandtown, where
this is and was taking place
you can't even wear a hat
without people gawking like you just got off the bozo bus
full of pretense - putting on airs
yes, i believe that was the expression
mom would call it having big ideas
which is more of the same
but with a twist that only mothers seem to possess
a gift of prophecy as old as dodona
where priestesses went barefoot
to be in touch with the sacred mom-mom
who was the source of their intuitive power
but i didn't need their intuitive power to know
that a monocle wasn't going to cut it
not in highlandtown or anywhere on the eastside
anyway, women were a big deal to me
but they always seemed to spook me out


confessional poem #2

in my last poem
confessional poem #1
i didn't really confess much of anything
i talked about women and how shy
and completely ineffectual
i can be sometimes, then
i made a big deal about their
"intuitive powers"
and then, i sort of flexed my mythological muscle
with an impressive, but somewhat extraneous
reference about the oracle at dodona
and the peculiar habits of the priestesses
going barefoot and never cleaning their feet
so as to always be in touch with the sacred mom-mom
i believe that was how i phrased it
so, as you can see if there was anything confessional
it was purely subliminal, perhaps
my idiosyncrasies will pop out anyway
like a schoolboy erection that always seemed to happen
when the teacher would call you to the front of the class
or when riding on the bus sitting next to an old lady
it's there, it's not going anywhere
whether i confess it or not


confessional poem #3

i must confess
my last two confessions
left something to be desired
but, in my defense
i was sort of new to the confession game
i never confessed to anyone before
simply put, i lacked the experience
but now that i've a few under my belt
i feel that i can do the job right!
so, i'll be back in a little bit
and confess stuff the likes of which
you have never heard before!


confessional poem #4

not sure about this confession thing
can i be held accountable?
could there be legal repercussions?
after all, some of my indiscretions
have been pretty indiscreet
there's that old lady in texas
and mr. spinoza in johannesburg
the swag sisters w/parrot - mutually of omaha
the infamous (yet somewhat tawdry)
circle k affair, not to mention
the little incident with the laws rocket
which i just fucking mentioned!
maybe i should let some of this shit slide
let bygones be bygones, let the sleeping cat
lick up the spilled milk that the skeleton in the closet
isn't going to worry about anyway
as it were


confessional poem #5

don't know why i started this confession crap
it's nobody's business who or what i've done
i don't see anyone doing me any favors
not that i mind sharing, i'm a generous guy
just this morning at the bus stop
some broken-down old fuckhead
offered to buy a smoke from me for fifty cents
and despite the fact that it was a damn good deal
i gave him one for free - out of the goodness of my fucking heart
yeah, from out of the down home fucking goodness of my motherfucking heart!
why don't we talk about that for a while
for once, let's talk about that


confessional poem #6

cut the crap, dino
we want confession, not this
fancy dan jitterbug shit
if you're going to confess
then do it or shut up about it!
the man makes a good point, dino
it serves no one's interest -
this incessant tap-dancing
like gene kelly on pcp
damn it, man
confess and be damned to it!
you should listen to this guy, dino
he makes strong sense in no uncertain terms
after all, floundering about like some teenage
dipshit with his scrotum stuck in his zipper
is that the image you want to convey?
buck up! show some moral fibre -
eat some shredded wheat or something
get back to basics - enunciate!
look, nobody asked you to confess anyway
you're the one who brought it up, but
instead of delivering the goods
you prefer to jockey about like erkel on crack
hemming and hawing, getting all cutesy
and mugging it up for cheap yuks, i mean
what the fuck, dino
why don't you grow the fuck up
swing for the big green monster
like they do in boston - at fenway
in fact, now that i think about it
there's a shitload of priests in boston
who could teach you the ins and outs of confession
instead of winging it like some crazy-ass jackdaw
you could be confessing your ass off with the big boys!



confessional poem #7

ding-ding!
lucky seven confessional
you said you wanted honesty
and, by crackers
honesty is what you'll get
but first, let's talk about dodona
if you remember, in confessional poem #1 and #2
i briefly elaborated on the ancient oracle at dodona
with its sacred oak tree and barefooted
priestesses who wouldn't wash their feet
for reasons i already explained
i find this curious though i'm not sure why
and it makes me feel uneasy, like
i'm missing something, something important
for such is the nature of oracles, you never
understand them until it's too late
years ago, i saw an old man on the bus
only today did i realize that it was me
imagine how i felt



confessional poem #8

hi! it's me again
ready to spill my guts
for your reading pleasure
and boy, do i have a story to tell
drugs, lust, betrayal
the old double-cross squared
grifter shit, driven by circumstance
necessity and wantoness-ness
some weirdo sexual deviancy
that even i can't understand
the list goes on and on
stuff you probably wouldn't believe
and therein lies the problem
once you read this and come to understand
the stygian depths of this scoundrel poet
how could you ever believe a word of what he says?
it's like the confession renders the confession void
the truth negates the truth - ipso facto!
so why the fuck do it in the first place

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Doreen Peri
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Re: poems from the confessional

Post by Doreen Peri » October 15th, 2014, 11:49 pm

good gawd, i miss you, Dino
where are you at? up there in heaven
confessing a bunch more stuff to give
the angels a laugh? I know you are...
just like you did here, but now you're
tap dancing around the throne itself,
you know, the big one up there where
the Big Guy himself sits and not only the
angels but the Man Himself is diggin' it
giving you the applause and guffaws you
yearn for, a standing ovation for sure
and He's saying "more more more!"
and praising your name for all the times
you made every frickin' sinner on this planet
laugh all night until dawn!

gawd, I miss ya, my friend... why'd you have to go?
but yanno what? you're still here, yeah you are...
'cause you're a star, man, and every time i look up
at the cosmos I see you shining
and even when I'm too lazy to look up,
here you are shining in my heart.

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