old, raunchy lovenotes

Thursday, August 21st, 2008
1:00 pm - static garbage, the trucks can only salvage
my bones.
white sheets and brown legs, you snored
your way through ecstasy, everything
was
IN ITS RIGHT PLACE
and you missed it.
6 a.m. sneaking through mansions of my desire, starting up my car with no headlights through a dark avenue
writing about your real life helps, they say
but masking your words works better.
it smelled like the basement, a basement that keeps secrets
musty cigarettes, painted canvas, cardboard limbs
I REMEMBER
your lips and your eyes
so delicately unconscious under the haven
of slumber
that you seemed dead.
I've tried to paint it
everynight, in my room. I've tried to claim it
everynight since.
If you could see
where I've been
you would love me.
If you could see more than an ugly face
and frizzy hair
and unkempt nails
you would know somewhere I am beautiful.
I like writing poems that no one should ever read
because I feel like Bukowski
.
women will have playthings, and men, mistresses;
women will moan in fake ecstasy while their cigarettes dangle limply between tanned
hands and manicured fingernails
and the husbands will mow the lawns in tennis shoes and polos
waiting for the moon to rise, beating off in the closet
while their wives grow fat
and ugly and bitter.
and I will sit here with my pillows and books
and paintings and ceramics
and cry
for the rest of my life
pretending that
EVERYTHING IS IN ITS RIGHT PLACE.


this is an old blog entry of mine I just found. fascinating how things never change :p

oh.....my.....goodness!

Wow! I'm speechless!

This seems like two personas very much alive in different rooms of the same house simultaneously.

It reads like a scar healed from the outside, underneath which is an open wound.

Your signature Bukowski quote following apropos.

thanks ampoule, pen, and ff--I especially liked your comment about a scar healed from the outside, that was really a beautiful description.

love
paper

"I've tried to paint it
everynight, in my room. I've tried to claim it
everynight since."

I think those lines sum up my own reading of the poem. Artists and poets may be able to capture a feeling, but in the end feeling is fleeting and unownable (and yes, I know that isn't a word but I quite like it)...

Wow. And Wow again. This is awesome, paperleaves. It fills me with so many feelings. Just wonderful.

thank you, Sampson, that was what I felt was the climax of the poem because (as all of you are well aware) that feeling is the most frustrating!

and thank you, Granny5 :) I appreciate your kind words!


in kindness
paper

seems like sculpting where, as time goes by, the pieces that prevent what you would like to emerge, are more evident. this is raw poetry.

I'd say you're a natural at confessional! I loved every word but really fell in love with the author here:

Quote:

---

If you could see
where I've been
you would love me.
If you could see more than an ugly face
and frizzy hair
and unkempt nails
you would know somewhere I am beautiful.
I like writing poems that no one should ever read
because I feel like Bukowski

---

Thank you cogs and sophia! By the number or replies I received on this poem from a year ago, I'd say I need to read up on my old works and learn from how I used to write, because it's been tougher lately to convey emotion like this. Thank you for all the feedback, guys! :):)

Eff around! How did I miss this until now?
There are some things in it that are EVEN BETTER than other things in it:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by paperleaves

[B]writing about your real life helps, they say
but masking your words works better.

---

and

Quote:

---

If you could see
where I've been
you would love me.

---

The essence (the foregoing) of unrequited or departed love!

Quote:

---

and the husbands will mow the lawns in tennis shoes and polos
waiting for the moon to rise, beating off in the closet

---

Am I just a DOM for getting off on your use of "beating off"? Nah, I don't think so, it's just that one loves to hear the raw, street term for things.

Old blog entry, my Aunt Fanny! What this proves is that you were already d--n good before you got even better.

Thank you, Jer :)
I didn't know if the beating off in the closet part was too much, but it's an image I wanted to portray...thanks for appreciating it lol!

love
kate

"If you could see where I've been you would love me..." that's my favorite line that I found lying on your bedroom floor

Just fantastic. It filled me with hate and sorrow at the same time. I'm stunned.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by paperleaves

Thank you, Jer :)
I didn't know if the beating off in the closet part was too much, but it's an image I wanted to portray...thanks for appreciating it lol!

love
kate

---

It seems my previous response to this was vaporized, maybe because I listed some of the available alternatives to "beating off," all of which I thought were either too clinical or smirky or cute.

This is an extraordinary poem paperleaves, it really carries, no drags the reader along, helplessly entranced. It manages to be at once vulnerable and powerful. Beautiful stuff.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

It seems my previous response to this was vaporized, maybe because I listed some of the available alternatives to "beating off," all of which I thought were either too clinical or smirky or cute.

---

If by "vaporized" you mean "deleted", no posts have been deleted in this thread.

thank you, fifth!:)