When all else Fails -------------------------------------------
Paranoia
Cha Cha Cha
wrap my eyes
in disbelief
I close my eyes when I cross the street
Paranoia, Paranoia
and then some
I watched him float away as I cut the string
my disbelief is everything
it is lighter than air
this makes the world go round
as they say
more so than my clitoral palpitations
your words are ten inches from my ear
the phone cuts out at a crucial time
your feet are a thousand miles behind your words
so I will call you a liar
it would be trite of me to call this a roller coaster
I will call it a smooth ride on a suicide death bomb
that on its good days
goes off only a block before the crowded street
oh fuck me now, I am ranting
lets go cut ourselves
and use the blood to paint more teenage tragedy
lets go get some piercings along with lobotomies and reverse white privilege
last night I dreamt of bulldozers and gang rape
and the scariest thing was the bull dozer
because I realized that this hole I've dug
is way too deep for seed
and the car slid off that uneven slide before I realized that I didn’t need you
The first two lines were fan-fuccing-tastic! Kinda reminds me of beavis and butthead...."diarhea cha cha cha" Anyway with that said it sounds like you are going through a bad breakup of some sort. The last few pieces I read all point to that and I can relate. I have just recovered from one myself. Take care. 6
Hey, I am just a random passer-by who read your poems. I read " when all else fails", it is really good, i like the setup of it and i like how it catches peoples imagination. Keep up the writing and let teh imagination flow!
Your stuff is stirring and emphasizes aspect of a rocky relationship in a strange and inviting way. I love the lines:
"it would be trite of me to call this a roller coaster
I will call it a smooth ride on a suicide death bomb that on its good days goes off only a block before the crowded street"
awesome... very awesome.
I also like the fact that you don't strive to stick to a format, you're just writing what you feel -- whatever comes into your head... no worries about whether it's cliché or does this rhyme with that.
Gripping and potent stuff here. Seems like this one came more from the gut than the mess of mushy grey stuff we carry around between our ears. This is all the rage of 'instinct' tugging you this way and that...throwing your heart (and perhaps your ego) around like a ragdoll.
Its intriguing to see strong women get tossed around like this. Y'all are possessed of an emotional verity we men are incapable of. If we could manage to be this honest our ramblings wouldn't make any sense...because we'd be fu.cking insane by then.
And what do you mean "oh twack stopped by to critique me", or whatever it was you said.
I like your poetry man. And furthermore, in my modest opinion of things, you have shown continual improvement since i've been reading you.
Been reading Maya Angelou today. This poem reminds me of something she might have written.
And if that clit gives you too much fuss...just give her a frig.
Well I needed to comment, and I found This. Quite amazing too. Why am I such an idiot? Ok.
Here you have everything, it's discomforting, it's tragic, it's dark, it's something uncontrollable and hits the very essence of human outrage, despair, anger---all towards vanity.
Something in between, a midpoint with one of those moments where there is total chaos and when we stand naked and disillusioned at some inconceivable depravity.
You rely on direct contact and the brute force of emotion rather than imagery or perfection in form.
You use the most fundamental of fears---one of inexistence (of your love) in the eye of another and use it in the context of Now.
This is true despair.
Yet there is a second dimensiion, not the sarcasm but albeit hope---just at the voluntary stop you take---that it is just a prelude or maybe a misunderstand until a final revelation or third revelation.
I think. My 2 cents worth.
Oh and I must say your poem that refers to Rockefeller, H Alger, and the Triangle Shirt Waist Fire is something I better understand now. (Now that my US Hist class went over those topics)
And also, it takes time for me to really be 'broken' in as I am overprotective of myself on a social level but I should learn to know that there isn't anything to protect from You. I usually rethink alot of what I do---the smallest things such as my tone of voice and how I handle a conversation and how I delve to deeply into the logic driven mechanics of it and such.
I guess I wish I said something that wasn't so damned superficial.
"lets go cut ourselves and use the blood to paint more teenage tragedy"
the nihilism flows as always. the social commentary at least 3 feet thick on this one. the personal is about twice that deep.
Really liked the scattered layout of the piece. i think it lends itself to the flutter of thoughts that follows words detached from bodies thousands of miles away.
"your feet are a thousand miles behind your words
so I will call you a liar"
In this postmodern disconnect, half of our interactions fall into this definition of a liar.
hahahaha .. I had to make a little dance as I read that ..like the sarcastic dance you do as if all is good ..when really whispers seems to bludegon you at the back of the skull round every corner .. or something like that ..
It sounds like one of those relationships that are conventient..maybe used to be good .. but not something you see a future in .. it reminds me much of my flatmates dilemmas at the moment..where they are still together in some way, but neither of them know why. There are many forms of love, and some form of connection, or compassionate .. friendly link to a person ..I dont think should be enough to keep holding hands in a dead end run ..
pity the detonations and explotions sometimes tear off some tissue and limbs and whatnot and can make some scar tissue that doesnt really heal .. even if you dress it up and say its ok .. i dunno .. relationships are a difficult thing .. i've stayed away from them for about a year now .. heh ..
;... cough syrup and video games ? .. what kind of games ? .. ..I'm honoured and such things, I'm glad the cat picture did some good to add to depth and whatnots. that's good . ..and conserning accents, .. I'm a norwegian living in new zealand .. I 'm sure I wouldn't deem your accent very generic. It would be foreign and strange and very accenty to me ... surely .. heh ..
last night I dreamt of bulldozers and gang rape and the scariest thing was the bull dozer because I realized that this hole I've dug is way too deep for seed
nicely put .. I can see the buldozer that would have run over and not harm little holes with seeds, but would come crashing down into a deep hole .. you know .. good attention catching images ..
meh anyways .. not much of a criticism .. more ofa rant .. be good you ..
I wouldn't change a word of this, and Jase just did a number 11 on a scale of 10 with interpretation. So I'll have to go with thematic aperception (that's actually a psychological test involving drawings shown to the subject developed by Henry Stack Sullivan) and tell you I can relate. Long distance love sucks and unless one of you is willing to move, it rivals having your heart run though the vacuum.
Yes, you do have to take the sound coming from the telephone as a lie. No, there isn't time to spend on the phone either, it's a waste. I feel your pain,oh and get those bloody teenagers out of my sight.
ouch, screamy this one hurts.. hope it's better soon,
This has such lyricism to it. I read it with a cha-cha beat and it came out rather nicely... you dance the dance of disbelief... you're paranoid but you close your eyes when you cross the street? This is a paradoxical statement yet it fits with this paranoic view you have stated in your poem... I don't know why but it fits.
I watched him float away as I cut the string my disbelief is everything it is lighter than air
this makes the world go round as they say more so than my clitoral palpitations
your words are ten inches from my ear the phone cuts out at a crucial time your feet are a thousand miles behind your words
so I will call you a liar
Here we go with your suspended disbelief as you cut the strings of love and commitment from your previous loved one (I am assuming here). Clitoral palpitations? I must admit I sniggered when I read this (me being a self-confessed frothing wildebeest in your presence like I just wrote to you not too long ago lol).
When the next line features 'ten inches' this really gets my mind going in disturbing tangents... the last two lines seem quite literal to me - this fella seems to talk too much for his own good - a bit of a smooth talker huh? Just my perception of it.
it would be trite of me to call this a roller coaster
I will call it a smooth ride on a suicide death bomb that on its good days goes off only a block before the crowded street
oh fuck me now, I am ranting
lets go cut ourselves and use the blood to paint more teenage tragedy
lets go get some piercings along with lobotomies and reverse white privilege
This is sickeningly entertaining and quite satirical. I really liked the 'teenage tragedy' part - I know it's not meant to be funny but I couldn't help laughing at your subversions of teenage 'oh god, my world is ending so kill me' angsty whiney crap.
Piercings and lobotomies? You're a freakin' crackup. The ranting line is hilarious too.
last night I dreamt of bulldozers and gang rape and the scariest thing was the bull dozer because I realized that this hole I've dug is way too deep for seed
and the car slid off that uneven slide before I realized that I didn’t need you
but before I declare this in some wistful way
when all else fails
and the detonator blows
I cant help but still love you
You paint a disturbing metaphor in the bulldozer/gang rape scenario. You draw attention to the bulldozer's hole being too deep for seed, but my mind still goes back to gang rape, which is as I said, quite disturbing. But this is your story and how you feel. It definitely got my attention... and you indirectly state how much shit you've dug yourself in - that gang rape is just an allusion to how really screwed you're feeling.
With the car metaphor, you again state how he is not wanted or needed etc. Then you bring back the roller-coaster suicide bomb metaphor going off. It all fits. Yet you still love him after all the explosions and mayhem.
Such is love.
Well, I went through this rather thoroughly didn't I, Sergeant Screaminator? I hope what I've said makes sense to you - but then, this is just my subjective analysis.
Peace and flying cows with ribbons, Jase
P.S. I'm glad you posted this - you know I said I liked it... so yea.
This is an H-bomb of a rant with a former lover as ground zero and nightmares at the epicenter (and about as spectacularly written as this form of expression can get). Every bit of this is brutal (although I'm not totally sold on the Beavis and Butthead anti-Daria opening, it seems an appropriate means of relating how the man dissed you). When all else fails, say 'I love you' and move on? I can't imagine the Valkyrie that penned this making peace any time soon (although anything is possible, I imagine him vaporized). Nicely written little bomb run; message loud and clear. Take care. Bill.
Submission Name: When all else Fails
