Monday, February 2

Cold war geography.

They tell me angels are dead.
The city of angels, the pride of brooklyn,
The sleeping nights
Where we wandered, pondered, lied
To one another
And could it be??
The love we never showed each other led
To our loneliness and unholiness
Whenever days are mentioned
Skies cry out and spill tears all over
Stubbornly cry out a good life;
I wanted castles if you remember
And you preferred ponies and ponytails
But we were off the rails,
I've never felt so strongly a scary pull
For anyone else but you and you
Couldn't have cared less but you did truly
Love me, in was written in your
Bleached and frozen smile, in your darkest eyes.
Something under the bleachers
A craze, a mirror of the afternoon
Beneath a solar storm, white on black
We danced over unsaid things
And never found what we were seeking,
Like the most beautiful flower
Stillborn in an unseasonal frost
We lost everything.
But we take our breaths now,
One at a time like anyone else, and how
Do we put into perspective
All those years we shoved into days
Into minutes, into snapshots-
How did I let you go, or you me? It was
I won't say golden. But it was golden,
And platinum, and forest green and blue and silver
And every shade between, we lost
And never found again such secret things
As cold war geography
Terrorist plots to keep you from
Holding me. And lots of crazy men, they
Surrounded you. And lots of mistaken girls,
They absconded me, they taunted me
But I was always taken by you
YOU, do you hear me??
I was next in line for eternity
Willing to drum in 5/7 time
Or discover dark things and make
Them irresistibly precious, just for you.
And I couldn't care less about the world
Were it not for you. And I've never
Lost my soul, if I had such a thing
Like I did for you,
Just to be with you.
We put our greenthumbs together
And killed a landscape of hope
Frozen orchids forever tangled
Two beautiful people dreaming the same thing
Lost the plot and felt the rope
As the tide swings, and the chair is kicked
You say you'll be with me forever,
But forever only meant a day
In our minds. And lifetimes
Stand or fall based on far less than that.
I know you are in your room drawing.
And you know that I am here,
In my drawing room writing, and you are there
Where I can never reach, like a star vaulted
Into the sky, most beautiful and brightest
In all the heavens
A forever thing, still feeling
What I thought you'd see
As I was falling.
And it's only cold war geography
That keeps our hearts from thawing.
And effervescent kisses, blown wishes,
I tacked you into my night sky
With razorblades; You were high on trying
To be free, but Nicola, under
Black-inked heavens never dreamt in
Other women's philosophies
You always knew it was me, and
You always fled from perfect things
Even as our fateful day was dawning.

4 comments:

Hans said...

powerful & insightful - it read like a rap, quickly, but easy to understand since it wasn't shouted at me. I liked it very much

Metamatician said...

Thank you. Good point about it being kind of staccato in its flow, and I like it too maybe partly for that reason.

It's like a run-on sentence that doesn't let up, but doesn't (to me) seem to get tedious either just to do so, to make some stylistic point. It's natural.

And the personal part, the subject matter itself, is more a letting go, an ablution, than anything else, looking back but not hopeful and not too melodramtic, more a sober assessment of a long dream.

And in a way that feels good too.

Hans said...

well, then it's even better - letting go is hard, but going forward feels that much better.

Metamatician said...

I suppose so. It's bittersweet, like a lot of things.

Archived Posts

Search The Meta-Plane