I’ve lost the wonder.
No it’s true: once I had it,
now it’s gone.
The Wonder.
It’s gone. Gone and pissed off.
Vacated the premises. Put up
a nice clean fresh TO LET
sign. It’s moved in with a
younger crowd, hangs out now
with the renter students
across the street, even goes to
their bars now, you know the
ones, those ones along
Parke’s Passage, go along the
street, turn left then down
a bit.
So that’s it.
No more naturally induced
pleasure rushes for me. Oh no,
all gone now for selfish little old
me. I am purely reliant on
chemically induced turn ons
now. That, is my lot.
Nature has gone, took its leave.
You know those old unexpected
excitements induced through
clear, fresh neurons? You know
you know you know the ones
like a rush from something as
simple as a new view, or a building
at a different but affecting angle that
just made you imagine; or a
townscape or a landscape
anywhere in the world that is
not here or the smell of a city,
a new city that made you feel
moved, that made you feel alive.
Music for example used to make
me cry. Lots of it did once. But not
anymore. As a general rule only
films can make me cry these days
and this- as a general rule- only
when I am sat alone.
So there you go. Got the angle?
The only rushes I get these days
is from mooching around the
house and finding the gloopy
buzz that only a wonderful
bottle can supply. It’s the great
re-balancer you see: can you see
that? It equalises me, takes me
back to where I was before to what
I was before, before I became
‘You bastard.’ It’s a portal, a
transferor, a retro-filter. And
ohmigod it’s a cruel mistress
because it gives me glimpses of
what could be, of what I could have,
then she pushes me further away
from it, so much further away from
it so that I’m falling again, falling
all the way, away from The Wonder
and you see, therein is the catch,
the catch is being unable to forget
The Wonder but never to regain it.
The torture is to have the glimpse
and remember then know the
smack of denial.
I want to forget about The Wonder.
I want you to take it from me,
I want you to understand this:
The Wonder has fucked
off for good.
Skemster 19/02/97
28 comments:
This poem has really struck a chord with me. I was once one of those 'renter students' or at least I tried to be. My equaliser has changed to something a little tamer these days and I find comfort in making things. Creating and fixing is very therapeutic. I make beadwork jewellery and give them to people that like them.
Awful. The feeling, I mean. I understand it.
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very nice and impressive.
wooha, struck me there too fella. I'll be thinking about this one for a while..
I love people who writes poetry. They are so deep. They own the lines and they live by it. I enjoyed your poem. I can connect to your lines.
I love the poet..thanks for sharing..
Hi,
I love the way you
present long lines
wRapped to golden
nuggets.
I do not accept ones like above which are not technically right in sense, but do not actually have any meaning with the above post. But could work with probably 90% of other posts....
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Awesome, the poem was very nice I’m so happy to be back on line can check your blog without sneaking it at work! course I’ll probably still do that sometimes
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