deficits
long ago
in another's time
I always knew somehow
it'd come to these lines
you've forgotten me
I've remembered you
basically I know you know
some still true things
some things I thought
you would keep
I know even less
but here it matters more
here it makes me long
ago like a murder in a storm
the things you wouldn't say
the memories on vinyl now
slipping past this panic'd day
each morning's waste
I'm usually alcoholic
in this vision
my bible opened
my sins recorded
for anyone to see
you were always
so very much smarter
than me
From 1975. Another piece tracking through the desert that was my relationship with Alison Clare Gaughan. It is so very clear what a wretched loser I was in this scene. Yet she wandered in orbit from 1972 though 1986 when finally I said we have nothing to talk about now. What did she really want from me? Why was it necessary to make me dance that sad and pathetic male dance? I really don't know. I do know that so much of my seventies self revolved around her that there was almost nothing left when I came to understand that she had played me all that time. Maybe she meant well. Maybe she did love me. She said she did. But probably there wasn't anything she could really do. She just was being realistic. She needed a male that would pony up the bucks for the life she desired. I know this because you can find out anything on the web and I didn't even have to pay for the info. It lies out there for anyone to find. What a waste of our time this all turned out to be. Did I learn something? I don't really think so. Perhaps, even if someone is your friend and you trust them it doesn't mean they will tell you the truth. Alison lied to me, several times about important things. And I just let her. Well, she will be forced to deal with all this, and probably much more, when she crosses over. May the Lady show Her some kind of mercy.
in another's time
I always knew somehow
it'd come to these lines
you've forgotten me
I've remembered you
basically I know you know
some still true things
some things I thought
you would keep
I know even less
but here it matters more
here it makes me long
ago like a murder in a storm
the things you wouldn't say
the memories on vinyl now
slipping past this panic'd day
each morning's waste
I'm usually alcoholic
in this vision
my bible opened
my sins recorded
for anyone to see
you were always
so very much smarter
than me
From 1975. Another piece tracking through the desert that was my relationship with Alison Clare Gaughan. It is so very clear what a wretched loser I was in this scene. Yet she wandered in orbit from 1972 though 1986 when finally I said we have nothing to talk about now. What did she really want from me? Why was it necessary to make me dance that sad and pathetic male dance? I really don't know. I do know that so much of my seventies self revolved around her that there was almost nothing left when I came to understand that she had played me all that time. Maybe she meant well. Maybe she did love me. She said she did. But probably there wasn't anything she could really do. She just was being realistic. She needed a male that would pony up the bucks for the life she desired. I know this because you can find out anything on the web and I didn't even have to pay for the info. It lies out there for anyone to find. What a waste of our time this all turned out to be. Did I learn something? I don't really think so. Perhaps, even if someone is your friend and you trust them it doesn't mean they will tell you the truth. Alison lied to me, several times about important things. And I just let her. Well, she will be forced to deal with all this, and probably much more, when she crosses over. May the Lady show Her some kind of mercy.
posted by As Bjorn at 8:44 PM
2 Comments:
Oh, Tim! Is it strange that I like these poems the most out of everything I've read on this site? I hope you take that as a compliment and not a slight, because I've found a lot of clever insight in your work.
These poems are dated in the way I like -- with a measure of reflection that allows me to take a tentative peep into a time before my birth. It certainly sounds like for most of my duration on the planet, and a long while before, you've had horrible luck with women, and it reassures me that you've finally found peace and true love in the end. At the same time, the second-guessing and heartbreak that you have had to go through to get to that point are not-so-reassuring aspects that leave me with a weird chill.
Why do you continue to give creative precedence to these and similar down-trodden, heart-trampled works? You claim that you have not forgiven this woman. Are you searching for a complete understanding of your relationship to her and others in order to eventually forgive? Is the notion that you have not forgiven her a shameful admission, or a show of willful pride? It is clear that whatever the answers to those questions are, the relevance is completely in YOUR feelings, and far departed from anything that might affect her life at this point. How unfortunate - for her.
Marion, you are a remarkable audience, quite unafraid to say the truthful things. I do strive for a honesty with myself in dredging up and trying to "fix" these poems. I work to understand what it was I was trying to accomplish in them in the first place, thirty years ago.
This weird relationship effected my life in a very deep way and mainly in a negative way. yet, there was much good that existed between us. But romance is a very sneaky thing and we all want what we want.
the notion that I haven't forgiven her is both shameful admission and willful pride. Perhaps it defines what my problem in this existence actually is: the inability to forgive the world for being itself. I sometimes wonder this when I see Piper requiring existence to be something it cannot be, day for night, night for day.
But the truth is I don't really know what to make of it. William Butler Yeats spent his entire life trying to figure out what happened with him and Maude Gaughan, and it is a famous literary bit of gossip now. Did he get some good poems out of it? Yes. I think in working on these pieces I am trying to rescue something of value from my own error.
thanks for the very kind words. You know I truly respect the intellect and heart that is Marion.
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