I feel it as a phantom limb,
this splayed uncertainty
that’s not quite there
but nonetheless spins my wheel,
this mad rustle of shapeshifter leaves
rooting for summer’s pruney teat,
a ghostly visitation that watches
everything
but refuses to say
or own the squirmy fear it makes
A vampire choked
around my neck
with garlic breath
and heart of smoke
Enough; no more.
Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
I’m disgusted with it all.
I’m disgusted with me.
You wanna know how to kill a bloodsucker?
Get up off those knees, and
Drive a fucking stake through it.
19 comments:
As soon as I get up off the floor, wait, ok: Absolutely perfect. :-)
Cat, was that a slap in the face, or what? Directed at myself, of course.
Thank you for understanding. :)
Sorry for the profanity, folks. Murmurs just jumped the shark.
We'll now return to our regularly scheduled programming. ;)
I didn't expect to laugh at the end. Thanks.
Don't apologize for anything. This is saleable.
Go for it Sarah!!! And good luck to ya!!
Fucking A right! Accept no bonds and nothing less than full freedom.
Come on... we are all adults here (boy, do I love to say that :P).
I fucking loved the attitude too. But you can try all you want, but you just can't kill the beast. :D
Great ending. That suggestion works for other kind of bloodsuckers as well.
Sometimes we all need a good swift kick in the fanny.
Go for it, Sarah! Believe it or not, I know just how you feel. "Enough; no more."
To Everyone:
Fuck. Yeah.
(sorry--I'm so totally laughing at my bad-ass self right now; even if the sentiment is true)
And to Aniket--you make a very good point. (but fuck it, anyway)
Thanks, guys.
Sarah-- I'm reading Tolle right now, and I'm thinking about how your words reflect his idea about separating the self from the "ego" (his term for the self that you think you are). All of the ideas we hold about our self are just contructs of words. The true self is the presence or awareness that can hear our ego/self when it thinks in words. The true self doesn't "think", it isn't defined by words, it just is. And because it just is, when we stop thinking and just sense our true self, we can only feel peace. So I'm interpreting your post as your true self cutting free from its identification with the ego/self. (Geez, I'm probably murdering this concept-- go read Tolle to understand all of this. LOL!)
Anyway-- you go, girl!! Because your true self is nothing to feel disgusted about! It is beautiful, it is love!
Sarah, this is so fucking great. Almost Plath-like in its sharp, asperous edges.
I love, most, the feeling of the feeling as a "phantom limb"--it both is and isn't there, but so many people prentend and pretend and in that incessant, tedious pretending bury part of themselves, maybe forever. But not you.
Not you.
So drive the fucking stake and inspire all of us to do the same.
this is fantastic. apart from the dead-on roundhouse of the last two lines, i love "that watches
everything
but refuses to say
or own the squirmy fear it makes" - which, to me, hits justs as hard.
where's that stake?
Aine, we do need to be true to ourselves. We do require authenticity, and the ability to just stop and listen to our core selves without any muddying influences or twisting pulls. Tolle's concept of the "ego" sounds outward driven, volatile, and self-defeating. I'm ready to immerse in some calmer waters. Finally. :)
Thank you, my friend. Your words and ideas have always been precious to me.
Jennifer, you're fucking great. (on a side note--I am fucking loving this new freedom of vulgarity in my comment section. Hmm, am I killing it yet? Maybe so? Fuck no...)
You know what? In all seriousness, I have pretended far too much in my life. I have straddled too many lines. I'm sure I will in the future, too. But all I can say is that I'm feeling a shift lately, a new determination. And I'm happy about it.
Now come on. Let's go conquer the world with our words. :)
Joaquin, in this blogging circle, I think we've all got our fists wrapped around it.
Thank you for the great comments here. That squirmy fear needs to be beaten into submission.
Hey Sarah - just read your comment on my blog - we can be NaNo buddies... anyway, think about it. What's the worse thing that can happen? If you don't think you want to strive for 50,000, strive for 25,000 and see how you do...
I want to say what they said to E. Doolittle...By God, I think she's got it! LOL!
We, as writers, could all use that stake at one time or another.
First of all, the poem is as strong as anything you have written. Not only because of the whole stake thing...but, the wonderful cadence and the great images, "phantom limb" "mad rustle" "summer's pruney teat" - Oh, the wonderful poetic phrases you have penned here! Great read aloud!!! Get thee to an open mic at poetry night - read it with anger and blow them all out of the water!!!
Sheri, I'm scared, I'm scared!
But what the heck. What do I have to lose, except my dignity? ;)
I can see myself shooting for 25,000 words. 50,000 would require a brain transplant!
Thanks, Sheri. :)
K, I love Eliza!! The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain! :D
You made me laugh out loud with your open mic statement. It's very tempting, but I would probably start to, well, laugh instead!
That said, I appreciate your enthusiasm and encouragement here. Maybe I should record the poem, and put it on the blog! :)
That is a definite YEP! Love ya, sistah!
EEK!
I'll have to down a stiff drink beforehand. ;)
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