"Accolades For Valor" by Matthew Johnson (1993): "She goes through life, gliding, a benevolent seer/ Stopping constantly to aid those in need, those not even dear/ I, an individual, swept up in the storm/ Of a woman, who, in search of herself, defies the norm/ As I, an outcast, fighting myself, yet daring to believe/ That if I ask her aid and succor (and possibly love) she won’t leave/ Giving her heart, mind and soul to every known cause/ Causing me to look about my selfish malestrom, and in introspection give pause/ For all her words, she won’t write about me, does she fail to perceive/ What the object knows to be true and what make believe—/ Words rarely present, presence much more of one/ Is to wish for more as good as wishing for the sun?/ Energy is precious, as I know well to be true/ And I am curious to know, Lorraine, what I can ask of you/ Names are important, they make us who we are/ Much more important than people give credit, by far/ The masses may cry “Lori!” and let them do so!/ For the numbers who call that cannot understand/ They will never know the Lorraine inside, the one crying to live/ Will be forever frustrated by those whose minds are like a sieve/ There may be those who rob her of her world, let them scratch the skin/ They are as pinpricks to the steel within/ These accolades are not exaggeration, not pretentious/ I Just want you to know that there is at least one who is conscious/ That the world is a better place for the life of a woman named Lorraine."

Tuesday, October 12, 1993

That's The Way










I hate you for doing this to me.
Why should I care?

Asshole!

You didn't have to say,
"I could be in your arms forever."
You didn't have to leave messages on my machine.

You're gonna go see her this weekend,
and I was used to that,
but first,
you have to play the avoidance game with me.

All I want is truth.
You don't want me.
Say so!

I'm waiting--
expecting it.

Mediocre sex.

They said after you got it, you'd back off.

I know--
I should've known.
I could've prevented pain.
I welcomed it
with open arms.
Stupid bitch!

Your fucking picture
stares at me.
Where's the darts?

I have your cd's.
Small sacrifice?
Ah, you can always get more.
Replacement is easy.

Too bad I'm not like that.
Too bad I'm thinking about you.

What will tomorrow bring?
Probably end;
My eyes have bled before.

Just think
what someday could've been.

October 1993

posted by Lorraine Courigan at 11:44 AM 1 comments