If There Is a Feeling Assigned to That of Contracting an Unknown Disease, This Is It…
I’ll dance to tunes I barely know,
And I’ll clap louder,
Than any other bear you know,
Because that’s what life is for,
Spontanious,
Nerve-wracking,
Rediculous,
Sometimes poised and inane,
Always insane,
Like an loaded gun sitting on the bedside table,
With a white lace doily pattern ‘neath it,
The yellow daisies,
Contrasting the sleek, black, cylidrical barrel,
Is it security?
Or the signed sontract with Satan, himself,
There’s silver bullets inside,
And no hiding from the truth,
They’re waiting to taste your innards,
And kiss your blood,
That would be the fear,
If you know fear like I do,
Then heavy metal music is nothing,
Fear is when nothing else matters,
But everything is relevant,
Sometimes it just feels good,
To put the gun to your head,
Just to hear the explosions…
~Marie
[Note: I edited this one for a reason, so that you might be able to understand more what I was trying to get across. I hope you like it.]
Administrator said,
November 7, 2005 @ 6:04 pm
I’m looking for focus, details, and a personal voice in poems.
I can taste the focus of your poem, but I can’t quite get my head around it. Is it that you feel that anything can happen and that life is dangerous?
What does it mean to know fear like you do? This poem leaves me wanting to know what it feels like when nothing else matters and everything is relevant. Can you spell it out?
Your details are really strong images. The gun on the doily, and the contract.
I don’t really know where you are in the poem. Are you dancing in your room with a gun on the table?