ThePasserby
12-29-2005, 01:39 AM
I can never remember when or why I wrote this. It's the longest poem I ever wrote, and I really have no idea what it's about. It's also not finished.
- I -
We all lived together. We all slept together.
We did everything we could think of together.
There was a reason for it, perhaps.
But it was lost on us long ago
as with our money.
The sheer mention of joy
entered our ears as if through a syphon
and a million ideas conjured on each of our fingertips.
We held each others' hands.
Turning down the hallway, we grabbed our coats,
the shovels, the paddles, the flashlights, the food and drink in discardable cases
axes, saws, hammers, our brand new machettes, whatever we could muster,
held it all in our long arm, and pulled it along
whether it wanted to come or not.
That was our first offense, I suppose.
We piled into the boat, teetering as we laughed and piled the gear inside.
I think it was still dark, but I may be thinking in terms of relativity,
for our man Cedric turned and said, "To greener pastures!"
And we laughed between the most brilliant lights you've ever seen
guiding us in blindness straight down the river.
I call it a river, but it was a creek.
Everyone else called it a creek.
I never really did fit in.
So, we had pointed our lights down the river, and I don't believe daytime
ever left our side again.
They rowed down the creek, and I rowed down the river, but none of us really knew where we were.
Not that it mattered. We didn't want to. We didn't have to.
I always managed to look up through the trees to find the sun.
I remember one day,
back when I was a child,
I fell on something
and I do mean hard.
I could swear they were all there to help me up.
In all my tries, I only ever found the moon.
In our passions, I could swear
that when we came ashore,
We turned our raft into a tank,
rolled through the bramble in their flank
and leaving nothing in our wake
while arching onwards towards their core
to throw their heads to the floor.
- II -
May and June always seemed to favor us.
We had known Sharol for a long time.
She put flowers in her hair.
It was never because it was attractive, and how,
but because she enjoyed to be a part
of what she no longer could achieve.
After a while, we began to accept her,
and she accepted us,
allowing us to pick her flowers.
They always withered.
Sharol and Stella never really got along,
but they thought they did.
Whenever Sharol's bees would come,
Stella would take them and add them
to her collection.
We never minded. We never told.
Sometimes, we watched.
Once, we were.
- III -
I remember one day,
back when I was a child,
we pulled together, and could not move it.
I fell on something
and I do mean hard.
My hands had slipped, and I cracked my elbow on a stone.
I could swear they were all there to help me up.
I know they weren't,
But they are now.
New lights came through the bramble.
Ours began to dim against theirs.
It was beginning to grow on us.
A million ideas conjured on each of our fingertips.
We held each other's hands.
We could see their silhouettes spreading across their lights
- IV -
May carried flowers, and June carried bugs, but July always meandered among the clouds, lighting our way.
He was an odd one, Cedric was.
The July tree was always intrepid.
I brought my leaves, crumbling as they were.
When they cut down the July tree,
they also came to pick May's flowers,
and the gruesome acts they did to June's bugs bear no need of mention.
They left me, crumbling as I was.
I never really fit in, anyway.
- I -
We all lived together. We all slept together.
We did everything we could think of together.
There was a reason for it, perhaps.
But it was lost on us long ago
as with our money.
The sheer mention of joy
entered our ears as if through a syphon
and a million ideas conjured on each of our fingertips.
We held each others' hands.
Turning down the hallway, we grabbed our coats,
the shovels, the paddles, the flashlights, the food and drink in discardable cases
axes, saws, hammers, our brand new machettes, whatever we could muster,
held it all in our long arm, and pulled it along
whether it wanted to come or not.
That was our first offense, I suppose.
We piled into the boat, teetering as we laughed and piled the gear inside.
I think it was still dark, but I may be thinking in terms of relativity,
for our man Cedric turned and said, "To greener pastures!"
And we laughed between the most brilliant lights you've ever seen
guiding us in blindness straight down the river.
I call it a river, but it was a creek.
Everyone else called it a creek.
I never really did fit in.
So, we had pointed our lights down the river, and I don't believe daytime
ever left our side again.
They rowed down the creek, and I rowed down the river, but none of us really knew where we were.
Not that it mattered. We didn't want to. We didn't have to.
I always managed to look up through the trees to find the sun.
I remember one day,
back when I was a child,
I fell on something
and I do mean hard.
I could swear they were all there to help me up.
In all my tries, I only ever found the moon.
In our passions, I could swear
that when we came ashore,
We turned our raft into a tank,
rolled through the bramble in their flank
and leaving nothing in our wake
while arching onwards towards their core
to throw their heads to the floor.
- II -
May and June always seemed to favor us.
We had known Sharol for a long time.
She put flowers in her hair.
It was never because it was attractive, and how,
but because she enjoyed to be a part
of what she no longer could achieve.
After a while, we began to accept her,
and she accepted us,
allowing us to pick her flowers.
They always withered.
Sharol and Stella never really got along,
but they thought they did.
Whenever Sharol's bees would come,
Stella would take them and add them
to her collection.
We never minded. We never told.
Sometimes, we watched.
Once, we were.
- III -
I remember one day,
back when I was a child,
we pulled together, and could not move it.
I fell on something
and I do mean hard.
My hands had slipped, and I cracked my elbow on a stone.
I could swear they were all there to help me up.
I know they weren't,
But they are now.
New lights came through the bramble.
Ours began to dim against theirs.
It was beginning to grow on us.
A million ideas conjured on each of our fingertips.
We held each other's hands.
We could see their silhouettes spreading across their lights
- IV -
May carried flowers, and June carried bugs, but July always meandered among the clouds, lighting our way.
He was an odd one, Cedric was.
The July tree was always intrepid.
I brought my leaves, crumbling as they were.
When they cut down the July tree,
they also came to pick May's flowers,
and the gruesome acts they did to June's bugs bear no need of mention.
They left me, crumbling as I was.
I never really fit in, anyway.