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JUST BEFORE SLEEP



I went to turn off
the kitchen light
& saw a strange bug
scurry across the counter
& hide behind the cannisters.

I found the bug
& just before I crushed it
I said, "The end is near. Repent!"

Then I rinsed it down
the kitchen sink
& went to bed.

Had it not been raining,
the night would have been filled
with emptiness.


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Comments

The following comments are for "JUST BEFORE SLEEP"
by gomarsoap

"Bugged"
Bob- Having lived in FLA many years, I easily pictured scene. Only thing I "read" differently, was replacing "said" with "thought."

Good read.
Robert William

P.S. Yesterday I penned a satirical piece, presented as a prayer, in poem form. Haven't decided as yet, if I'll post.

( Posted by: Bobby7L [Member] On: June 12, 2005 )

Gomar And his God Complex
This little poem is chock full of metaphor. I may have imagined some, but it appears to be well thought out. I'll come back later with long comment, have to go in a minute.

What does dating sexy black singles have to do with your poem? (The little caption ad. under it)

It's just plain weird.

williamhill

( Posted by: williamhill [Member] On: June 12, 2005 )

Strange Bug
I thought it was interesting that the but was a 'strange' one. Strange 'odd' or strange 'not allowed'? Either way, I'd be focused on getting it the Hell out of there, too. I like that you said it out loud. For if it had not been raining, you'd have had to live with the echo.

Lans

( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: June 12, 2005 )

Oh yeah,
and canister/cannister.

Would be bad of me not to say that!

Lans

( Posted by: GibsonGirl [Member] On: June 12, 2005 )

Gomar...before I sleep
Gomar,

I hope after you crushed the bug, you lit it on fire with a match (lol). My favorite lines were the last three:

"Had it not been raining,
the night would have been filled
with emptiness."

I like your metaphors and your choice of words "the end is near", "repent".

Nice read,

macbeth

( Posted by: macbeth [Member] On: June 12, 2005 )

I hear ya, man.
Loneliness is a much bigger pest than the bug, but it's not as easy to squash. I feel those nights. This poem echoed a bit of Charles Bukowski; which I like very much.

( Posted by: BAAL [Member] On: June 23, 2005 )

Gomar's gone buggy!
Gomar...I think this is the most poignant work of yours that I have ever read. (Would have put an exclamation mark there but your earlier crit to my vignettes is indelibly carved in my brain.)

Reams have been written on loneliness that go on and on...yours was so succinct that it was almost chilling! (sorry...(!)

Great work.

Bea

( Posted by: Beatrice Boyle [Member] On: June 25, 2005 )

Bobby/wmhill/gg/et al
Thank you for the comments.

Bobby, I've seen some la cucharachas while walking guard duty on a pier in Miami, Fla., late at night, near a dumpster. Even though they were large as hamsters, sometimes you couldn't see them and there would be this loud crunch under your foot. Holy shit! Them's some big ass bugs.

wmhill: Sexy black singles? No idea. Maybe the word "repent?" If so, pretty disturbing. It's as if we're all becoming "key words."

GG: The bug was strange, period. Never saw one quite like it before. Looked like a long ant with wings & it could scurry quick, like a cockroach. After I crushed it I took a long look at it because I don't like to kill anything. I'd never seen anything quite like it. It was like: "this one has to die, even if I regret it." Then all of a sudden, I was alone in the kitchen, 3:30 a.m., and it began to rain.

I scribbled this poem down, like a rat running across a piece of paper, and instead of going to sleep, I turned my computer back on and posted it here.

Macbeth: Nah. The bug died from a section of newspaper, compressed against the kitchen counter, the heal of my hands pressing down hard. Like being in a small room & the walls closing in. Then I decided to give it a burial at sea and gave it a swirly.

Pen: Definitely a bug. Apparently the rain cares as much for strange bugs as it does spiders. Us, too.

BAAL: Thanks. You really understood what I hoped to express.

Re: Bukowski. I think he's one of the great poets of the 20th century. Much maligned by the establishment. A person who wrote about the terribleness and beauty of life. But you have to be careful - his writing will warp your brain into being something other than yourself.

Bea: 1. You're too funny. 2. You're too kind.
3. Thank you for understanding this poem.

Windchime: Your analysis is chillingly correct. The last stanza was almost an afterthought. Good thing it came along, or else this poem would have really sucked.

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: June 26, 2005 )

restless undercurrants

(Jesus, I just realized someone might take that for a misspelling of 'currents', when I built it for a pun - oh, well)

Being a Buddhist, as you are, I can see why you suddenly felt alone, and it began to rain. The bug was obviously sent to you for company.

Very moody poem, helped considerably by your sparse style. I think everybody here would agree with me in wanting to see a great deal more of your stuff. You've spoken of a collection that's currently out of print - do you have it all on computer? If you could zip a collection of your stuff, and shoot it to me, I'd shoot you a collection of all my own.

Love your work, man.


john

( Posted by: johnlibertus [Member] On: August 10, 2005 )

John L.
I'm not really a Buddist - maybe the bug is & I learned something from it. Or maybe it was the rain who was the teacher?

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: August 12, 2005 )





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