Regel

Ever notice dear readers what emotions certain peices evoke? Troubled by what I read I'll answer in prose. Anger and pain Thrown on to this page No love to sustain Dysfunctional man Self hatred exposed Condemned to damned Why all this tension? Violence against ones own flesh It beyond my comprehension

A beautiful poem indeed Matteo. You have a certain style of writing I quite enjoy. The naked truth is often a sordid pun. Excellent choice of words.

Brainstorm: Jason's Golden Fleece (somewhat soiled). The eyes and muzzle of a rotweiller. Flared nostrils of a Bison. Silhouette of a Shaman in skins. An ink spill made worst by trying to blot it up.

I stood there in disbelief, looked around at the nurse and said "I have to see him." She walked me into a room that was curtained off. She stood there watching me in her crisp blue uniform then proceeded to pull down the sheet. Then without being told she left me there alone with him. Blue was no longer my favorite colour. I stood there and remembered to breathe. I was looking at him and nothing looked right. His face was bruised. Time passed and yet as strange as this seems those twelve minutes seemed like hours. My eyes look further down past his shoulders and came to rest at on the hairs of his forearm. I had suddenly been transported back to a time when I was a child. What a warm safe place that had been to rest my chin as I sat watching him play cards on a Friday or Saturday night. The cards always had company with a glass of red wine to one side and an ashtray on his left. The curl of his idling smoke often came and found me but I never let that stop me from hopping on to my dad's knee and watching. My brother Phil came in and stood with me. My face was wet and I made no effort to wipe the tears. The two of us stood there and I knew it was time to go. I collected myself as best I could and thanked the nurse on the way out. Walking out of the Emergency Room I looked up at the clock. It was barely 10:00 am.

Hope you are feeling better real soon.

We lived on Weston St. in 1957. Two families all living under one roof (my parents, my baby sister and I as well as my mother's brother and his wife and two sons). My cousins were eleven months apart and my birthday fell almost exactly in the middle of the two. The three of us grew up together for the first three years of our lives. We were more like brothers than cousins. We played, argued and fought with each other, but we were inseparable. My maternal grandmother also lived with us in that small three bedroom home. We played together, explored the neighborhood together, and amused the neighbors when ever we took the push lawnmower for a stroll. My poor Nona was our baby-sitter while both sets of parents were at work. At ages two and a half through three we often took to long walks that would send our Nona into a panic. The eldest of her grandchildren Frank would always be the first one she would find often on the front step of our porch. She would ask Frank where we were. Frank would sit there with a long face cradled in his hands and simple point in the direction we had walked. Frank would accompany us only as far as the corner but never would cross the street. Rules never stopped my cousin Don and I. Frank would stand there watching us stroll out of sight then return to the porch and wait. Poor Nona was always running after us and babbling in Italian to strangers “You see two bambini?” Often we would return long before Nona would catch up to us. Rejoining Frank on the porch step we would wait for her to return. Freaking out our Nona was half the appeal of these long strolls I believe. One night after a very active day I went to bed and had a very vivid dream. As a three year old I had rarely dreamed in color. That night I did. My understanding of death at that age was not very comprehensive. I had never seen a dead person so imagine your three year old waking up screaming “No! No! No! NOOOOOOO!” I had explained to my mom that in my dream I had seen my adventurous cousin Donny laid out on a table. He skin was blue. I didn’t understand why but at some level I knew at once he was dead. The details shocked and terrified my mother and she crossed herself and whispered “Mal Occio!” I had never seen a corpse and had no experience with this concept that dead people turn blue. I just knew it was bad and woke up screaming. The dream had frightened me and the entire family. It would be thirty one years before I would actually see a corpse first hand. It happened on Sept 22nd 1988.

You know them better than I do but sometimes people need to be upset because the situation calls for it. Striking piece in so many respects.

I really like this Discordia. Strong first verse: Just one quick comment about that final verse. I am not comfortable with the structure of this last verse. It could be that I should stop drinking red wine in the evening but I so liked this poem. I would have liked it better like this. To find the one who set me free, I will rise now and seek where days are done. For her, for me, for eternity And pluck the golden orb of the sun.

Sad story. Sad yet an interesting snippet of how some relationships conclude. I enjoyed the read but am left with many questions. Perhaps that was the intention.

Happy violence day to you.

Best wishes on your birthday NightShade.

Forgiveness, I liked two of the responses I have read so far and think that it is both those things and more. Someone injures another and then shows remorse they will ask and often receive forgiveness. There is a burden in carrying a grudge on both parties. The truth is even with forgiveness the burden remains, it's just lightened a little and not forgotten. If there is an understanding between both parties that forgiveness is not always absolution but more often a resolution of the conflict then it can often be more freely given. I have been and continue to be eaten alive with my own pettiness. It is a weakness I freely admit owning. Somethings for me can not be forgiven but they can and often do come to a resolution.

Seize the day! Happy (and probably belated) Birthday greetings!

At least not for long in your case Sorciere. A quality piece of work. Vivid imagery through out but these two quotes strongly resonanted in me.

Legal sorta? Seems to me to be a wonderous age. A rose in bud about to bloom. Best wishes hope it was a good day.

QUite an abstract piece in it's wording and punctuation. There is some wonderful imagery in this poem laying on a parquet floor might seem like that. The other line I enjoyed was this one Troubles me that while I enjoyed the piece you try to speak to us on different levels but I can't quite see them. Perhaps this speaks to the fact that it's late and I'm tired and that the levels are there and I am not. No earthquake causes this but perhaps a personal upheaval creating the same effect on the person telling the story as an earthquake would have on the building?

As the topic description suggests it has been met with alot of strange looks in my family but it's how I feel. Burn me, please. Seems to me that when I go, A circus will come to town, Don’t paint my face and comb my hair, And stick me in the ground. Burn me, please. Funerals are so dull, People I cared for all in black, Why dress up what’s left I’m not coming back. Burn me, please. Pictures in a rented hall, Tell stories, laugh and cry Food and drink provide it all. And know that I’ll be standing by Burn me, please Flames or mildew Corruption seems to slow Forgive my decision Move on, let me go Just burn me, please.

Hello Salinye, While you did warn us I still didn't believe it. The silence was deafening. Nice to see your smiling face. Hope the next post is sooner.

In biological terms when an animal has experienced trauma (or believes they are about to) they often go into a state known as shock. In that state they feel a calm inspite of the situation. They shut down and are pain free, resigned to their fate. This is strange trait to select for in a gene pool. For often in the case of the mouse the cat eventually kills them. I'm not suggesting that this is the case but the trauma here is emotional. The attack is on your self image, maybe the feeling you describe is shock as well. Perhaps some part of you has died or resigned. The emotional trauma described. (Cause) The effect. The similarity is striking. The ending is the extremely sad because it seems as if you have found escape but in reality (like the mouse) you are simply awaiting your fate. But perhaps this particular mouse does finally rise up on it's hind legs and bite the tormentor on the nose with these words and this work.

Drivel? Please don't force me into this hopperwolf's work is good arguement. You know better. Our harshest critic is still inside us all but your words speak for themselves. Drivel? I don't thinks so.

The details are quite interesting. They create strong images. bent hangers It is the sort of thing that can happen when a person about to fall or collapse reaches for something to support them but can bear the weight. and the stones to be rolled away come morning. I almost missed this the first time I read it. It came back and tapped me on the shoulder half way through the story saying "Excuse me but have we met before?" Finally this passage So, she drowned her unborn child in a bath tub of amphetamines before he ever learned to breathe. Obviously a metaphor (unless it was a huge closet) but drowning in a tub of amphetamines was the most difficult visual image for me. Crossing over the line and passing through the door that reads "abandon all hope". A very fine post theenemyisyou.

Addiction, it is the word I associated with the word blood after I read this. The vampire has an addiction. WAnting it Losing control and loving it Yes indeed it sounds like addiction.

Best wishes to both of you.

What a beautiful sad story. It is often hard for me to read material like this because it difficult to for me to be a passive observer. Anger creeps in and colours my judgement. The only champion I have learned in this world that you need already believes in you. You just need to believe.

Seize the day, the woman, or the moment. The images that this evokes are dinged with dark shades. In every man's heart there are many choices to be made in the context of the day the person you are with and even the moment. Very nice and very short.