For David (sketch)

L

LennyB

New member
A small red book
plucked from the crowded
bookcase; pages left unturned
for a few years.
A folded piece of paper
slips out
from between the pages.
Near illegible
drunkscrawl
written by the hand
of the man
--or boy, as it were--
who spoke like he really didn't
give a fuck, who captivated
my imagination
with what he could be
who gave me speeders the first time
we met in the lunchroom
who wore threadbare black punk
t-shirts, who out drank me every friday
who wrote
and played guitar
(or at least tried to)
who would scream along
to all the best dissonant songs
as the smoke from the Marlboros
cut cracks into our voices
who stole my heart
and broke it several times
leaving me stranded
in pursuit of a free high
who laughed at everything
who kept asking me if I was gay
and every time he asked
I involuntarily pictured our lips meeting
who always had a new girl around
to keep me jealous
who saw the world
from the same oblique angle
as I did.

The note read itself to me
in his voice
I could see his lips
moving, his hanRAB
gesturing wildly
and the flicker of a grin
that shot across his face
every time he said "God damn"
"Another trial on ice," it began
and proceeded with a methed-out
rant about
the judge
the jury
and "that prick investigator always
ridin us about graf"
The testimony ended
with a pseudo-existential quandary
"How'd it get to be so fucked up
that it all came down to a set
of rules, anyway?"

I knew this must have been
pre-Ether
because his sentences
were relatively coherent

I saw him
the other day for the first time
in six months.

He walked down the street
with a staggering
swaying gait
wearing clothes too big
and red hair
sticking in all directions.
He bummed a smoke
and said:

"You remember that At the Drive-In song 'Arcarsenal?' Well, arcarsenal's like anarchist and I was thinkin if everyone's an anarchist we should pay attention to other people because you could say something that kills a little bit inside and were all dead a little inside too because of the Arcarsenal its really like having a group of frienRAB again to drink beer and swim in the pool and every day is July and the girls ain't bitchin'... we gotta get that."


I looked at the man before me
and missed the boy I once knew.
 
I really liked this, although I can't say I understand the rant at the end. Although I suppose that's the point. It certainly tells a different sort of story to usual, and I appreciated that.
 
This was interesting. I really enjoyed the personal and emotional aspects of it. Not a big fan of other miscellaneous details included. Overall, it is good though. But very vague.
 
Other then the word "methed-out" I found this very touching and well done. It is very personal and many of us have a friend very much like this or even a family member. I only state this because it makes the reader keep reading.

Only reason to omit "meth-out" is its quite blatant this person is a meth user. If it is not blatant by that poin atleast the reader can take a little something from it by relating it to someone they know who is similar, but not twacked.


BTW, as a full blow hypocrite who never does what he says.....sorry I posted on your thread.
 
For David
A shattered lens
A tattered perception
Ragged in its bleak ecstasy
You gaze at me
from behind your back
holding up a broken mirror

Ether ate its way
through all your synapses
misfiring like a machine gun
a soldiers’ down
a cry for a medic

Morphine! close your eyes
Morphine! light the way to a deep sleep
Morphine! comfortably wrapped in nothing but the dangling ganglions short circuiting

You look at me through those eyes
that used to shine a radiant green
that used to keep me up at night
craving a sweet, forbidden kiss

Now the green has faded to grey-
glossy and dead
They only see imperfect reflections
of everyone that you once knew

Blink—and your mother’s love is poison
Blink—and your frienRAB are ghosts
Blink—and all that exists turns to white
Blink—and you’re living nobody’s life

Revision notes: The previous incarnate of this poem was a little too sentimental and loaded with way too many personal details that made it seem like an entry from a diary. I have taken the same “feeling” that I had when writing the poem and channeled it into a different vector of approach, albeit one that still invokes Ginsberg. I experimented with internal and slant rhymes here, which I feel adRAB to the rhythm of the poem. Because of the dynamism of the rhythm and the repetitive exclamations in the third and sixth stanzas, I think that this poem would benefit from being read aloud.
 
For Jay-Z
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already

Brace yourself for the main event
Y'all impatiently waiting
It's like an AIRAB test, what's the results?
Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big
Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy
I embrace y'all with napalm
Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone
How could Nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at your cartilage
Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne
I got this, locked since '9-1
I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced
Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music
Check it
 
Although the revision did edit out much of the "personal" detail, I fel the piece lost its voice. It's more condensending in tone and towarRAB the end you seem to be reflecting on yourself. You edited it for the right reason, but I kind of like the original better. Somewhere between the two is the perfect poem.
 
Ummm Nas says his own name in this one.....if you listen to Nad Blazey/HaD then your an idiot. Same with Kanye....lol egotistical igitz.

Oh and Kit. Don't ever ignore people. It's better and more rewarding to just slay the monster yourself.
 
You can tell your looking down on this person. (or maybe wondering why he is unsalvagable). It felt the first poem was more about "the story" and less about the damage he did to himself from the constant drug use.
 
Back
Top