"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."

Sunday, November 30, 1997

New Life

I guess I'm doing pretty well.
I don't know for sure. It's so hard to tell.
I get by each day, although it's tough and tight.
I work at everything with all my might.

I started to do things on my own;
by myself; completely alone,
and each and every breath I take
fills my heart and lungs with ache,

and I yearn to be held and kissed,
and I wonder if I'm even missed,
but I don't want to need someone;
be emotionally tied to anyone.

My life, as me, has just begun.
I hope that means the worst has come.

November 30, 1997

posted by Lorraine Courigan at 5:07 PM 0 comments

Saturday, November 08, 1997

Give And Get Shit












I knew it would happen.
I just didn't know when.
I knew my heart
would get stomped on again.

I offered her a new world;
shared all I had;
might not have been much;
but all I had.

I warned others of what would come.
I asked them not to take part.
Unless, of course, they wanted some
more of my broken heart.

I actually don't mind
this time,
but let her do the work!
Why should I be the one
to offer my shirt?

Was it she who corresponded
and arranged; made plans?
Offered a ride home
and a place to crash?

No, of course, I'll just do it for you!!

You choose to spend time with her.
Let her take you home.
Let her be the one to call!

Again, I sit alone.
I already gave my all.
...nothing left...

November 8, 1997

posted by Lorraine Courigan at 5:05 PM 0 comments