When I sat down late last night (actually early morning hours today) I had glanced at the words from 3WW, and decided to write something primarily for We Write Poem’s prompt #20, to simply write a stream-of-consciousness piece. What you see here is an unpolished first essential draft of what came forth. I chose not to touch it any further, or dress it, but to let it be, fundamentally unembellished, just as it came. It disturbs me, and that compels me to share it. I am calling it:
(be advised, this is raw on several levels)
•
a grey malaise settles round
shrouds right down to the ground
to face myself in this
cuts deep and jagged
bloody to the bone
I am not one
not a good one
oh I celebrated the sap of youth
in the gaggle of my buds
In the band of my salt brothers
we laughed and surged
with lust for the ladies
straddled us a few
when we weren’t thrown over
the heat and steel
of our low-slung two-wheeled cocks
all combustin’ in a hammer thrash
rollin’ in a roar and frenzy
4-cycle sex rockets
and how the ladies liked to ride
they’d get right down
and squeeze it with their thighs
wrapped snug
painted in denim
to feel it pulse and throb
then explode down the asphalt
their asses clenched to hang on tight
to feel the rush
the tease of the G’s
made them weak in their knees
wet as a summer downpour
ready as a bimbo-slut
but I was seldom really there
for them
I took more than my fair share
my gait was bold and brash
with but a nudge
took gladly more than my share
proudly present – but not there
for anyone
not for my gang of guys
I loved them for what they were
for me
not for who they were
I was never one
just my way of brooding lonely
without being alone
my youth was my show
my production
with an ever-evolving cast
little more than familiar extras
important in that I needed them
to flesh out my soft parade
cause I was never really one
I was there for me
and my loins
and my needs
and my fears
and my insecurities
and my my my
I just was never one
I broke the rules
I fucked the rules completely
playin’ out my sad control game
terrified of letting go
playin’ hard on their needs
to wrap up tight
inside their fear and joy
to make it mine
to take it down inside my darkness
and hunker over ‘til it cooled
then scrubble out to grab some more
I wrapped them in my clever ways
and bundled them in laughter
I was good at laughter
dispensed it freely
but never gave it away
it was my tool
my hook
my way of hangin’ on
steerin’ the procession
takin’ in and hoardin’
I was the cutting clown
laughter by cutting down
on those that gathered ‘round
to watch me dance
to sing and prance
to celebrate my “specialness”
my talents and great gifts
my illusions
but I was never really there
not to elevate them
because I wasn’t one
I dealt with them
and rushed it through
to get back to me
never did do “you” — that well
I just wasn’t one
never knew how
never trusted
emotionally scarred
mentally brutalized as a child
by trust
until I abandoned trust
never gave it
never honored it
never believed it was real
too frightened to trust trust
still a scared little boy
I broke all the rules
of friendship
shattered them
and now I regret it so
I am in the shadow of my death
my body lays siege to my life
my heart is final stage failure
and now I need
what I never gave
never really understood
true friendship
gave acquaintance on a grand scale
but not friendship
not as a young man
when the seeds of such
are fresh to plant
to take the long and lasting root
and ripen through the years
I missed the season
to quote the Floyd
the race has run
I missed the starting gun
I have had 3 wives
still married
and I have children
have their blessed love
no one who knew me
as an arrogant young man
would have believed then
that I’d manage that miracle
but no deep enduring friends
dark grey malaise settles round
shrouds right down to the ground
and now I am so sorry
such deep regret
it seems too late
for meaningful friendship
I broke the rules
I’m paying the price
* * *
rob kistner © 2010
• this also satisfies the 9/22 prompt at Three Word Wednesday,
and prompt #71 at Carry On Tuesday.