"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."

Wednesday, January 30, 1991

Sempiternous Grovel

Her eyelids met, as a tear trickled down.
She released the receiver. It fell to the ground.
Holding her breath, she pulled her knees to her chest,
trembling, crying, "It's all for the best."

At first, they were perfect. There wasn't a flaw,
but then nothing seemed right at all.
He didn't sound happy. He had to want out.
That's what the phone call was all about.

She did it for him. She loved him so.
She knew she had to let him go.
If he'd come back, it would all be right,
but that seemed to be the unreachable light.

Half a year has since come and went;
the loneliest months she has ever spent.
There's others there, but it's just not the same.
It's not that easy to replay the game.

She knew she was crazy. She knew this was dumb.
She felt like an infant clinging to its thumb.
He's not a Prince Charming. He's not her dream guy,
but he seems the one and she can't question why.

When she sees him, she twinges with a chill,
and her stomach churns 'til she feels ill,
but when he sees her, he sees a face in the crowd.
His head is now big, while she's filled with doubt.

She opened herself up to a locked away world,
and for a while, she danced and she twirled.
Now, under shattered glass and crumbled walls,
to the end of a dark tunnel she eternally crawls.

January 30, 1991

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home