"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."

Monday, June 06, 1994

Not This Time

Not this time!
I'll be damned
if I'll wait in line
for your time!

I put it all on the line for you.
I gave you my soul!
The hell I went through;
the benevolence you stole;

No, you don't have to be sure,
but then I might not try anymore.
Why bother?

You have it so good,
and you're so fucking blind.
You know I
kiss your ass every time.

Not this time!

I'm going to give my all
to someone who wants it.
I'll call the shots
and won't be taunted.

Maybe I'm settling,
but at least I'll have fun.
Remember?
That's how we'd begun,

but I started to care for you.
I started to share with you.
You kept your distance.
I failed resistance,

but now,
I quit.

June 6, 1994

posted by Lorraine Courigan at 11:30 AM

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