The Exhibitionists
by AuldMiseryGuts (Member) - published: March 20, 2008
Word Count: 363 Word Bytes: 2960 Viewed: 297 times
Category - Blogs
© Copyright by AuldMiseryGuts

0.00

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

In the softened study of
Rooms, we sinned
Absorbing light in earnest

Penance the creed of
Our contemplations

Astutely we farcified
The near-
sighted sentiment:

We are only here for
The exhibition
We are doing nothing
Wrong.

Rrose Sélavy
Our chaperone
In mink and
Her winter scruples

We did our best to
Marshal facts
And not to establish truths,

because/ in case

Art is a bride-bare dowry
For a marriage that won’t
Be forth coming-

And who are we to argue
With a brush-stroked non-
happening
When no women are equated?

The backs of our hands touched once
Just scraped by one
Another
Seeking other exits-

Your poised knuckles
By affectionate objects
The prosaic curve of the
Scaphoid bone
Had navicular endearments

But that was as far as it went.

There was intermissing, afterwards and
Intermeshing in
The café-bar overlooking
The Thames

You were too polite
To kiss me then
You and your secular
Manoeuvres

I sighed to you how all paint
Is mistaken
Presupposes
Coincidence and finitude

But a poem
Prefers itself

Has occupants rather than
Subjects

Portrays as
Rather than in
Motion-

But that doesn’t mean
I don’t believe
Poems don’t occur on
Canvas too.

You were not listening
And in any case know
It is more clever to tell
The truth

A single paining sincerity
Would have impressed you more

But I had none of those
Sad wings with me today

Looking to the covered boat
Bob on the grey-brewed slurrying said:

He would kill me if he caught us here

And you
Possibly emboldened by
The open window said:

Yeah, and what’s more you’d let him.

*

There is unhappy and nonhappy
One another, one aneither

There is metered and perimetered
Heartbeat and heartbeaten and just
Beaten

If anybody asks
There never was this

I am not who I am and
There never was this

We did not see the runners
There were no ravens
Your umbrella did not turn inside-
out

There never was this
Not a lie so much,
As a precognition
To a time when I will not
Remember

And I don’t know what is
The matter with me
I used to fight anybody.

------
The human race, the only race I know where everybody loses.

Related Items

Ryan’s knot

14 more things I omitted to mention

it will be okay

Sunday

Tadhg

“Dig up, stupid”/ Cambridge Suite

an unsuccessful suicide poem

One too many

a bad idea

so I told you about my f-ing dreams. happy now.

More by AuldMiseryGuts »

Comments

The following comments are for "The Exhibitionists"
by AuldMiseryGuts

one aneither
What a snapshot of a perfectly miserable day. Or not...

Whenever I visit museums, I walk alone. Doesn't matter how many are in my party, I prefer my own company. Everyone knows this and figures me eccentric. It's not that at all; it's just I don't have the patience to be rushed or slowed down by someone else.

I sense you weren't very happy on this particular visit and I don't understand why. You can still fight everyone - it just doesn't have to be with fists.

OH, by the way, I don't make a habit of watching soaps. Used to catch the occasional Melrose Place but it was more for Laura Leighton than anything else. And Grant Show from time to time...

But the writing sucked balls!!!

( Posted by: desvelado [Member] On: March 21, 2008 )

exhibition/ inhibition
okay Francisco, I apologise unreservedly for the encounter group dribble that is about to spill out of me, but:

unhappy because misery always follows when desire is suppressed by “should” and oppressed by “shouldn’t”… especially when you know deep down that should and shouldn’t are just code for can’t and won’t, and that your so called reasons are just pathetic excuses for not growing a pair [wings or balls, whichever] and taking a chance on happiness…

misery too when you know the only person you should be fighting is yourself, not some external abuser or other people’s morally outraged collective conscience…

misery because at the end of the day you realise you don’t believe enough in or care enough about your right to happiness. you realise you’re used to being a prisoner/victim and it’s all you deserve and all you remember how to want…

misery because you understand that this could very possibly be your last chance to find… something, anything, a connection with another person, and even as you’re pushing them away you know that when- not if- you let them go, something inside of you will die forever and that will be the end of you as an emotionally higher-functioning being…

misery because, you pretend to yourself that it didn’t happen, and that’s easier than admitting you could’ve had something and you fucked it up, as fucking usual…

misery because you’re a coward, who has given up on living and dying both so doesn’t have hope and doesn’t have solace, who is sick of being scared all the time, tired all the time, full of hate all the time but has literally no idea how to stop being scared all the time, tired all the time, full of hate all the time…

in short this a whiny, neurotic, badly-written self pity poem and that’s why it’s here instead of up front. I shouldn’t have posted it at all but I thought sharing would be cathartic… it wasn’t. you’d think I’d reach the point where I got tired of embarrassing myself, did us all a favour and just stopped writing, wouldn’t you? … yeah, you’d think…

sorry, that all sounded far more angry/ combative than I meant, and actually I’m fine now, there are just days when it all goes to shit, and I guess this was one of them. eventually I will learn to keep such stuff to myself, in the meantime, thank you for wading in and for at least trying to find merit and meaning here. sorry to have inflicted it upon you. will try harder next time ;)

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: March 21, 2008 )

here and now
I usually write comments before heading off to bed at night and read others' comments in the morning. Read this and realized the last line I wrote could be taken as a shot at your poem. Not the case. I was referring to soap opera writing. Melrose Place was a doozy but Laura Leighton was still hot.

Visited the set once. No hot people to be found.

Regarding your comment, I have those days too but they're usually balanced out by days when I am glad I am still here. Last year was not a good year for me. My head was on wrong.

This year is shaping up as the year of illnesses. If it's not heart problems, it's diabetes. If it's not suspicious moles, it's migraines. There are other issues but I'll stop now.

But I still get up every morning and look forward to reading my books, watching my fave movies and reading your work.

You're needed in the hear and now. The past is the past. It's only good for writing about - not living in it.

( Posted by: desvelado [Member] On: March 21, 2008 )

Francisco

nah, no offence taken… I’m not that hyper-sensitively highly strung… yet… ;)

seems I’m always either apologising or thanking people for something these days, and here I am again: sorry for being a whiny bitch. I know there are countless folks worse off than me, going through shit of their own with decidedly more stoicism, and that morbid self-indulgence is not an attractive quality. sometimes I just want a swift kick up the arse… and thanks for caring, and for taking the time, not everybody would and it is much more than I deserve…

enough of this sentimental toss, I’m going to get some much-needed sleep. best to ye, and, as babby brother would say: Happy Zombie Jesus Day! ;)

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: March 22, 2008 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Login:
Password:

Related Sites:

Libros recomendados
*Compare
*Agencia de turismo
*Savings
*Powerboating