by Laura Doom
Yeah, it's me
I guess it's been a few years
That long? Wow!
That bad huh?
Well it's no different here,
same old hell on earth, heh
No, no--I was just wondering;
you remember when I was a kid
how you used to take us to the beach
and Mum would smother me in oil
and you'd tease me 'cause I couldn't swim
and then we'd
Oh no, that's ok--I just wondered
No, it's just sometimes I feel
like I'm kind of freaky, you know?
Yeh, like you always said, eh?
Ha! No shit! Well, I'm dealing with stuff much better now;
so, I'm a member of this poetry site
No, I left all that 'Mary had a little lump' crap behind.
It's more like 'Humpty Dumpty got totally smashed',
serious social comment and all that stuff
I'm a big girl now, if you hadn't noticed
Yes, of course I eat
Well I guess that's down to a mother of a digestive system
Anyway, every now and then
I come across these poems,
tributes, eulogies, paeans in the ears
you know the kind of thing,
written in memory of
family, friends, loved ones
who've passed away...
Yes - died, snuffed it, flatlined
Yeah? Well it's called sensitivity
No, obviously I have no idea what it means;
that's just the way this stuff is dealt with. Ok?
So--these poems, they're stuffed full of emotion,
littered with poignant memories
proclaiming love and devotion, and
No, listen, I'm not trying to lay blame here;
everyone knows you were totally screwed up
NO! Fuck you! I don't hate you, that's the whole point;
I just--I just don't feel anything.
I wish I did--and I need to know: I NEED TO KNOW
that I'm not a total bastard
No. I wish I could, but that's the way it is.
I never saw you cry
I know. Sorry. Sensitivity is not my thing
Yes I am. I miss so many things;
the tears--shit! I miss mising you, you know?
Yes--I'm crying; does that make you happy?
Yeah--it does feel good; weird, but good
Ah, no. I don't think so;
it's too late for that
No--no apologies, no hard feelings
it just didn't work out
the way it should've--yeh?
Look, you have to go
I will; she misses you,
Yeah--no need to tell me
Maybe--maybe sooner than you think;
if I'm going anywhere, it'll be a cold day
Hey Laura--you got a minute?
Ok, it's not life or death.
First sign of madness, so my muse tells me...
Oh yeah? But, I
Posted on 10/08/2006
Copyright © 2020 Laura Doom
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Maria Terezia Ferencz on 10/09/06 at 02:53 PM|
Part of me is glad to read this, as it is so familiar, part of me is mad to read this as it is so familiar. Pulled out parts of me I am not sure I wanted to see. Which in short means, GREAT WORK. I should give you the hourly price my therapist gets. What a review.
|Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/11/06 at 01:33 PM|
This comes so close to my gondola that I needed to tilt the forward backwards. Scary as hell. Perhaps I enjoy feeling these realities sting me. No. Forget "perhaps". I KNOW I must. I visit myself when I read your poetry.