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joyce-garciaPoems
When, instead of cozying in bed I wander out there with Kerouac, Imagining that I am Kerouac Or some slave who walks upright; Or a priest without a crowd With hands and feet tied. When, instead of snoring like hell, I am left unimaginative by some; I am making disgusting Love with shadows unknown And remain pinned against the wall. I am some nine year old senile who wets her bed in fear and disbelief. Lights flicker and then fade And the switch becomes a button pressed to send Someone in raving comfort. I am not a stranger to sleepless nights Even when night becomes noon. Nightmares haunt me no more but I Am left haunted by my bed. Sheets crumpled by tossing and turning. My bed does not recognize my warmth. Voice recordings and constant tweetings Pump blood to my Über active head. Sleepless nights are well received as my body Succumbs to sleep. I live in a different world with five hundred other names And the ten thousand other Me’s are all in disarray. (And when the clock chimes at one, two, three ‘til way down six, There’s a carnival of sorts with hair strands flailing like Seven sets of arms.) I am not a stranger to sleepless nights And wetting my bed is not a Sin. I am sinful beyond recognition, as my bed is my witness. I have had different beds But to me, they’re all the same. Some, soft; others, too hard Or covered in satin, exaggerated by the moonlight. Some, made of wood While others, with tight springs. Water’s absurd but so is steel. Double padding, triple linings, four feet, at times, none; There’s the car, the guest room, the floor, hospital bed, A seat next to a complete stranger --- I make my bed before sleeping And leave it when I’m done. I am not a stranger to sleepless nights And I jump on the bed at midnight. I am not a stranger to morning tides and the morning shows on TV. I’m not a stranger at all, no, And when I sleep, I sleep in peace. Stranger things have happened Noons and sudden weekends are no way sleep - inducing; I am left believing That nights and days dance in my Sleeplessness.
0
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
I Am Not A Stranger To Sleepless Nights
When, instead of cozying in bed I wander out there with Kerouac, Imagining that I am Kerouac Or some slave who walks upright; Or a priest without a crowd With hands and feet tied. When, instead of snoring like hell, I am left unimaginative by some; I am making disgusting Love with shadows unknown And remain pinned against the wall. I am some nine year old senile who wets her bed in fear and disbelief. Lights flicker and then fade And the switch becomes a button pressed to send Someone in raving comfort. I am not a stranger to sleepless nights Even when night becomes noon. Nightmares haunt me no more but I Am left haunted by my bed. Sheets crumpled by tossing and turning. My bed does not recognize my warmth. Voice recordings and constant tweetings Pump blood to my Über active head. Sleepless nights are well received as my body Succumbs to sleep. I live in a different world with five hundred other names And the ten thousand other Me’s are all in disarray. (And when the clock chimes at one, two, three ‘til way down six, There’s a carnival of sorts with hair strands flailing like Seven sets of arms.) I am not a stranger to sleepless nights And wetting my bed is not a Sin. I am sinful beyond recognition, as my bed is my witness. I have had different beds But to me, they’re all the same. Some, soft; others, too hard Or covered in satin, exaggerated by the moonlight. Some, made of wood While others, with tight springs. Water’s absurd but so is steel. Double padding, triple linings, four feet, at times, none; There’s the car, the guest room, the floor, hospital bed, A seat next to a complete stranger --- I make my bed before sleeping And leave it when I’m done. I am not a stranger to sleepless nights And I jump on the bed at midnight. I am not a stranger to morning tides and the morning shows on TV. I’m not a stranger at all, no, And when I sleep, I sleep in peace. Stranger things have happened Noons and sudden weekends are no way sleep - inducing; I am left believing That nights and days dance in my Sleeplessness.
joyce-garcia
Written by
joyce-garcia
Filipino
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
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