Home
NEW TODAY
SCRIPT CONTESTS
FREE EVENTS
WATCH MOVIES
NEW MOVIES
FESTIVAL VIDEOS
PICTURES
READ POETRY
MOVIE SCENES
SUBMIT your FILM
POETRY CONTEST
DAILY PODCASTS
WATCH FREE FILMS
THE LAST RITE
2010 MOVIES
ACTORS
ACTRESSES
DIRECTORS
MOVIES by YEAR
FILM FRANCHISES
MOVIE GENRES
NOTES and IDEAS
WATCH VIRAL
GET OUR E-ZINE!
CONTACT US
TOP 100 Sex
FAQ
2011 MOVIES

Subscribe To This Site
XML RSS
Add to Google
Add to My Yahoo!
Add to My MSN
Subscribe with Bloglines
 

Poem
The First Place I Feel It Is The Knees

This poem sits in an odd place for me, right between sense and sensibility, I suppose. Throughout my teen years, I was one of those unbearable people who was anti-drug, anti-booze, anti-sex... all for the sake, in truth, of being different and refusing to relax and have fun for a second. Any time I did indulge in some kind of mental alteration, I was more likely to be paranoid and upset with myself than to relax and enjoy the ride. Because I don't like to fail at much, even at having a good time, I decided to see instead just how far I could travel down a very strange path...




The first place I feel it is the knees
Then the back of my neck swells
until like a balloon it splatters
Earwax all over the inside of my brain
My jaw swells till I look like a
Chunky caveman
My body swells till I can no longer stand to be inside

We ran into the night
My wise pathfinder
and me, the timid elk
to whom the road had always seemed
just another road until the night
when the bright lights and
horribly squealy scream
bore down on it
and it learned
We ran into the night
My feet had wings
and the pavement jarred what was left
of my mundane form without
Ever
Touching me.
We sat on the banks of the Rhine, while soldiers marched
and the lights of the occupation blazed
And when we slipped back into the shadow
the haunted face of my guide
told a sad tale
of another flight
of another night spent in the dark
of the woods
We sat by the river
the occupying army a distant drum tap
the water rolled up a rapid
all the while remaining stagnant
and still
We climbed a giant of metal
erected by some careless long-ago
builder
and forgotten,
And hung in the air over the water
as the white manes of horses
tossed below our feet
Their proud heads invisible
but (I knew) still contorted in the
agony
of drowning

Then we paused unseen as
a young boy held a young girl
in the passion of a stolen moment
away from the concrete
and the street and the noise
And moved on as the cannons came closer
The sky flung webs spun by my
spider mother down on our heads
but as he held my hand I could see
Beyond
to the ship of the heavens
to the flashes of light and colour
And we fell together
in the mud
at the exact center of the field
where some ancient burning
had scorched circles of pain
into the very fibre of the
tough weeds
And I looked up until the webs
had covered my eyes
and I looked at him
and his face had changed
and he was gone - as I was gone
And the world spun until
I knew I was insane
The center of the field, the center of the path
the center of my mind
are my domain
Don't hold my hand don't touch me
If all goes well
and the soldiers don't find me
and he doesn't find me
and if I return to my own
center
I will survive till morning
I will survive to sleep again



back from poem - the first place i feel it is the knees to jenstuff


jenstuff comments
Re:
Name
Email
Comments
Google


footer for poem page