I’m turning from Blanche DuBois into Chris Benoit
taking a streetcar named Desire to Monday Night Raw
after the oppression of the law got stuck in my craw
because the discretion of the flawed became the voice of God.
I’d always relied on the kindness of strangers
only to find the Million Dollar Man’s danger
directing the Army Rangers to Jesus’ manger
letting the Undertaker deal with the remainder.
I relinquished my rightful place
to the bank’s Crippler Crossface
taking everything until I lost grace
going into a holocaust craze.
I’m upset about the places I can’t go
because I’ll be ***** by Marlon Brando
when I ask the referee for a hand though
he just responds with a ****** no.
I have retired my display of Vivian Leigh
now Whatever by Our Lady Peace plays
as the Rabid Wolverine walks to the stage
to fight the Big Boss Man in a cage.
I gave up teaching class to my sister
to fight an *** who’s a mister
whose slaps can blister
so he blasts this spinster.
The law is a tougher opponent than Eddie Guerrero
so I apply my aptitude into becoming a pistolero
after getting jabbed by my French Quarter pharaohs
I can feel resistance down in my Marc Mero.
I start to take steroids
because there are boys
whose terror noise
impairs my poise.
I go all out performing flying headbutts
fighting until I see the dead’s guts
exterminating enemies like bed bugs
but then I start to dread hugs.
Now I assume a stranger’s spite
so I can immediately fight
I’m swallowed by night
wearing these tights.
In my rage I **** my wife and son
now my anger is no longer fun
even if it came from their gun
it’s me who’s the loneliest one.
I changed from a lady to a wrestler losing my ****** mind
fighting Mankind while stepping on landmines
until I can’t find any grand signs
and I’m anger defined.
We live in the unlighted state of America
Where what happens when we turn the lights off
Is dealt with darkness
And matters of delicate touch
Are treated with sharpness
When our only language
Is to inflict anguish
We cut connections in the bedroom
To clear our cynical head room
For contempt and judgement
People looking for a feeling to fall into
Or a reason to live
Must face frigid climates
When the public invades privacy
And ill fated ****** exploits
Pervade salacious tabloids
Our ****** regrets
Cut the deepest
Society reaps them
Sowing us together with resentment
We provide each other with relief
But not the relief we're looking for
We give each other hours of relief
Until those useless hours become days
And those fruitless days become years
That engender endless tears
As it remains warm in our car
But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane
And our air conditioning only helps so much
When the spinning wheels are in our faces
There is a national coverage in the media
That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America
I feel I sit somewhere in between
*** offenders and a disgusted public
When I observe the observers
Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions
Judge those for overindulging in their emotions
They lived their life in fear and safety
So they could be the righteous ones
To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers
Yet they are of the least value to humanity
They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect
Without providing their perfect alternatives
While trying to erase the context
Because of what the context has to say about society
People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable
Until they experience sheer desperation
And no dollar contract
Can replace human contact
Yet we give men so much money and power
And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower
Until we are soiled by their intention
A nation committed to selling Stella Artois
A nation full of Blanche DuBois
Humanity folds in on itself
When we attack with ***
Humanity does itself a disservice
By not trying to understand these attacks honestly
We forsake forgiveness
And embrace desperation
Until we become unbearably desperate
For ****** contact
And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled
I'd like to think of that as love
And not a meeting between two practical rapists
That conjoin in the middle
Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side
i was young...
well, younger than now----
it was when it first struck me
it struck me hard.
it struck me like reality...
but more like
reality when reality comes
in the face of your
all in chains...
then, reality looks like dreams altogether;
no not fantasy----
not exactly a nightmare either
"you are a special weapon"
"something of great potential"
"and massive power"
"but you only have one shot"
mom always used to say.
i even once thought
she stashed some kind of
deathray or sting ray or something
in my arm----
----it won't be the first thing
she stuffed in me anyway...
i was eight years old when she
finally continued the sentence.
before total silence.
"make it count."
"cause whether you hit"
"or even if you miss..."
"you would be broken"
"torn to pieces-----"
she never taught me
how to use
she just fragmented
in tears before splintering
tearing to shards herself
it took me til 15
that i was afraid
to yet touch
i never knew
what i was capable of
i never knew how
to even activate
all i knew was that
i was powerful
i don't know what of
but i have to save it
keep it live it nurture it
store it amass it seep it
savor it understand it
study it feel it
polish it train it
let it breathe
let it sing
i could hear it sing
i could feel it whisper-----
and i was so afraid...
all i saw of my mother was
that she was in pieces
long before i knew her.
and i don't want to be that when i fire----
it wasn't supposed to strike me
but it did, and it struck me hard
i was 16 when i
first made the discovery
all at once
and much, much too completely---- all off guard.
it was like
you suddenly turned
a blinding light
on something that had always been
half a shadow
that's how it struck me...
that's how it shattered me...
it's like a full flashback
of my mother saying
'i told you so'
except she never did.
and it struck me.
like i hit the right target at the wrong time
or the opposite of it
but truth is
i just hit
way too soon
and it wasn't like
it was the wind that was hit----
that's how it struck me,
and that's how it tore me apart.
and it did not take me long
to realise what glass cannons we were...
all my life
i never tried to
activate my strength
and when i did
it was a long time...
and i was blinded----
it wasn't the hit
nor was it the miss
that tore me apart
it was love that broke me
because shattered pieces
all that bad
one shot was all it took
to break my heart
and so suddenly...
every part of me...
was a weapon
everyone who held me
they turned to anger
then turned to hate
they turned to each other
pretty soon turning to waste
it was then that it struck me
what a glass cannon is----
and it was until now that i was eluded...
for that long a time
i thought shards were
all love could offer...
all romance could be
and your father
all through different shards
until i saw what i had
all in shambles
all in shackles
just like my mother
that's when it struck me
cause looking into your eyes
i love you
as a whole
not like with your fathers
or like with the guys before them
or like the guys before the other guys
i wanted more than ever
to love you
a few shards
or with anger
or with both----
that's when it hit me
and it hit me with so much pain...
what my mother really should have said.
being a glass cannon
doesn't mean being
a weapon to hurt others-----
it means one day,
no one knows when,
but it will surely come
like a thief in the night...
and you will give your all
even if it shatters you to pieces
and even if you are already in pieces
because you know love
can make you again whole.
Inspired by one of the most famous lines spoken by the protagonist Blanche in the play A Streetcar Named Desire---- the line shown in bold and italics----
Title by Marianne
I expected the spaces left to shrink
I thought my body'd forget your square shape
I hoped my holed heart wouldn't be left agape
Boldly naive, a baby dressed in pink
I hate you for leaving me stuck to think
You were the only one here not an ape
I don't want to patch my canyon with tape
But no choice I have, you left in a blink
Now, it's my duty to bat my lashes
First to mop the crystal geyser of tears
Secondly, coquettishly-over to him
Who he is matters not, only passion.
Hotel? Motel? I'm sick of these affairs.
Alone, I must remain-with him in Grimm.
written in the perspective of Blanche Dubois, "A Streetcar Named Desire"
Did you forget all of me was inside you?
I only used your holes for my spare parts
At first-until each ounce I extracted
Now, looking in the mirror asking-who?
I think I lost myself inside of you
I can't retrieve now that you've retracted
You've broken me with your breach of contract
I used to see color, now only blue.
Love or life, I wonder which is the greater loss?
Is ownership a prerequisite of grief?
If so, my pain I am not entitled.
Although relieved I am of albatross
I'm now racked with curs'd thoughts of that thief
Alone, sans my resource for survival.
written in the perspective of Blanche Dubois, "A Streetcar Named Desire"
You left me!
Invaluable was the darkness cherished
the beloved heart
and half of my age
all of it
devoted to your love only
You crowned me to your queen of darkness
I grew up slowly in our palace
I could hide
if I wanted to
always with you
the holy eidolon
but a shelter for me
as long as you were there
we honored shadows
by becoming shadows
The Black Mountain
of your teaching
was made of the absolute
Color of our eternal love
You forgot one thing
or didn't you know me well?
Dedicated by desire
I climbed that mountain
Kept my promise
To see the irrefutable
To be the unconditional
You weren't there
You haven't made it that far?
or was your share to have me ebb
There was Black
as absolute as you said
Stroke my face apart
and I fell
at once for another
at an opposite end
One I became
with the luminous cilia
of a man
a plain man
made of brightest light
All of a sudden he came
All of a sudden he left
Seeing all of me was possessed
That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain
covering my home
with an opposite color of white
I got petrified
by an equal fever to your love
A battlefield were my heart
lodging the war of the tantamount
of identical charge
repulsion of the supreme
cracked the eye
and I died
Colors of all wavelengths
between black and white
fill that deserted heart now
Yet there is a new spirit
Soon she will wake up
an ancient lullaby
but with a knowing:
*I am of dark and of light
not necessarily of good or of bad
whatever you make me
I will be
which matches to which
by any color of absolute
you’ll be bewitched
make a difference
by your poetry
let me be your
one magic word
until truth is met
Title is inspired by Man Ray's 'Noire et Blanche' (1926) . I tried to remake a picture for a photo contest recently and that effort also produced this poem :)
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