Sometimes everybody cries

Ah, as I go back and read these old blog posts, I sometimes marvel at where I was, and how far I've come. Damn, I was practically emo. This is another from 2007, where I honestly think I was at my best as a poet. The flow of this one is really fun, and I really love the little dig at the end. 

sensibility

©2007 Gregory S Rodenius

you had the sense
i was too sensitive
you had pretense
where i was just pensive
we walked side by side
yet I was behind you
kindred spirits allied?
(well, I had to remind you)

now each step we go through
is in different directions
(indifferent to you –
i still find intersections)
but you choose to neglect
to reflect on our history
i deflect; you project
it’s all part of the mystery

of what brought us together
or what keeps us apart
a change in the weather?
or a change of the heart?
so while you change your mind
from one day to the next
i just sit here blind;
i can’t find the subtext

so i'll watch you go
and i won’t try to stop you
and i think you should know
that i won’t try to top you
but if there is a last word
in this path that you’ve taken
in case you haven’t heard, babe –
you were mistaken.

the title of today's post is from REM's wonderful song 'everybody hurts'. the song has always been one of my favorites, but i just listened to Paul Potts' Italian version of it, and it just blew me away. brought tears to my eyes, actually. it's one of the best musical arrangements i've ever heard, and his voice is beautiful. i think that even if i hadn't known the original english lyrics, it would have made me cry. if you haven't heard it, i strongly recommend that you go try to find it.

i wrote that poem (well, most of it) a while back, but didn't feel it was appropriate to post at the time. but i kinda like it, so now that it's 'safe' i thought i'd throw it up here for your perusal. i imagine a lot of people who have known me over the years have a lot of different opinions of me, some good, some bad... maybe some both(!), but there is one thing that is almost universally misunderstood: i'm a hell of a lot stronger than you think. and while it might have taken me a long time to get here, and in some ways i had to fight against YOU (you know who you are - or aren't, since you don't read this shit. lol) to do it, i'm pretty fucking proud of who i am.

Human Debris

 Sometimes, I write stories. Well, I should say, sometimes, I USED to write stories. Just short stories (though I did try NaNoWriMo once, and got something like 20 or 30 thousand words in), where I'd try to set a scene and an emotion, and leave the reader to fill in the rest. This is one of them:

Human Debris

 

It wasn’t the first time my big mouth had gotten me into trouble, but it would prove to be the last. The impact of the first bullet, just below my ribcage, knocked the wind from me. I guess I had blinked at just that moment, and at first I couldn’t figure out how he had crossed the room so quickly and punched me. As I collapsed to the ground, I heard Katie’s scream… though it somehow sounded muted. It wasn’t until I noticed a dull ringing in my ears that I realized the bastard had had a gun. I was shot!

 

Panic began to set in, the more so when Katie rolled me over onto my back, and I saw the blood on her hands. I thought she had been shot too, then realized it was my blood that covered her. I felt…. weird. There were so many thoughts going through my mind at once, and it was like I couldn’t grab hold of any one idea. This strange combination of the rational and the irrational flew through my mind, so as part of me was wondering how much blood I had lost and if I was dying, another part of me was worried about Katie getting blood on the new nightgown that I had bought for her just last week. It was too expensive, but I’d wanted her to have it for the trip. I wanted to tell her to go get one of the motel’s towels to wipe up the blood, but all that came out was “bluhhhh…” She looked at me curiously for a moment, then began crying uncontrollably.

 

Finally, the most rational of thoughts flashed through my brain, and I wondered where Lewis was with that gun. That thought quickly took hold, and I tried to look around the small motel room. Katie was kneeling beside me on the floor, holding me to her, and sobbing quietly. Or maybe loudly; I still couldn’t hear very well. Either she knew Lewis had left, or she was in too much shock to care. Though in my weakening state my vision was blurry, and getting worse by the second, I tried to turn towards the open doorway where Lewis had been standing when this all began. But my motor skills were fading quickly, and I found I didn’t have the strength to lift my head.

 

I tried to take stock of the situation, but my mind seemed as blurry as my vision. I couldn’t move, I could barely see or hear or even think straight, I was bleeding to death in front of my wife, and I still didn’t know if the bastard who shot me was sticking around to make sure he finished the job.

 

I felt a jolt in my head as Katie suddenly dropped me to the floor, and I knew things were about to get worse. Gravity helped me turn my head to the side, and when I rolled my eyes up as far as they could go, I saw a blurry pair of cowboy boots just inches from the top of my head, standing toe to toe with Katie’s bare feet. There was this smudge of blood on the side of her leg, and it looked like it was in the shape of the state of California. Or was it a tattoo? Did Katie have a tattoo? I couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t I remember if my wife had a tattoo?

 

Strangely, while everything else in my body continued to fail me, my hearing was gradually returning. I heard the son of a bitch call Katie a whore, and in my rapidly diminishing mental state I had this overwhelming urge to bite his toes. I think I even got my head to move an inch or two toward that goal, when Katie’s feet suddenly disappeared from my side. I had this wildly irrational thought that she had learned how to fly, until I heard her body slam up against the wall across the room, and then I knew that he had tossed her aside to get to me.

 

With a clarity that bordered on supernatural, my hearing suddenly returned completely, and over the throbbing in my ears, and Katie’s screams, and even the shouts of some concerned citizens outside the open motel room door, I heard the solid metal click, as he cocked the pistol. Knowing I was about to die was not nearly as frustrating as the knowledge that there was nothing I could do about it. My mind spun like a misaligned bicycle tire, each cycle of thought rubbing against the next. I needed to tell Katie something, but I couldn’t think what it was. Something about life after me, about raising a family, or being happy, or having a future with someone else, or just knowing she was loved. There was too much, and the words – the thoughts – wouldn’t gel, and in the end, I knew I couldn’t speak anyway.

 

I could actually hear Katie lunge across the room towards Lewis, and I wanted to tell her that it was too late for me, that I was already destined to be just one more piece of human debris, and she needed to get out before this asshole decided to kill her too, but I knew I could no more stop her than she could have stopped me if the situation were reversed.

 

The next moment happened so fast, but it was all in slow motion in my mind. I saw a blur as Katie hit Lewis, and merely bounced off of him and fell to the floor next to me, and at the same time the room darkened as someone’s shadow filled the doorway. I heard a voice shout “Freeze, asshole! Drop the gun!” Unfortunately, I was the only one in the room who knew that Lewis was not going to give up until he was finished with me.

 

“No.” he said softly, more to me than whoever was at the door. Even without seeing, I could sense the insane smile creeping over his face, his dark eyes burning with fury and hatred, his crooked grin spreading over his crooked teeth. I could picture it clearly. I can picture it still. I heard nothing else, but the blindingly bright light that flashed from the muzzle encompassed all of my vision, and seemed to grow in a moment that lasted for eternity, until I was surrounded by whiteness…

 

…and nothing else.

 

©2007 Gregory S Rodenius

I'm all out of love

There used to be a writer's prompt website called "One Deep Breath" that I used for keyword prompts that inspired creativity. This photo is the result of one such prompt (The word to use was "container"). It is a loose version of a Japanese haiga (artwork accompanying a haiku, though I believe traditional haiga are supposed to be simple drawings or paintings). I had taken the photo earlier in the day, and had to find a way to shoehorn the prompt/poem into my picture. Lol. I did a couple dozen of these haiga back in the day, and would like to do more, so you can expect to see more show up here.

I've been through some dark days in the past month or so, with work and other general life stresses/setbacks, and my Dad's death a few weeks ago. The past couple days have seen the clouds parting a little, and I feel like I'm in the midst of an upswing.

The red, it filters through

This is from a blog post I wrote in 2006, I believe.

Inked

Darkly incandescent,
in your fits of rage,
burning your blackened words
upon the pristine page.
Beliefs alight on leafs of white,
but speak of ill intent;
when those who set your wayward ways
dismissed your clear dissent.

If pen were sword and God were love
the past would be impaled,
inkstains streaking blood red lines
where innocence was failed.
The pain would
drip
from poisoned words,
to deal deserved death,
and finding freedom in the purge,
you'd catch your baby's breath.

we all have our pasts to deal with, some of them inflicted with such venom upon us that we don't know how to overcome the infection in ourselves. this poem is my wish that her pain could be written away. sadly, it cannot. they say time heals all wounds, but i think it's safe to say that that is not true either. but love and understanding can make a difference. it may not right the wrongs, or bring the sick back to full health, but it can at least show that there is good in the world, and that you - kate - are worthy of love, despite what others have hurt you into believing. this poem was written with a wish, and with love.

The light, the heat.

A new poem I wrote 14 years ago:

in the eyes

Shimmering dusk spied through smoky grey;
clouded without, and burning within.
The glance cuts the haze,
as twilight’s final rays
cast a finish on what will begin.
Nighttime falls to stormy skies,
rumbling deep in resonance.
The thunder applauds
the brilliance of God,
and light takes up its residence.
Eyes aglow in the blinding strike;
wet with the promise of diminishing drought.
A lifetime of thirst
is quenched in the burst,
and with the flood goes the long reign of doubt.

©2006/2007 Me

My intent here is to publish some of my writings as I compile them into book form. I plan on giving a bit of a description or rationale for each poem, though some of the origins escape me now.

This one, from what I recall, was about the power of a glance, and the impact that a loving look can have on someone. I read a tweet today that said "A smile that reminds you that anything is possible." This is about that feeling, that power that happens when someone looks deep into your troubled soul, and doesn't flee in horror.