Watch out for me
Goulet
Posts: 918
this is where i start to ramble
and where i start to tell you
that this is going to be a very bad poem,
if it could be called that at all,
and you're right in saying i'm not
going to spell check it,
and you're right in saying that i'm not
going to stop doing drugs
and drinking
and being depressed,
and you're right when you tell me
that i'm not a very "good" person,
maybe i can write some words in the right order,
or maybe i can play guitar notes
and put some strange words to them,
but i'm not a "good" person,
i'm trite and never humble,
i'm superficial and stereotypical,
and i'm never get anyone's name right,
on purpose,
and i lie and cheat,
and lay around all day
wishing i were a millionaire
and i didn't have to do anything,
and i think about how i can't wait
to die,
and how i'm worthless
and melodramatic
and pretentious
and no where close to being anything
but a follower of the crowd,
and i'm dead to you
and that seems to be okay,
it seems to be what my real world is,
and what my drama turns out as,
what i'm really talking about is
my childhood
and Mr. Personality,
because those two things have plenty in common,
just think:
2 people who have never met
can fall in love because of poetry,
and 2 people who have always known
one another
will never fall in love because of poetry,
it is a strange world.
are you tripping out yet?
are you skipping out on life yet?
are you okay with that?
and i only ask
because i want you to accept me
for something more then a horrible person,
and something more then a poet,
i want you to be okay with shortcomings
and hostility and confusion
and i want it to be okay for us to disagree,
and have conflicts
because that's what life's about,
and you're lonely
and i'm alone,
and we could lie down in bed,
in one "billowing with pillows,"
and we would be beautiful
and drowsy
and drunk,
and you would have to pinch me and yourself
to understand what is really going on,
and what we really just went through,
and we would fall asleep,
side-by-side,
staring into our chests.
and where i start to tell you
that this is going to be a very bad poem,
if it could be called that at all,
and you're right in saying i'm not
going to spell check it,
and you're right in saying that i'm not
going to stop doing drugs
and drinking
and being depressed,
and you're right when you tell me
that i'm not a very "good" person,
maybe i can write some words in the right order,
or maybe i can play guitar notes
and put some strange words to them,
but i'm not a "good" person,
i'm trite and never humble,
i'm superficial and stereotypical,
and i'm never get anyone's name right,
on purpose,
and i lie and cheat,
and lay around all day
wishing i were a millionaire
and i didn't have to do anything,
and i think about how i can't wait
to die,
and how i'm worthless
and melodramatic
and pretentious
and no where close to being anything
but a follower of the crowd,
and i'm dead to you
and that seems to be okay,
it seems to be what my real world is,
and what my drama turns out as,
what i'm really talking about is
my childhood
and Mr. Personality,
because those two things have plenty in common,
just think:
2 people who have never met
can fall in love because of poetry,
and 2 people who have always known
one another
will never fall in love because of poetry,
it is a strange world.
are you tripping out yet?
are you skipping out on life yet?
are you okay with that?
and i only ask
because i want you to accept me
for something more then a horrible person,
and something more then a poet,
i want you to be okay with shortcomings
and hostility and confusion
and i want it to be okay for us to disagree,
and have conflicts
because that's what life's about,
and you're lonely
and i'm alone,
and we could lie down in bed,
in one "billowing with pillows,"
and we would be beautiful
and drowsy
and drunk,
and you would have to pinch me and yourself
to understand what is really going on,
and what we really just went through,
and we would fall asleep,
side-by-side,
staring into our chests.
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
you forgot to add, life sucks then you die alone.
this post makes me wish that dear seta's communal mansion were real and that we were all there together because this one is just too wonderful and too complex to simply post a reply to.
i'm reliving it
i'm dying in it
i'm still out on the road
i'm gettign there
i'm almost done
i'm a little drunk
i'm a little happy
i'm on top of the world
i'm downtown
i'm goodbye
i'm breakfast in bed
i'm over and out
it's me
im throwing you my panties AND my nipples are hard.
now...wasn't that fun?
there's no such thing as the perfect inviso-girl or inviso-guy. its just a matter of finding the inviso-girl or inviso-guy that is perfect for you. and there's a really huge difference between the two, but you know that already don't you?
its just like the difference between loving someone and being in love. i can say surely that i have loved in my life, but i am just as certain that i've never been in love. i had the chance at least one time, but i didn't take it. i knew i loved him in spite of his addictions and his melancholy, in spite of his bloodlust when he was feeling badly, in spite of his pursuit of other girls - i loved him more than all the words i could ever write.
and i also knew that even when he couldn't love himself enough that he still loved me - regardless of how scared or shy or repressed i might have been. he tried to be patient and he tried to draw me out but no matter there was always some point at which i would withdraw. he told me constantly how he felt and i said nothing. he is the one person in this world that never made me feel as though he wished that i were any more or any less than who i am and still i said nothing.
so doesn't that make me a liar, doesn't that make me a cheater? doesn't this make me the most awful fool in the history of existence? and here i am the silly moon-eyed girl thats spent a lifetime waiting for the miracle and yet when i had it right in front of me, i was too frightened of losing it to ever let it begin. there are a thousand times i could have been more gentle or more kind. there are so many moments where i should have been more like the me in my head and i failed. maybe in some really stupid way i just like to make things harder on myself or believe at least that i deserve to have it that way.
because a life without struggle, without friction - is that really living at all? those are the moments that make us grow and stretch and reach beyond our own self imposed horizons. i am the shy girl, the dreamer, the feet in the clouds girl - but i am cautious and foolish and lonely and maudlin. i'm the naive cynic. but these aren't all the things that i am and everyday i'm learning that i can be more than all of this. i can't go back and change or erase the moments i'm not so proud of and maybe that would be a bad idea anyway. but i can still be better next time and thats all we can hope for and all we can offer and as long as we can at least recognize the moments we could have been better - there is the chance that when next time arrives that we will.
so call yourself a liar and a cheat, a melodramatic fool. disregard the poet and the musician but underneath it all you are a being struggling to become - just as i am, just as we all are. and it is often less than perfect and we aren't always good but as long as we are becoming we are beautiful in our imperfection.
Since i read this, i have not forgotten it.
Maybe,
You are the man i have been looking for all my life. Everything your write has been beautifully spoken and your longing for love is as big as all our big red clown shoes that say..
hey, im a fool for love. kick me and im gonna still smile. I especially like this part...
just think:
2 people who have never met
can fall in love because of poetry,
and 2 people who have always known
one another
will never fall in love because of poetry,
it is a strange world.
are you tripping out yet? YES!!!!!!!!!!!!
are you skipping out on life yet? YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
are you okay with that?
and i only ask
because i want you to accept me
for something more then a horrible person,
and something more then a poet,
i want you to be okay with shortcomings
and hostility and confusion
and i want it to be okay for us to disagree,
and have conflicts
because that's what life's about,
and you're lonely
and i'm alone,
and we could lie down in bed,
in one "billowing with pillows,"
and we would be beautiful
and drowsy
and drunk,
and you would have to pinch me and yourself
to understand what is really going on,
and what we really just went through,
and we would fall asleep,
side-by-side,
staring into our chests.
is is scary to think someone you love might think your too perfect. Then they find out you have bad breath just like the rest of us everymorning. Girls might not understand that, women do. You need a good woman Goulet.....reading what you wrote makes me want to love you it also....it makes me want to cry because i can feel my love inside my chest everyday. he has beautiful blue eyes and a big green heart and maybe, he doesn't even know Im alive. If i were a big drinker Goulet, we'd be throwing em down together my soft hearted poet of reality AND love.
and Coleen.....I need someone like you in my family. Let's go house shopping.
it looks as though you and i are fond of the same bit - thats what i can't stop smiling about. goulet has a gift for that sort of thing.
where shall we live gita? i'll let you decide.
although I love the pacific northwest, im afraid we arent' long for this world here...
Im thinking the southwest...red dirt.
Specifically maybe Arizona, north, Flagstaff, Oak Creek Canyon area.
I want to be able to hike the canyons with all the vortex in them. I once found my love there, he was like a shiny rock being bathed in the stream of my dreams....
aaahhhhhhh
snow and desert and ghosts of indians. how could you get any better than that.
ps. there are still plenty of pines in Flagstaff, so I wont miss my green green home as much. oh, how i love my green and the water. wait...i don't know...how could i ever leave my washington without my love. maybe i would have to stay to make sure he is okay when the volcanoe goes off. i don't want him to die alone. IF there were ever a disaster in my lifetime.
what am i talking about. inner dialog spilling out onto board again. someone stop me today. i feel the truth coming on.
you need to make some love i think
How I adore the language that spilled from you, Goulet. The meaning is something else, of course. We all seek being loved unconditionally. The rub is that we assume we will one day fulfil all our wants & needs by capturing the one person we think can do that for us.
However, as your words have shaken us to ponder, we always begin to attach conditions when things are less than pleasant or uncomfortable or disappointing.
To love freely, respectfully, wildly, simply ~ why is that so difficult for us? Why must we claim ownership, jealous possession friction, try to change one to suit our own desires?
If love is true, it is understood. There is no worry, no doubt. One trusts that one is loved unconditionally. Certainly one craves to be with one's love object, but true love also transcends the body, rich in the souls & spirits of each other every single moment.
Regarding Ed worship ~ it's good in this way. It teaches us the feeling of deeply loving. It lets us open the floodgates towards universal love. The man himself owns his own life, chooses his style. We should simply be happy to feel his spirit through the music & words so joyfully & soulfully presented. And always, always send the love back out into the world. The more you give, the more returns to you. I am living proof of this in ways I can never possibly describe.
All love.
It's no joke.
Love,
Ger
"I wanna believe it, I wanna believe that you're in love with me...."
thats alot
you stay right and do be no poemin that scares the heck out of me elliot smith forever
a sleeve of skin
over pure goodness
a coat of armor
over a soft heart
that beats fast
when glimpsing love
a driven mind
helping/looking/wishing
for yourself
for everyone
selfless and selfish
to give yet protect
love is always there
lifting and holding
gently
thwarting the demons
faith in a gaze
a million words unsaid
i never do as i'm told
neither do you
my miracle
i do and i am
i'm ready, when do we leave?
in 3...2...1...
is it really you?
what?
i'm me, but you do you want me to be?
i think it's something how so many of us "catch" this
have we all been here?
this poem?
*raises hand*
i have... or am... or whatever
thanks
Wish you were here...
♥~RIP Dad