Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Letter To Myself

"Tonight
just let the curtain fall in silence
why not approach with less defiance
the one who'd love to see you smile
the one who'd love to see you smile tonight." --Elton John

"Hello darkness my old friend."--Paul Simon

This is a letter to myself
because
anything I say can and will be used against me--
everybody is a cop.
I will sneak these words
to myself in a paper cup
because
I have to have them.
When I eat them, they will catch fire.
I will vent them in fantastic concussion--
my molten words roiling on themselves roundly
for a fucking billion years
sustaining nothing.

When I was a child, I talked like a child,
thought like a child, reasoned like a child.
This is a letter to myself
because
I have to keep remembering how,
and not be destroyed this time.
I have wrapped my heart in words,
stuffed my eyes with them,
my mind,
my intimate places murdered and abandoned.
This is a letter to myself.
Goddamit.
Goddamit!
I said I wouldn't shake, but I always do.

This is a letter to myself
because
then, if anyone asks why I am crying,
why I am bashing my brains out against the wall,
why I sing
though I cannot sing
why I sing
though I cannot sing
then I can say it was these letters, and wave them
like a girl on shipboard, departing on an adventure
instead of what I am--
a woman tearing her own throat out with her fingers;
drawing watercolor roses
in drying blood
for no one.
______

for the weekend mini-challenge.


 

 

13 comments:

  1. Wow! This is packed with emotion.

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  2. Gah! I felt this one down to my toes. I have read the depth of love in your poems, and i can totally feel - and relate to - all the giving and writing and being.....and the tearing at the throat so full of words - "for no one". But you have us, kiddo, and to us your words are golden, no one writes like you. This one about knocked me out of my chair.

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  3. I read this so slowly, in an English accent, aloud --- tasting every word as if it were an exotic chocolate. I am so emotionally open today, so this, my favorite of your poems, couldn't have been presented in a more timely or effective way.

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  4. This passion for words is screaming, howling and raw.

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  5. Woman!

    Know that I read this once. Read it a second time. Then, I shouted the second stanza and ran around the room (I do this often--the running around after reading something powerful--so my Piano Man just raised an eyebrow and continued practicing for the show he's playing). It's the the wrapping a heart in words that got me all fired up. I know that feeling. And the energy that comes with it. And I like it. A lot.

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  6. don't i know it...everybody's a cop. i hate cops. though i do have a thing for uniforms:) And i do have a thing for your poems Shay.

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  7. "This is my letter to the world
    That never wrote to me..."

    Emily Dickinson

    Shay, in speaking your words, and sharing them with the world, you remind this reader that she is not alone in thought and deed... So close have I come to tearing my own throat out with my fingers and painting roses...

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  8. We all need that timecapsule... wish I had something of my childish self... I will save them, and share them... this is why you are a poet.

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  9. The howling solitude of this (and the solidarity we feel it) says that epitaphs are for writers no one with the time reads. But whatelsearewegonnado? Write songs?

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  10. "for no one" I think we feel diminishment of somethings as we age. Fortunately other less expressible things seem to lead on. . .

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  11. anything I say can and will be used against me--

    I will sneak these words
    to myself in a paper cup

    I will vent them in fantastic concussion--


    absolute sheer brilliance .... and most often, I simply don't comment, because I'm too busy digesting and enjoying the raw power and incredible crafting that pours from your spirit and soul - a blood letting from the pores .... and I enjoy walking this dangerous edge and line .... cheers!

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?