Why I Mock -- Poetry Grace and Insanity

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Date Posted: 11/11/04 2:13:20am
Author: Brad
Subject: Why I Mock

I always wanted to be
"original and not conventional"
I wanted to be the wooden porch support
Waldo fell into
helpless
a victim of his own intellectual gravity,
while stamping, self-reliant, a coal song
of his paddy's on the boards.
I always wanted to be the vibrations
that made him sing.
Strange how boyhood goes,
replaced by lust and creamy desire.
Another's words placate me these days,
sullen in my age and strange from the porch,
it's a bed spring
and spinal twinge I look forward to, now.
Though I still cry out
time and again
I am at ease with my erasure
my discomposure,
my fantasies,
my pretend land of ghosts.
Back bent, I give it up to Waldo,
well whomever,
my whomever
and worship
his every vibration.

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Replies:

Re: Why I Mock -- Leisa*), 11/15/04 9:30:40pm
Re: Why I Mock -- the real Brad, 11/18/04 1:23:33pm
- Re: Why I Mock -- Gray Squirrel, 12/ 6/04 7:20:30pm
  - Re: Why I Mock -- the real Brad, 12/ 8/04 6:39:17pm
    - Re: Why I Mock -- Gray, 12/ 9/04 9:46:44pm
      - Re: Why I Mock -- B, 12/10/04 11:26:55pm
        Re: Why I Mock -- Dimon, 12/12/04 2:28:15am
        Re: Why I Mock -- B, 12/12/04 7:46:59pm
        P.S. -- B, 12/12/04 8:22:43pm
        Re: P.S. -- Dimon, 12/15/04 10:48:09pm
        Re: P.S. -- B, 12/17/04 12:11:21am
        Re: P.S. -- Dimon, 12/17/04 12:57:59am
        Re: P.S. -- B, 12/19/04 6:15:36pm
        Re: P.S. -- B, 12/19/04 6:17:54pm
        Re: P.S. -- Leisa*), 12/19/04 7:03:31pm
        Re: P.S. -- B, 12/19/04 9:54:26pm
        Re: P.S. -- Dimon, 12/22/04 11:41:09pm
        Re: P.S. -- B, 12/23/04 2:38:05pm
Re: Why I Mock -- B, 12/19/04 6:33:28pm

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>I always wanted to be >"original and not conventional" >I wanted to be the wooden porch support >Waldo fell into >helpless >a victim of his own intellectual gravity, >while stamping, self-reliant, a coal song >of his paddy's on the boards. >I always wanted to be the vibrations >that made him sing. >Strange how boyhood goes, >replaced by lust and creamy desire. >Another's words placate me these days, >sullen in my age and strange from the porch, >it's a bed spring >and spinal twinge I look forward to, now. >Though I still cry out >time and again >I am at ease with my erasure >my discomposure, >my fantasies, >my pretend land of ghosts. >Back bent, I give it up to Waldo, >well whomever, >my whomever >and worship >his every vibration.
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