There is an order.
In which we enter the lift.
In which we walk to the table.
The chairs that we sit in.
The beakers that we drink from.
It is an order of disorder.
Of lives squashed in.
Dirtied up.
Misused.
Controlled.
Kicked to the ground like nothing.
Nothing.
I watch.
I know.
From both sides.
idonotbelongidonotbelongidonotbelong
But there is no exit.
The only light
The metal box on the wall they spark their cigarettes on
One at a time
One at a time
Every hour
Every thought
Burning away every part of my being
Burning away in this place
This place of safety is killing me killing me don’t think don’t think
One cigarette
Push the button
Suck up the heat
Inhale
Sit
Hit the concrete
Back and forth
Back and forth
They say to move forward you must reclaim now
It is a trick
A double hand
They hold the keys so I can take a piss brush my teeth
They superglue me to every dirty little second of the present
There is no room to imagine anything more
Anything better
Anything left of who I am.
15 comments:
No, you don't belong. But while it lasts you can dream dreams and can laugh at and with the man from a faraway place who is holding your hand.
I love how you arranged the lines to reflect people lining up. Sounds like you are really going through hell. Hang in there. Hopefully your writing helps.
Thank you OldEgg..hand gratefully received..
Thanks Linda..hadn't thought of that..the influence is obviously subliminal..
Jae
The present life of this poet is so squashed!! The repeating lines are such a genuine plea and made to sound hopeful but the last lines are superb, the reconciling with self and surrender.
Great work!!
Sounds miserable, Jae. They seemingly have control of much, but they cannot control the wonderful poetry you write. Write on, Jae.
they cannot control your perspective. that is the only thing you CAN control sometimes and while this landscape is grey and void, you are there inside, behind walls, but still there - luminous. You are loved even by some who will never meet you face to face. Not just for your gift of words, but for the person that slips out between them. Hold on to that. Hold on to us.
There is also an order
In which you depart that place
As
Pieces are picked up
Sewn back together
No longer cuttingchippingscratchingburningfalling
No longer red-streaked
There is an order of what was disordered
With lots of light
From within
From without
From above
From below
Light
Illuminating
What is really you
~ xo
Sounds like corporate life! No matter where (or when) we are in life, our bodies are prisoners, but our thoughts remain free if we let them.
G'Day Jae, I wish I was clever and could say something profound that would help you, like all the others. But I am just me, and I am thinking of you and sending you a big cuddle.
Thanks Nanka..
Thanks very much Mary..
Thank you Dee..holding onto you all for dear life..
Thanks Kim..for the return poem..it was interesting seeing a mirror version of my scribbles..thank you
Let's hope..thanks Ann..
A big cuddle is just the ticket..thanks Linda..
Jae
Even in a prison cell, we are as free as our minds allow ourselves to be. If we think ourselves free, we can be.
I lived on no other emotion other than fear for nearly 3 years. 24 hours a day 7 days a week. So much so, that I had to re-learn how to feel other feelings because I had forgotten what it felt like to not live through fear. The threats of which, were very real and very human.
But you know Jae, no-one can control your freedom of thought, and it is that which takes you to places other than the place you do not wish to be. Your sanctuary is also your prison. Keep looking up, keep searching for that little slip of light in the darkness, it is there, and, its name is hope.
Beautiful, heart-wrenching, pain-filled piece from you.
there is a lot left of you.,,,
Thank you Daydreamer..I will try and look up next yard time..
Thank you Glenn..I think that's the problem in this system..
Jae
so hard hitting the emotions that are held in this. Beautiful done JaeRose
Thanks Sheilagh..next TWW scribble to go! Jae
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