Your Boredoms
by Darryl Price
Your boredoms are not my fascinations. Your boredoms
Belong to the ice caves with the Mammoths,
Although haven't they been tortured enough by the
Changing winds? Your boredoms are far from twinkling
Objects in the beaks of ancient crows, prophesying
A new age of heartbreak and misunderstanding. Your
Boredoms, I'll do my best to escape them,
But that means you, too. Your boredoms need
To disappear permanently. Your boredoms send a frightened
Animal into the thorns of no contest, I
Wonder if you could be more gentle? Your
Boredoms have never sung into the wind, have
Always bent themselves towards the death of innocents.
Your boredoms don't love babies. Your boredoms are
Sharing a joint in a back alleyway at
Almost dawn. Your boredoms are like my head
Hurts. Take it or leave it. Your boredoms
Having already used the key, have left the
Door unlocked. Your boredoms like the flu are
Taking a long nap. Your boredoms have set
The wordless table. Your boredoms are upturning the
Waiting guitars with miserable glee. Only the shadows
Agree. Your boredom's pockets are full of damaged
Money. Your boredoms are missing a foot, maybe
A few fingers, certainly a heartbeat. Your boredoms
Are moving noiselessly towards cynicism. Your boredoms, like
The rest of the sheep, are floating with
Nothing to guide them but their stomachs. Your
Boredoms are making me feel sunk, falsely accuse
Every star of failing to shine. Your boredoms
Have thrown my poetry into the bushes. Your
Boredoms have come home minus that impossible kiss.
Bonus:
a friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous sent this remix. I love it!
Your boredoms are not
my fascinations Your boredoms
belong to the ice caves,
with the Mammoths,
although haven't they
been tortured enough by the
changing winds? Your boredoms
are far from twinkling
objects in the beaks
of ancient crows, prophesying
a new age of heartbreak
and misunderstanding. Your
boredoms, I'll do my best to escape them,
but that means you, too.
Your boredoms need
to disappear permanently. Your boredoms send a frightened animal
into the thorns of no contest, I
wonder if you could be more gentle? Your
boredoms have never sung into the wind,
have always bent
themselves towards
the death of innocents.
Your boredoms don't love babies
Your boredoms are
sharing a joint in a back alleyway,
at almost dawn. Your boredoms are like
my head hurts. Take it or leave it. Your boredoms
having already used the key
have left the door unlocked. Your boredoms
like the flu are taking a long nap
Your boredoms have set
the wordless table
Your boredoms are upturning
the waiting guitars
with miserable glee. Only the shadows
agree. Your boredom's pockets
are full of damaged
money. Your boredoms are missing
a foot, maybe
a few fingers, certainly a heartbeat.
Your boredoms
are moving noiselessly towards cynicism.
Your boredoms, like
the rest of the sheep, are floating
with nothing to guide them but their stomachs. Your
boredoms are making me feel sunk,
falsely accuse
every star of failing to shine. Your boredoms
have thrown my poetry
into the bushes. Your
boredoms have come home
minus that impossible kiss.
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Author's Note
People love to pretend to be bored with everything and maybe they are, but I think it's a shitty response to the universe around you, and an insulting one to your own power to change and grow. There are a million fish, a billion stars, an amazing array of trees and flowers, insects of every size and shape, even sunsets, moons, not to mention people's faces. There are new stories everywhere, as Morrissey put it, can't you read? If you are so bored perhaps you're not trying hard enough to explore the possibilities of your existence. I mean come on, are you a cliche or a thinker? I thought you wanted to find out things. What have you learned lately? Eat this poem and tell me how you feel.
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It's hard to pick a favorite, this resonates with each line. Maybe this part? "Your boredoms
Are moving noiselessly towards cynicism. Your boredoms, like
The rest of the sheep, are floating with
Nothing to guide them but their stomachs. Your
Boredoms are making me feel sunk, falsely accuse
Every star of failing to shine." But it all hurts of truth.
Kierkegaard's spirit applauds this with joyous vigor (as do I). *
Your boredoms have set
The wordless table. Your boredoms are upturning the
Waiting guitars with miserable glee. Only the shadows
Agree
"Your boredoms are upturning the / Waiting guitars with miserable glee."
One great line after another forming an ineffably praiseworthy whole.
*
As Bill said, one great line after another!
" Your boredoms are missing a foot, maybe
A few fingers, certainly a heartbeat. Your boredoms
Are moving noiselessly towards cynicism."
*
"Your boredoms / Have thrown my poetry into the bushes."
*
I think this deserves another fav.
The repetion is very effective.
* This is a Holy Cow kind of poem. As in I love it, especially this:
"Your boredoms are far from twinkling
Objects in the beaks of ancient crows, prophesying
A new age of heartbreak and misunderstanding."
No boredoms here.*
I've tried and failed to find a favourite line here - every time I think I've caught one I see another.
You've really captured that feeling too.