Im going through the wreckage I made of Denise during 2010 and the ways I also rebuilt her and made her better. Im organizing myself and my book and some music I need to make. A lot of it is from old writing hanging around.
I had a hard time writing Song Biographies, so I rarely did ones that made sense. I want to say that this is because I am a very private person. Lately I haven’t been, but this is artificial and I have had a lot happen this year where I have slipped out of step and standard; forgotten to breathe. I remembered fight and forgot flight.
So the mystery of me is now covered in catsup and pickle relish, presented on an unappetizing sesame seed white bun. Yee-haw.
I found myself rushing to speak. To explain. I found myself craving attention. The more attention I crave, the less I am needed, wanted. My product sucks.
When I wrote some of my best material, it was with others in mind at times, but if they never knew, then I really didn’t care. Now I find myself explaining the puzzle frequently and often to many.
This can all be traced back to a few things, but no matter.
I DO know from personal experience, both in the past and quite recently, that if you do not speak others are more than happy to speak for you. But I find that I am protective of both me and mine and also afraid of akwardness and conflict. I like things to be polite and nice and so I sit. I used to be happy to do this.
Now as for song biographies; this tends to render them too revealing when I am a revealer of the self in songs; and it makes reviewing the songs of others neigh on impossible.
So sometimes I write poems about my characters. If they’d made different choices. Lately I’ve been thinking of silence alongside these types of structures.
I have missed my poetry, my actual writing-in-blogging and WRITING-writing .. and my piano. I am far from me.
This is my first offering.
THE ONES WHO CHOOSE NOT TO FLOAT
I have a tiny little box of me
I’ve lied you see
I haven’t lied to everyone
There are others, some that see me
I’ve chosen to remain
aloof, for reasons that make sense
Actions have their consequence
Attacks, they have their defense
It’s common to sense that
there’s something wrong
around this time
it’s about the time I turn away,
about the time my eyes go blind
and arms go limp..
about the time my mind goes wild
and far away..
about the time the lies
accompany the sinking ship.
the treasure is already airtight
and the biggest lie of all is that
you’ve got me in the lifeboat
as you flee from all this wreckage.
You radio home to say that you’ve
acquired the package
And I settle down in depths of safety;
wet and cold and shaky -
but I’m quite alone,
and I can rebuild skeletons
from these forgotten shards
of splintered bone.
in closing, I live someplace else now and have for months. I have plans to go nomad-ing somewhere in the next few months. Maybe close, maybe far away. For now there is a cafe nearby which I have not tried, and I will practice piano, write with a pen, and go out of doors once each day.
I will blog sometimes and make lists.
I have not used Twitter well, I’m afraid.