by Darryl Price
The entire room is waiting on me like an octopus.
The monk of the lamp knows he will get its
daily turn on. The favorite chair has my dent in
its punched around chest. A crushed red space I can
crawl into and disappear from any sense of gravity. Even
when I'm walking around I feel like I'm falling, falling
apart. I'm not even sure how to get this message
delivered to you. It's a pretty simple text I guess.
Pretty much nothing more than hello, help. I'm not holding
out for the answer. There's nobody looking for these mad
words from me. It's a good thing I have new
music to pump into my veins, otherwise I'd probably be
dead to the whole house. Any way I've noticed lately
that I'm the very same guy in my dreams as
in real life. I feel so numb like I can't
find my way outside. I don't really have the energy
to unwind that one. Just chalk it up to no
news is good news. Jesus, I hate these sayings that
make you feel more alone in the universe than ever. I
guess I don't want to be here either, broken forever,
like an obsolete machine, but I have no place else
to go right now that fits my feet thrown onto
the crumby floor like dirty tee shirts. I'm starting to
get used to being into a slower rhythm though. I
close my eyes. Float, float along. Don't want to see
you standing outside the watery feelings like a statue beaming
nothing but sunshine and shadow to the accompanying trees, hands
on your hips. Better to row out a little bit
deeper, let the coolness of the wind speak for us,
for everything. Eventually I'll make shore, if nothing unusual gets
me first. Might even hear your sneakers carrying you away
as you turn to go. I don't know. There are
a lot of squeaks to the soundtrack of the day.
Any one of them could mean something has changed into
something else. I was thinking of that David Bowie song,
Planet Earth is blue. Yeah. It is. From where I
sit it looks like it just needs a little hug,
but my arms just aren't big enough to do the
job. You made me think they were, once. That was
just waves. Now I'm dangling off another poem hoping for
an unexpected waterfall to knock some sense back into me.
Or at least start me coming home again. Go on.
This is the place where I get off, get lost
like a friend, a riff coming from an unseen window,
feel you vanish into a hole of senseless, draining stars.
by Darryl Price
by Darryl Price
You said, move me, I moved you, but, listen,
I don't want to be saved. You said, move
me, I moved you, but I'm still a boy
in so many ways. I don't want to break
your heart, again, those days are gone. You said,
move me, I moved you, but you could never
be my friend, not in that secret way. The
mystery of love pisses me off like nothing else.
You said, move me, I moved you like a
mountain, but you just weren't into holding on, arms
to arms. It makes me feel so lonely. You
said, move me, I moved you, you left me
there on my own. You said, move me, I
moved you and you made your excuses like a
drunk in the middle of a blackout. You said,
move me, I moved you in a purely beautiful,
brave and dazzling trick of the light and yet
you continue to haunt the darkness like a low
riding moon. You said, move me, I moved you,
but it was way too much to include me
in the joke I guess. You said, move me,
I moved you and I probably always will. You
said, move me, I moved you like your own
personal singer, there isn't anything to be concerned about.
You said, move me, I moved you and nobody
knows. Yet that's a long way to go.
All rights reserved.
This is a sad poem, but it's not a poem of despair.You don't have to go anywhere to see amazing beautiful things or meet new interesting people or have thoughts of your own. This poem is about unwinding the surroundings to look for meaning, even if that gets you into a lonely state, at least you are moving, and motion should start to bring you back to life. For poets it brings the creation of a poem, which is the job they do. My advice would be: never lie. Just observe and let the truth set you free. I know that's a hard thing to do, and can be scary. But not all of your works can be happy faces stuck on an old familiar soccer ball and they shouldn't be. Let yourself be surprised by the discovery of your own life and see what happens. You can always go get a beer and cheer yourself up.