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real deviant-like
by Gabriel RicardFear is the great motivator,
and it’s possible I’ve revealed
too much of what scares me
three-hundred-and-sixty-four days out of the year.
I still visit friends,
and I act like there really are flowers in my right hand,
when I visit a woman who knows how dangerous
I can be when the stress becomes unmanageable.
It’s the first day,
of knowing yesterday
was the first day of the rest of my life.
I’m still mostly fantastic for fourteen shows an hour.
I’m still sorry I was too lazy to ride a bicycle,
all the way to the state she was playing house in.
All the bad things I’ve done
remain safe and sound. They used to be in a film vault,
in the stable parts of California but were moved,
and have since been traveling even more I do.
Maybe, I’m just an egomaniac,
but I suspect hundreds of people
are keeping that reel updated
and timely to the point where it’s giddy with insight.
Or it’s just one bitter heart with personality to spare.
Something tells me,
that’s not it. I’ve wronged a subway car
worth of people in the last decade alone.
I know all of this. It makes up the bones
that have their own games, their own language,
and their own way of mouthing off to God
with a mouthful of dirt.
It’s a mighty big closet to keep them in.
The skeletons dance, like someone
set out to recreate a public domain cartoon
from 1928, but fell in and out of love
before they finished and retired,
to watch the underworld
from their front porch.
I think the previous owner
kissed a couple dangerous girls in there once.
Lots of room to make a bad decision.
You wouldn’t even have to pound
the old hotspots. So desolate the wind left them behind
and went looking for something else to whip into shape.
I still do that,
but I don’t keep the souvenirs.
I avoid getting close to new bodies whenever possible.
They wouldn’t love me in the long run.
I know all of this. Every last dreadful gesture,
and every t-shirt that smells like a claustrophobic barroom,
but I’m still afraid of almost everything.
There’s no motivation from that anymore.
No burn marks under my feet. Not no more.
Now,
I just accumulate troubling amounts
of wealth for the distressing times ahead of me.
10/06/2011 Posted on 10/06/2011
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Meghan Helmich on 10/07/11 at 01:48 AM What could be safer than dangerous girls? I'm kind of captivated by your take on romance. |
| Posted by A. Reed on 10/08/11 at 04:10 AM It's never fun walking on eggshells. |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 10/08/11 at 08:25 PM Yeah... I love pretty much everything about this. In particular: "that have their own games, their own language,
and their own way of mouthing off to God
with a mouthful of dirt." I think you'd be an awesome candidate for The Moth, if you're into live story-telling. |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 10/09/11 at 02:46 PM ... excellent..... |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 10/09/11 at 04:12 PM I was trying to choose a particular line i love the best but couldn't choose just one. |
| Posted by Cole Bradburn on 10/11/11 at 09:10 PM "Maybe, I’m just an egomaniac, but I suspect hundreds of people are keeping that reel updated and timely to the point where it’s giddy with insight." -- keen observation and a wonderful work. Well done Gabriel |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/13/11 at 02:18 AM Grinning from ear to ear. Man, you're stuff is even better after a little marihoochie. Too many great lines to count them all. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 10/13/11 at 04:46 AM but you're so young, and with such deviance to have mastered thus, and put this way, it's a wonder I must congratulate you on. thnx |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 10/13/11 at 08:42 AM Hi Gabe, I know you are tired of me saying this, but yiu have the heart of a novelist in the line of Dashiell Hammett. Write another book and they will come. This piece proves it!! |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 10/14/11 at 03:08 PM "I’ve wronged a subway car
worth of people in the last decade alone." And a trainful in the years before. This was my show-stopping line this time, Gabriel. Bravo!
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| Posted by Frankie Sanchez on 10/14/11 at 07:40 PM well done sir. there is something about this line that really kicked me in the gut - "I’m still sorry I was too lazy to ride a bicycle, all the way to the state she was playing house in." |
| Posted by Sal Haefling on 10/14/11 at 07:53 PM "The skeletons dance, like someone
set out to recreate a public domain cartoon
from 1928, but fell in and out of love
before they finished and retired,
to watch the underworld
from their front porch."
....Love the visuals. Great job on this one Gabriel. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 10/15/11 at 11:01 AM Deviance with defiance -- a whip of words and the world seems a darker, more interesting place in which to practice and perfect cynicism :> |
| Posted by Lori Blair on 10/15/11 at 09:12 PM I sure can see why this is rated number one..this is just excellent Gabriel and that final line is superb! |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 10/18/11 at 02:05 AM Brilliant deviant-like poet you are. This is wonderful, full of moving pictures laid out like living puzzle pieces waiting to be perceived as a whole. Something about that last stanza gets to me...it's almost eerie the way we sit and wait for 'it' to happen, whatever it may be. The first stanza, for me, is the cause: "fear is the great motivator" and always a projection of the 'dancing skeletons' - yes, the closet of the past is big and dark and when "There’s no motivation from that anymore", its projection onto the future will suffice as the new motivator. That's what I saw. Beautifully crafted Gabriel. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 10/18/11 at 02:37 AM With all those bones rattling, I think I understand a little more about your rhythms...AND why I adore it so much. I still think the monstrosities are smaller than you imagine, though I don't doubt the subway car full of the lives you've touched. They serve complimentary alcohol on that car, no? |
| Posted by Johnny Crimson on 10/22/11 at 01:07 AM I kissed those girls in there. |
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