I have not been thinking of certain things. Like not watching the news because dead babies and brutalized animals make me suicidal or murderous – really. Like poems I can’t write because the genius is not there. About the sacrilegious wish to write like someone else. …or homeless people who scare me back to the day I became one of them, to days of butts from the street, money from strangers more frightened than me. …and then there is suicide – that most personal of murders; about being saved because some women, children and a dog made room in a lifeboat… well, that last part – I think of them everyday, and always remember to put flowers on the dog’s grave. http://youtu.be/G_3jG5VrHDI
02 Saturday Feb 2013
Liberty of Thinking said:
You’ve got me on this one…
I just committed the sacrilegious, even more, trying to remember my other life where The other I, may have written this.
This is like a whole life’s memoirs in a few extraordinary suggestive verses.
Hat off and down, my friend. Thank you!
I think prayers would help me when I’m in the same situation as this one…
you wrote a good poem.. 🙂