"A Feeling Out Loud"
9-8-08
To savor our yearning out there,
To tell them its not heavy,
Look how they pray to "him."
Something new to find out for you too.
You're coveting old copper weathered death counters.
To even old yard-dogs,
I do sit in the depth of it all,
Under evil oceans.
And all for me,
They walked in grass,
And I came on a far.
Yes, asking of me,
"We got no dark way now?"
Leave this poor livin' lie,
I couldn't pray to me.
I asked you too.
I gave more than I had to.
Without the moon the golden dark
Closes in.
Oh gather me in.
Oh sprinkle moon,
Not under evil oceans
An all for not,
And are you hearing me?
Hooks in your love
Dealing with your life,
Giving in.
I Can do with out,
Tho I sought it out,
Hiking angles up.
It was truly a numbing sound.
A feeling out loud,
When I made this crowd.
So....It occurs to me that people may read these poems and not really know what the heck I'm talking about/think I'm nuts. Basically what I do is listen to music (sigur ros is best) and just kind of let words come to me free form, not knowing what it will be about until I start writing. Then after a few lines I know what its about more or less and it takes shape. This poem is kind of like an internal monologue of a God who isn't so sure about how everything turned out in the world he created and how he feels about his subjects.
Hopefully you can wrap your head around that. Believe me, I don't set out to write stuff like this, it is just what comes out. Hopefully you are starting to see the same patterns I am in my writing. I feel like my poetry is really starting to take on a shape and sound and I'm kind of proud of it.
I still don't get many responses about the poems, so I don't really ever know what people think... but I think they are what I want to sound like, so I'm going to keep writing them.
To see other poems of recent note check out "Salty Symphony" or "Awkwardly Simple"
1 comment:
I've never responded to one of your poems for the same reason you address.... I'm usually left lost at the end, feeling a little silly to admit that I have no frickin' clue what you're talking about :) A voice in me says it's a sign of a lack of intellect, and so I decide it's best to not say anything.
It's that linear way my brain thinks at times--in constant struggle between my left and right brain, it's a war inside my head trying to figure out if I should organize or create. Writing poetry for me is hard because I'll try to write freely, only to find my subconscious trying to write out some measured plans using rhymes, syllables, rhythms, themes, and deep meanings.
Well, all this to day, maybe the words and the order they're placed don't really carry the meaning of the poem or work of art. I listen to sigur ros often and feel stirred deeply in my soul somewhere. And yet, I can't understand anything I hear... in fact, they sing in a gibberish, made up language, anyway. So no matter what language course I take, nothing can translate the meaning of these words, yet they somehow still communicate with me....
just me... thinking. Hey, glad to see you're reading/liking my blog.
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