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A sense that makes no title
by Laura DoomOn concluding that life
is altogether too long
I decided to kill some time.
Following an interminable
period of introspection
which, of course, did not form
part of the original itinerary
and which was anything but
yet specifically what if.
At this point of the exercise
which, of course, had none
I was utterly speechless;
comprehensively confused;
by the absence of meaning;
by the meaning of absence;
whereupon I decided to abandon
conjunctions and revert
to contractual clauses.
...
13b iv: I can dispense with prescriptions.
The solution was clearly contaminated
by dissociation.
Upon waking, I dreamt guilty pleasures:
the stench of adolescence
a vision of darkest dawn;
colonic regurgitation of semiotic anomalies,
as prelude to afterthoughts afloat
beneath the syncopated smashing of air guitars.
Consciousness vented a defining silence
that I failed to acknowledge
and so it was I embarked upon
a voyage of uncovery,
the ultimate act of self-mutilation;
an examination of my conscience.
The opening challenge--location.
For this I would need a moral compass
to translate my posture
into degrees of shame.
The conjecture--one direction
which would lead me unerringly
to the trash.
Precision tools.
The vital requirement:
an instrument with the ability
to bore deep into the night
for which I felt certain
a keyboard would suffice.
A circular saw, for studying
cross-sections of endless arguments
citing damnation, eternity and beyond.
A microfibre glove
having no explicit purpose
but to stimulate
rumours of tampering
with evidence.
A coin for evaluation.
Right or wrong
a head is delivered
and I am nobody. 01/14/2014 Posted on 01/14/2014
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 01/14/14 at 12:08 PM *Another *****STELLAR*****masterpiece*
[this one especially grabbed me-love the title!] |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 01/14/14 at 01:37 PM a reconsideration and reconfiguring and recalculation a day, keeps the nobody away and keeps the poet delving in the realms of relevance of which yours is always worthy of noting and of mentioning in the same breath as someone who is someone standing out from the usual suspect. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/14/14 at 04:41 PM This one is a classic. I was laughing out loud after the first stanza. (I hope you don't mind, but your humor just kills more than time, it kills me :)) The tools, oh, the tools! Loved especially the circular saw's antics, not to mention phrases like "by the absence of meaning;
by the meaning of absence;" words are your play things. The last stanza has that funny/sad that hits home and is uniquely you. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 01/14/14 at 07:36 PM A brilliant piece of introspection Laura, and insight into your life and mind. Wish I had written this...glad you did...and shared it with us. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 01/14/14 at 10:06 PM Gifted with the use of words to foster thought. More meaningful than one would grasp at first reading. Tongue in cheek to the very end. |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 01/15/14 at 01:00 AM Specifically, what if? (I think your conceptual skillsaw answers the question.) |
| Posted by Dane Campbell on 01/18/14 at 06:26 AM
Your gifts as a writer are prodigious. You present your audience with a meticulously crafted poem that comes across as effortless. I find myself reading your work several times to absorb the full effect. Some writers have a way with words; you have your way with words, bending them to your artistic will. |
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