These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
Showing posts with label poetry Stanley Pacion love addiction prophecy rapture moment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry Stanley Pacion love addiction prophecy rapture moment. Show all posts
Petal, now that is a great name for a woman. It is not yours, but it is great nonetheless.
Should you really believe you might leave, Allow me to be home alone for months on end, And expect me to await your every return, Happy to collect you at the airport, Joyous when you walk through the door, You very well might be sorely mistaken. It appears you have love you cannot keep.
You have been so selfish in your pursuits. "How long, pray, Will you take advantage of my patience?"
You hardly wrote to me at all, and I gather Some of my letters to you have not been read And many of the topics I raised not addressed.
You have been warned, time and again. Our life together has been too tightly wound. Your busy schedule precludes common wisdom.
You have forgotten that in this world, In this world of ours life soon passes. We walk these streets a few times, Before too long we disappear and are gone. No second chance, we do not return again.
The fact remains I can not take your absence. I miss the warmth of your flesh next to mine. My heart breaks when I turn my head in bed, And see the pillow empty, without your face.
And now it is very early morning And, you know me, that I speak truth When I say, 'I have not slept for days.’
Later today I go to meet Pastor Borner. Then I have an appointment with my Doctor, And although my face might not show How tired I actually am I really have no way to disguise my sadness.
I always smile but in my eyes my sorrow shows.
Maybe you will get one more chance, But, then again, you may not. The love affair seems over, Where once happiness had reigned, Woe takes place.
This thing of ours is unlikely, Not much chance it will, Ever again, be the same.
You could not tell your mother You were living with me, home with me and in my bed, That I had touched you in so many intimate ways, That you had professed your love for me, And solemnly promised to cherish, honor and behave.
You told me you would make me proud, That you were woman of parts, You claimed piety and beauty, and extraordinary soul.
You misrepresented your every intention! I mean, it hurts me more, more every day, I simply can not believe, Believe how often you misspoke to me.
I understand that I must, But I have this difficulty getting over it
I shake my head in disbelief, your cold, cold heart No exaggeration, here, my spirit crestfallen, You trampled my soul, Aborted any hope, and deprived me Even to semblance of, a hint of dignity.
You continually lied to your mother, Chasing back and forth, duplicity, When the telephone rang you lived at the hostel, Not with me at this address, this was your home, You lived here with me, What nicety allowed you excuse, How dare you adopt and practice such perfidy Whose scope took me more than a year to realize?
But the biggest lie, the lie you tell yourself, And here, I guess, lies the real evil, About the past being the past, About your ability to forget it, That there exists no such thing as trauma! Why call it domestic abuse, Just sweep it under the rug.
That’s your claim, in spite your readily apparent pain. Good Lord, take a moment, Review everything that had happened, It is as if you were saying, I need no help, My involvement with that man, the horror, Has no impact, it neither affects me nor my character.
When I hear your words, When they run through my mind, I accept how you have hurt me, My soul cleaves, a man cleaves unto a woman, My soul’s always a part of you.
You want to be my friend, You say it over and again, You say it’s what you always wanted, But you show no effort to prove it, No recovery or willingness to accept The central fact you must face the sickness, It rules you and your biggest lie, your failure, Your wrong, how you hurt most yourself, Your living a lie, a symptom of the thing, The monster within who plots your death, Here is the real truth, your disease it kills you.
You saw my conduct, how I lead with my heart, Suspended disbelief, dropped all critical acumen To woo you, to be a proper man, so much love, You commented praiseworthily About the propriety of my ways, And you saw how I raised my child.
Princess, and that’s a title your heart fancies!
Princess, the world bellows, Whole world does see, my marvelous girl, It’s the price paid, it frequently happens to nobility, It happens to many, those who are born to privilege.
Your life now public and up for rebuke, Your lousy demeanor and ultimate want,
The lowness of your family life soon immortal, Your treachery to live forever in published verse.
You say you want to be my friend, Yet do not acknowledge bosom requires Both honesty and accommodation, and you, My love, have not inclination, You seem to have no talent for either.
I hardly have anything left to say, I’ll eat some candy, open a can, I’ll have some pork and beans.
I curse the day, The day my dream of love’s uplift turned to descent.
Some one once wrote, I believe it reads, In noble minds some dregs remain, Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain.
Ha! Aren’t you something! You’re asking me to be your friend. Forgive my lapse into the colloquial, I lack another, another way to put it.
Where? Oh! Where do you get the nerve? What unmitigated gall propels you, When you have fallen far from the mark, Lack common decency to comport yourself Within any norm of self respect, or Concern for the well being of any other, Wanting impulse, regard for truth?
What are you, how nasty, how you have hurt me!
I curse the day, The day my dream of love’s uplift turned to descent.
Have you no shame, Pitiless you are! You know how much I love you, I felt our souls were as one.
But your cruelty surfaced at the start. Remember that May Day, Our first real Holiday together, Remember, our first full day together, After your return from the homeland, After we had not seen each other for seven months, Not having seen each other for seven months. I wish I could sincerely say That I am fine and dandy with the me inside.
I wrote you all those letters, I waited for you and worked hard to make Your homecoming right, worked my ass off, I found an apartment, moved furniture and belongings Ran the business, wrote poetry….
You treated me like…, well I must, Here I must resort to vulgarity, the vulgar,
You treated me like shit, Were I simply able to look straight into the mirror, Claim I am tickled pink. Excuse me, if my manners make a scene.
You were skilled in your ways, You started on the offensive. Picky, picky, picky, It must be a symptom, for it certainly Points to the way you eat your meals, Good God! At the end there were two, We were reduced to two restaurants, By the end of it we had two places where, We might have something to eat.
And you played your hand skillfully, Practiced as you were in the art, prevarication, Playing me on for months on end, Lie after lie and I never caught on, then. You were shameless, hustled me for vittles.
The happy days, where are they?
Those days were few and seem so hard to find, Whatever happened to our love, You did tell me you loved me, or am I dreaming, Were you playing me, was I the fool? You did ask I await your return? I thought it might be real nice, I wish I understood, Wasn’t it once so good?
Please, darling, please, might you notice How much our affair revolved around food, The eating of it and the gaining of weight, I am still not over it, everything, Your collecting recipes and filing them, Assiduously clipped from cooking magazines, To how you loved TV’s “The Biggest Loser”, You once said pointing to some porky contestant, “If I ever get like that, just shoot me.” I believe I said I would happily comply.
And the drama was strange, strange indeed, Once you went through the garbage, -- By habit I always double bagged it. – Then after your inspection, you complained, You complained when you met me at work, I had not cut the watermelon to the quick, Too much fruit remained upon the rind.
Oh, my darling girl, sorry I displeased you, Perhaps some day I’ll mend my profligate ways.
Junkie, tramp, liar, what a creep!
Plain, old, common, everyday nutriment, Feed’s always an issue. I figure the reason you can not behave proper, You can not swallow your pride, You can not finish your dinner.
Some one once wrote – perhaps John Dryden? It was an historical figure nonetheless, In noble minds some dregs remain, Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain.
And when I objected, understand, Had no desire to pick up every tab, The extra super-market purchases You were buying for your own room, Nourishments you had no intention to share with me, You pulled a fast one, tried a rationalization, You bullshitted me about How your father treats women, Oh my God! Did I really need a lecture About his generosity and free spending, His financial chivalry when it came to the opposite sex?
(Reader, had you only been there for that recital, She had full-of-herself smugness deep into her face.)
I had to stop you, and in a letter I reminded you -- You had told me already -- How a court order was necessary, Him to support his ex-wife, and kids, Strength of character, epitomized, a stand-up guy, No! It seems a lack of backbone.
Think, sweetie, you must have inherited it from Dad, The fear, the fear of your mother, Guess what? Fear is an enemy, Though with the sick it frequently masquerades As good counsel, pretends to be a friend.
Was our love a game and you set me up for loser?
Some situation, hey! The situation, fear engendered, One son and three daughters, And no mention of the grandchildren, Never mind possible grand daughters, All of them alienated, they have nothing to do with you, They never speak to him at all.
It is the kind of story that makes me happy, Glad that he is not my Daddy, Chivalrous indeed, what a crock of shit! You, you had me pay for food, food You ate alone in your hostel.
You cheat me, and yet you must know, Know how great my love for you!
You offered me nothing in return, Except the sad story, a sordid tale, And not yet the real truth, that you would drop Later, like the other, proverbial shoe, The evil of your partaking, of a long-time affair With a man who proved your alter ego, Who proved it over the years His love was equal to yours.
Both of you liars, what a lovely affair, Match made in heaven, I am surprised, Struck by the short duration, only five years, When you two lovers seemed so well suited, Sweetie, how do you do it? Remain absent From his arms! You, poor child, I know you Still love him, hanker for the mutual abuse, Listen, Misses, where talk exists there’s desire,
Oh when Stanley’s standing by, my o’ my, The dreadful things you must say about him, That awful old boy friend and all his lying, His constant running in debt to you, Promises, but repayment absent, And the way he with sex abused you, But who knows, who knows what happened, What’s really happening?
Wonder if you are in contact with him, again, I mean your old lover, Wouldn’t surprise me, when Dealing with you one never hears the truth.
The stories, oh the stories! Remember that date with Mora? Out of the clear blue, you had to spend the night, She was a long-time girlfriend, you said. But I had never heard of her before, I had to be reminded of the story of your meeting, I don’t believe I ever heard of her again.
Mora who? I questioned. Let me meet her Or tell me her last name. Ha! You, you would never deign to answer.
Your response was silence, you’re haughty that way.
Learned at home when native in your native land, The terror, the fundamental disquiet, I guess few may imagine, how desperate your life, How ill at ease, how you must bury it,
“Let’s spend the day shopping,” you say, “Go searching from store to store “There you see, you know me,” “It’s what I am like anyway.”
A running dialogue you pathetically repeat And convince no one, not even yourself.
Your home here in the states, your lessons, You studied hard, gained Advanced Placement, You told me you made "wait list" at Princeton, Here’s the humor, were you not inducted, A member, wasn’t it the National Honor Society?
But what you learned best was deception, The past arises each time the telephone announces Your mother, you lie to your mother.
And you, you’re a woman within the year, The age of Jesus, Crucified, Still you are unable to reveal truth to your mother!
It’s all laughable, were it not awful, terribly sad.
Is it my lot? Shall I continue to live in torment?
It won’t be long now, Our love, how it plays its final story, Like all else in world’s glory, Soon end and be no more.
Perhaps we never meet again. We learn the awful ache, What separation means, When time runs out and we see It’s too late to mend a heart That has been rendered, torn apart.
Right now I feel it’s true, We will never meet again, while Yet we remain this side of heaven, while Still we abide earth’s shore of the river.
Strange, yeah, our fragile hope That you stop it with your forked tongue, Abandon your bad habit, and proclaim,
Admit it; you broke the deal, And, as for me, you know the story, Surrender, otherwise, forget it,
Just say to all, to one and all, I am gone, you’ve done me wrong. I swear, I don’t care, I don’t care. I am gone. Gone, Gone, Gone,
I am through with you in my face.
The hurt is real bad. You hardly ever told the truth, Employed every kind of subterfuge, Remember the time when I implored you, Asked, time and time, again, A simple request, I wanted a few month’s itinerary.
You pretended not to know the meaning, You pretended not to know The meaning of the common English word, And when you finally succumbed, Sent me your plans, Not a word of it proved true.
Awful, actually very sad, After all the time we had spent together, Face it! Your miserable fate, lousy life, All of it predicated upon treachery. All of it amounts to a pack of lies.
I’ve had it! I’m really gone! Moved on, Because you done me wrong!
Do you trust me? Do you have a single doubt, I love you? Do I forsake you, Or fail to keep my word?
I feel within me, Light has dispelled darkness. My conscience’s clear.
For a thousand different reasons, And just one, I love you most of all, I love you, because you’re you.
I sing like Elvis, but I am here, God lets me live, I sing the song. I love you the way you are, dear. I have no rhyme or reason. No matter what they say about me, Most of all I love you, I love you, because you’re you.
But now what else am I to do? Will every other’s face Be now and forever but second best?
I fall before terrible truth, I am no good, no good to any one, I’m no good to anyone after loving you.
On our first date, It rained the entire day. We drove Jersey’s back roads and highways. We talked business. We praised the special light, And thanked God for blessing, For the Grace, that befell us.
Though we are separated now, You have my love. I adore you.
You might send a Private Eye To track my days and nights, You might send a troop, Special Forces to search and seek Any rugged terrain where I might hide, Give them night vision goggles So to visit every nook, Every recess of my soul, And all they will find, my love, They will find, only, my love for you.
Don't get me wrong. Should I appear distracted, Look knocked out by the light. You make a very strong performance, A singularity round whose axis my mind spins.
I remember once, years ago, When I landed in New York, After living a year and half in Europe, How the neon of America Seemed so awesomely garish, and bright. Yet, when I close my eyes and picture it, All seems pale before the radiance of your face.
Two people may meet for morning breakfast, Look out the café's window at the steady rain, Walk here and there along avenues of Inviting store fronts, and before the day is over Fall into hopeless passion one for the other, As though there be something in the air, Perhaps some electromagnetic charge. So the occasional electricity might overwhelm us.
Or cupid steals behind fixtures of thoroughfares. (That day I spied him crouched near a mailbox, When we began to walk main street in Point Pleasant!)
The winged child pulls from his quiver arrows. They drip wet with potion. Once he aims And shots them, grievously they tear mortal flesh Making for a ruckus extraordinaire And expectations suddenly become great.
This romance now so hard upon me, This love I must ardently profess is, if you please, Couched, subjunctive, a mood, A posture of grammar I assume so to temper My over-wrought affection and quiet The immodest verse and elevated parlance,
It provides relief for my assuming prophetic mantle, The all too far-out attitude, the conceit Whose command animates this verse, And were I not to employ this principle of language, One might believe that I be shameless.
Understand. I solely express my own wish and desire, All I say remains contingent, Of a mind still hypothetical and dependent.
I do not use the imperative, I make no demand. I have no special outcome in mind.
I live in the fortress called Zion, And come from it in the Pilgrims' coat and hat. I look in the mirror and see their collar and tie. And, like those passengers on board the Mayflower, I know the Lord to be my helper. I fear not.
Who among your former friends has ever said it better?
And were you to live long and hearty life, As all actuaries predict, What future friend might ever say it better?
And should you for a moment consider,
This lyric arrive, transcending everyday concerns, That it join, Sentiment Supreme, Him, the real pilot,
When we drove in the white, Ford van and crossed Jersey's North shore highways, while the brown,
Oh that magic, gentle, dream-like, living, pale, ethereal,
And somewhat golden light accented the downpours, Whose constant unleashed falling, seemed more Like the storm the Lord had promised Noah, Than any explicable, temporary weather.
Wie es eigentlich gewesen war. 'The carriage held but just us -- and immortality.'
And since we first drove around together, Though it is months ago, It feels shorter than the day, I first surmised the engine's mounts Were tied to point, and we, too, were belted, Hurled straight ahead in covenant with eternity.
Do you trust me? Do you have a single doubt, I love you? Do I forsake you, Or fail to keep my word?
I feel within me, Light has dispelled darkness. My conscience’s clear.
For a thousand different reasons, And just one, I love you most of all, I love you, because you’re you.
I sing like Elvis, but I am here, God lets me live, I sing the song. I love you the way you are, dear. I have no rhyme or reason. No matter what they say about me, Most of all I love you, I love you, because you’re you.
But now what else am I to do? Will every other’s face Be now and forever but second best?
I fall to terrible truth, I am no good, no good to any one, I’m no good to anyone after loving you.
On our first date, It rained the entire day. We drove Jersey’s back roads and highways. We talked business. We praised the special light, And thanked God for blessing, For the Grace, that befell us.
Though we are separated now, You have my love. I adore you.
You might send a Private Eye To track my days and nights, You might send a troop, Special Forces to search and seek Any rugged terrain where I might hide, Give them night vision goggles So to visit every nook, Every recess of my soul, And all they will find, my love, They will only find, only, my love for you.
