Marsbert
03-09-05, 10:00PM
We had to write limericks in class last thursday:
Dangling Danny
Once there was a man from Savannah
who shot himself out of a cannon.
He went flying by
shouting “howdy,” and “hi,”
while his pants were left mistakenly abandoned.
The Princess & The Grits
There once was a princess named Marcy
who would only eat carrots and parsley.
She threw a great fit,
when they tried to feed her grits,
and from then on she ate rather sparsely.
and then these are just for fun:
THE PAIN RESIDES HERE
Your suicide’s job is not to know –
who, what, where, when, how…
– only to do. Only to do your worst
the worse side of that fickle life, life, life
that
every
day
a
little
death
subsides.
A million -1 ways to ask –
to want to know
and to beg
please
don’t forget me when you’re dead.
Don’t let me tell you that I accept
to know
to experience
the death of a first love knocked
something -1
off the shelf inside my heart.
– fell out of place – into the hole overflowed to this earth. White vs. black. heaven vs. Hell.
Wh – I know you
I still
know that had my eyes been burned by the light that was blown out by your last breath –
I would still know you.
Still know
what
it’s
like
To lose that first flicker
glimmer
burning fire
felt inside because of
of another human.
another human.
you were human……once upon a time
in a far away place
known as
the
past.
The most sought after vacation spot
– that never makes reservations.
Because
“the past” doesn’t want us back.
It’s done, through, finished
with our trivial worries
And I’m done with you
I
have
to
be.
Otherwise it will kill me too – that hungry suicide – that monster devouring – that sickness within….
give it back.
Please.
THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND
When the breeze is so cold
your teeth turn to ice bergs
in that white snowy cave
nightmares are frozen by
the fire-hot sears of pain
in lungs that know no boundaries.
When teasing blinks in the
sky flicker and laugh at
you as you pound at tender
raw flesh falling out of the
marrow from the sky to the
moaning empty dust.
When a fleeting draft of
birthing the new spring air
infiltrating clogged lungs
beneath roots and bulbs
fighting to win into the sun
dripping through your fingers.
When you need the proof
of a life you’ve forgotten
to scrape and groove against
outer skin made from thread
to remember the spark is made
through skin rubbing skin.
Then you will understand what death in winter really is.
A PARENT’S POEM
I want to say
THANK YOU
but I can’t.
That is not possible
not possible to give you so little
for so much.
1) life 2) life 3) life
1- make you proud
2- let you know
3- pay you back in hugs
What’s the word
that lets one say
everything that is in their mind
sitting as a picture –
a feeling –
something that can only be felt –
from mind down throat through lungs into heart out of mouth life serpent tongue on fire
you let me live and gave me the slate
to contour a world in the color I wished for
the day I was born.
…and I can thank you for that…that at least…
Dangling Danny
Once there was a man from Savannah
who shot himself out of a cannon.
He went flying by
shouting “howdy,” and “hi,”
while his pants were left mistakenly abandoned.
The Princess & The Grits
There once was a princess named Marcy
who would only eat carrots and parsley.
She threw a great fit,
when they tried to feed her grits,
and from then on she ate rather sparsely.
and then these are just for fun:
THE PAIN RESIDES HERE
Your suicide’s job is not to know –
who, what, where, when, how…
– only to do. Only to do your worst
the worse side of that fickle life, life, life
that
every
day
a
little
death
subsides.
A million -1 ways to ask –
to want to know
and to beg
please
don’t forget me when you’re dead.
Don’t let me tell you that I accept
to know
to experience
the death of a first love knocked
something -1
off the shelf inside my heart.
– fell out of place – into the hole overflowed to this earth. White vs. black. heaven vs. Hell.
Wh – I know you
I still
know that had my eyes been burned by the light that was blown out by your last breath –
I would still know you.
Still know
what
it’s
like
To lose that first flicker
glimmer
burning fire
felt inside because of
of another human.
another human.
you were human……once upon a time
in a far away place
known as
the
past.
The most sought after vacation spot
– that never makes reservations.
Because
“the past” doesn’t want us back.
It’s done, through, finished
with our trivial worries
And I’m done with you
I
have
to
be.
Otherwise it will kill me too – that hungry suicide – that monster devouring – that sickness within….
give it back.
Please.
THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND
When the breeze is so cold
your teeth turn to ice bergs
in that white snowy cave
nightmares are frozen by
the fire-hot sears of pain
in lungs that know no boundaries.
When teasing blinks in the
sky flicker and laugh at
you as you pound at tender
raw flesh falling out of the
marrow from the sky to the
moaning empty dust.
When a fleeting draft of
birthing the new spring air
infiltrating clogged lungs
beneath roots and bulbs
fighting to win into the sun
dripping through your fingers.
When you need the proof
of a life you’ve forgotten
to scrape and groove against
outer skin made from thread
to remember the spark is made
through skin rubbing skin.
Then you will understand what death in winter really is.
A PARENT’S POEM
I want to say
THANK YOU
but I can’t.
That is not possible
not possible to give you so little
for so much.
1) life 2) life 3) life
1- make you proud
2- let you know
3- pay you back in hugs
What’s the word
that lets one say
everything that is in their mind
sitting as a picture –
a feeling –
something that can only be felt –
from mind down throat through lungs into heart out of mouth life serpent tongue on fire
you let me live and gave me the slate
to contour a world in the color I wished for
the day I was born.
…and I can thank you for that…that at least…