Dear God you can fuck yourself
nothing is as it used to be
like when poems wrote themselves
and you could always stare me down
i always smiled
from the left hand corner of my mouth
and drew flight paths on your stomach
you knew your skirt just covered you there
and i loved falling asleep before you
because i could forget this time tomorrow
I believe it is not fair that someone should be godlike in ur (not just u, everyone) life. Yet we all fall into the trap, and when we lose the person we try to look for the flaws to make things easier and get over them.
But I think as they still affect us, as we think of them one way or another, think of it logically, we r not over them.
When we compare every other person to them and think they are not up to the "standard" we r not over them.
When the pleasant memories come out bitter, we r not over them. When we r mad at them for not sticking by or maybe wanting the same things we want or share the same visions about the common life, we are not over them.
It is amazing how we can love someone, be mad at them and be sad and relieved at the same time that they left.
Yet the aftertaste of bitterness is what hangs there, we hold grudge and want to make them listen to the thousands of things we have to say.
Yes in our lives they can be god way after they leave. Maybe sometimes it is our mistake too, to have hung so much hopes on them and probably craved for them to fulfill our dreams and ideals.
I think this poem is about control in some sort of way. God controls all and in your life she was god. Somehow it is the rebellion of a puppet against the master when the puppet realizes that there are chains he did not ask for.
The illusion of pleasant memories comes out as a sarcasm, and the feelings are still acute.
So much feeling in this small piece.
Towards the end we notice that the man starts to realize what was going on and he tries to sleep it to oblivion, in a hope he is mistaken maybe or that things will change. Yet reality catches up and we see he is trying to forget about it all. Looking for the real closure, looking for the indifference we feel about the love story when we are really over our feelings and the person causing them.
Then and only then we can assess what happened, in a non-biased look.
What can I say, love can suck.
Great read though, I needed it.
anything that starts with Dear God you can [censored] yourself gets my attention. and if God is the master of time and he is responsible for all the things that pass and get away and leave us searching to recapture them, then yeah, I'm with you, go [censored] yourself...and as is usually the case when I read your stuff, I'm probably getting something totally different from what you intended, but this is what I see. memories, even the good ones, maybe especially the good ones, are painful. they always seem better than the present and always escape our grip, leaving us wanting. and while wanting is necessary to achieve, unrealistic standards lead to frustration and this is where I wind up most often.
as far as style goes, well, you're the master. who am I to tell you? but just so you know what I think, for whatever that is worth, I find the direct approach and the total lack of punctuation to meld wonderfully to create a piece of written art. and I know you will hate me for saying so.
my only question is about the capitalization of God. With the lack of reverence I find it to be a little contradictory considering the lack of capitalization everywhere else. It gives a lot of weight to the word, and with your disdain for this god, I would think you would not show him such respect. (I would lose the capital D as well)
and of course that's just one man's opinion and your's is all that matters here. nice to read your work again after a long layoff.
i think it's a while since i've heard your uncompromising tone. welcome back. and to your uncompromising tone. you seem to deal with upset in a straightforward way - in a way that is not overblown or careless with the word count. and i guess in some ways it seems that you preferred the then to the now. i detect and also like a note of petulance - it is incongruous from a 20-something whose track record is of more obtuse but nonetheless deep felt sentiment. but it is human and suggests vulnerability which sits well with the balance of the poem. and this is much more in our faces and immediately in need of an answer although from the phrasing and the running on of lines, you know that you're not going to get one. neither are we... i suppose this is, in its condensed form a drawn out sigh but there is no time for that. too busy and things to do. where this works most in my view is that, for the first time in a long time for me i am able to accept something without punctuation completely at face value, because it compels me to wait and look for the exclam or the comma or the semi colon which in turn makes me look again and have a think. and understand. yes; a lot to take in in a short space of line. take it easy, k