poe-TRAH for j00

Discussion in 'The Creative Corner' started by Sir Peechizworth, Nov 16, 2006.

  1. Sir Peechizworth

    Sir Peechizworth TPF Noob!

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    Location:
    Nagoya, Japan
    Fuse

    There are times when inspiration lights a flame inside me and I don’t mean this metaphorically. I can feel the heat make it’s way through my feet as it grows up and out, and envelops the rest of me, like an angel giving me the best backrub ever, or the moment I first step into a steaming hot shower. There are times, when inspiration lights my insides on fire like my spine was a wick, and I mean it when I say that it’s tangible.

    I can feel energy vibrating up my spine, a heat from that outside that made it’s way in as sound waves, a spirit that hits my ear and travels like sonar to my brain where it sets off a bomb. Like the high I get from coffee and a good book curled up with me on a soft chair, or the silence right before thunder.

    Don’t EVER let anyone tell you that words are empty. Because I can feel words inside me like ‘incendiary’ and ‘arson’ and I want to take this heat and use it to make someone else warm like a fireplace in December and brand new pajamas, because a fire that sits stagnant will eventually burn out, but if I can share this flame then the two of us might just burn a little brighter, a little longer.

    And I’ve written enough poems to know that inspiration and heat are the same thing. That flint and steel is the best idea that butane ever had. That when your pulse races at a rock concert, and you sweat with a hundred other people in awe of the same song, that the combined total rise temperature is nothing but the product of a chemical reaction between guitars and spotlights.

    Because sometimes, you don’t even need words to set someone on fire. I’ve seen people ignite entire crowds with just one note tumbling down from their lips, or dripping off guitar strings, bass frets, and snare drums. So if I the words I speak are too fast, if the beat has left you breathless, or if you tripped over a phrase I said in the last stanza and missed everything else I said until now, all you have to do

    Is listen

    To this voice.

    To listen with that beat in your chest and embrace the syncopation between the microphone and your pulse. To concentrate on consonants or pour over vowels and feel how desperately this poem wants you

    To listen.

    Listen to this voice
    Listen to your voice
    Love everyone around you like it’s your last day on this rock
    And breath every last inch of your spirit into everything you do
    So that you can die spent,
    Completely exhausted
    Knowing you either saved the world, or tried to.

    Because the energy that you expend every day leaves your body as heat.
    And with enough of that, I’ve heard tell even the mountains themselves will catch fire.


    This H is for Heart

    I was dropped
    Hit the ground like another Hiroshima
    BOOM
    Blew bits of me all over the walls of my brain
    And staggered forth
    little more than a silhouette
    against the land of the rising sun

    And I wandered
    All over the place, looking for me
    Because in the chaos, I forgot
    That I’m always right where I’ve been
    And that you, are all right where you belong

    Someone told me once when you die
    The priest says a prayer
    To call all the bits of your soul back together again
    From the people you left it with
    That your soul is something
    You give away wrapped in smiles,
    That’s why when someone leaves you
    Its easy to feel
    Hollow

    Until you realize
    That they didn’t leave you empty hearted
    Just empty handed.

    And it’s true,
    That memories don’t give great hugs
    And words can’t wipe away those tears
    The years go by heedless of pleas
    To please,
    Just,
    Stop

    For a moment.
    So in the space between a hummingbird’s wing
    I could, bring myself back to everyone.
    To walk on waves and hop canyons
    And send myself like a postcard
    To everyone I’ve ever met,
    And everyone I’ve yet to

    So that before time could start back up again
    I could give you my heart like a care-package
    And whisper softly

    Take care of this. I’m coming back for it.

    Someone told me once when you die
    The priest says a prayer
    To call all the bits of your soul back together again
    From the people you left it with

    That your soul is something
    You give away wrapped in smiles,
    That’s why when someone leaves you
    Its easy to feel
    Hollow

    Until you realize
    That I didn’t leave you empty hearted
    Just empty handed.
     

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