Long Play out Poems
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As a writer, I am charmingly unoriginal. I use the same letters as everyone else and much of the identical punctuation but in my defense, Coca-Colas are all the same, and each one is delightfully refreshing.
On Sundays my Grandmère throws these fêtes, ‘social lunches’ where anyone might drop in - attendance, I‘m told, can be a social signal. Two weeks ago, it was fashion week and ‘smart society’ (the vampire pale and dangerously thin individuals casually dressed to kill) were trolling for fun.
There were about 150 people there, like the Mayor of Paris, Saint Laurent’s Anthony Vaccarello, Léna Situations (GenZ influencer), Just Riadh (comedian), Delphine Arnault and the Archbishop of Paris - to name a few. But I was only there for a half an hour, and it wasn’t my job to take roll.
Now, these parties all play-out, to me, like romcom ‘problem comedies.’ You have the ever-present and delicate aroma of cocktails, an Archbishop (subconsciously dangling the high trap of moral purification and great, heavenly rewards), elder frenchmen, like my uncle Remy with his languid, cigarette-lipped, smoke-cured profanity, some models hoping to be seen and younger, eager eyed, corporate boy-men types ogling every feminine creature with alcoholic heartiness.
I don’t think Grandmère sees the fun undercard of human foibles, but there are big alcohol-fueled feelings in every register as these events hit their peak. Growing up, at these things, I’d sit quietly in a corner, usually with a book, pretending to read and just people watch. Everyone’s coming and going (‘free-drinks’) but 30 or 40 people are always around somewhere.
These days, Peter shares my little, flowered, corner settee. We sit, shoulder to shoulder, and snark, like huckstas for a sports book, about who’s thirsty for whom. It’s all questionable information, surface impressions and instant verdicts.
.
.
A Song for this:
Someone In The Crowd - Emma Stone, Callie Hernandez, Sonoya Mizuno & Jessica Rothe
Only if you knew that you live like a God in a place my heart has found you fit to rule
only if you knew that I would be the opposite of what God would cal one of his own if I Were to find out that not only I
Can make you smile and make you feel sugary and not have an explanation for it
Only if you knew
you would recent the idea of falling asleep on my chest
The very foundation of your peacekeeping concentration camp would play out like the rest
You would start believing in a curse
only if you knew what would happen in the Myst of a fairy-tale Adam and eve would see themselves immortalized in being chopped in half
if My existence learnt that the absence of another man in one of the most important days of your life brought you nothing but the question of where you stand
while I. The King Still reigns by your side
I would crack open the heavens and drag down an angel with its wing
Hold it down long enough till the sins of this earth stain it so that the rejection would last longer that than existence itself
Only if you knew
How that stayed with me without knowing
The honesty we find in solace
sets us on road trips we don't have lunch boxes for
sometimes,is it about listening or is about subjecting yourself to the moral of what is right
My dear
I know the power of chemistry,It has the tendency of showing off by blowing up before the magician can make a perfect landing
Especially when the story was left on a good note
subliminally,
He invaded my castle
killed my guards and two pit bulls got into my fortress
sat on my throne and felt home
only if you knew what it does to me
That you too can establish communication that is no where to be seen
It breaks my ego in what can be put together again
only if you knew
what I would give to have the ability to snatch his contact numbers off your mind
you can look me in the eye
Serenade me with what you have to say with your mouth but its your eyes that I am looking for
windows to your soul my love
I wish you knew
how beating your life because your heart is deformed can have an impact in your trust
The trust our names put together rhymes with
Subliminally
Are we really that strong?
are we aware of the vulnerabilities that are there to parish us off
Maybe just maybe
I am reading to much into a dream
could the feeling be mutual ?
Lament was so excited
He had finally reached the age
Where he discovered the meaning
Of his name, so that he could gage
....his future
As the clan gathered
Into a circle around the fire
Tears of sorrow and grief
Lined their faces, as he began to desire
....no name
His "father" spoke a truth
Nothing or no one wanted to hear
"You were left in the woods
After the battle, so we took you into our fear
...of the gods
No child is to be left alone
But you are not part of our clan
We vowed to raise you
Until this day, when you become a man
...of no land
Your name means sorrow and grief
And identifies you as a bastard child
No matter where you go
Your name will cause you rejection, like the wild
....animal without a home"
Lament picked up his belongings
And walked away with crooked bow on his back
He finally understood the why
Of his life, always needing, and constant lack
....of basic necessities
Along his journey, he met a man
A wanderer in the desert of time
He gave him a huge bag of goods
That would entertain, as he dealt with his mind
....of intense rage
A few years down the road
He met a woman with a red coat
Who offered him wine for sorrow
And a harp, to play out, note by note
...his grievances
By the time Lament saw the next man
He yelled out, "I can't carry anymore stuff!"
The man, in patient assurance
Asked, "So you have had enough
...of seeking your own?"
Lament laid down his burden
And walked away from all he had known
For the hope of seeing fruit
From the constant toil and struggle, in the seeds he'd sown
...throughout his journey
After decades of walking with the man
Lament was given a brand new name
His name became Isaac
Laughter, in sorrow, means he would never be the same
...bastard, as before
He found out who his true father is
He created the ground Isaac walked upon
Every moment with with the man
Strengthened and solidified, the eternal bond
...of belonging
One day, the man asked Issac
"Where is your bow that made you a man?"
He answered, "It was crooked
So I left it behind, with the clan
...who gave me my name"
Toward the end of his life
Isaac met a clan member on the road
Who shouted out, "Lament"
But Isaac didn't respond, to the name with a goad
...of rejection
He walked on....fully accepted
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-20-2019
The alchemy of truth
may be from a particular perspective
or colored by youth
and sprinkled with objective
For your truth can hold your own view
your lens through which you see the world
And naivety can lead astray
and reality fall subject to that doom
And you may not have the ability yet
to completely read the room
When you don't have wisdom
You have less fear and conclusions are reached quickly
But life is so much more complex
and taken in context its sticky
Was that what was really meant
or did it happen by chance
Was it deliberate inference
or laid out by happenstance
Most times most things are not architected
they happen in real time whim
And though the outcome can be devastating
the creation is less of a sin
What leads to what
and how can that happen
isn't always clear to see the cause and effect
And so truth be known,
good intentions implode
and things go off track on their own
So don't hang the actors with the act
they alone did not write the script, it's a fact
Life is all improv
with a heavy dose of chaos
And giving to much credence to the feelings caused
can ruin what may be right there
A living pachinko machine that happened to play out
that way, this time, here
The alchemy of truth includes the lens - Artimus 9/24/23 (C) Susan Manley
The eyes see and the eyes love what is seen,
like my sister playing as a small child;
and mother's beautiful face and smiles,
my husbands f a t h o m l e s s eyes;
my baby so perfect but quite, quite DEAD.
I see all that with these sad eyes,
and I see their names engraved . . .
I see the a z u re sky, the emerald GRASS and trees,
the deep B L U E sea and birds that sing ;
and all the colors of flowers,
I will always L O V E . . .
These eyes are fading,
I am going blind,
not today but in the future;
I see my wonderful fa t h e r and sweet grandma.
Visions in my MIND play out in vivid technicolor,
all the l o v e that is my world;
the sunrises and sunsets sublime,
the rain and snowflakes;
and all the p e o p l e , I love . . .
_____________________
July 9, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/All The People, I Love
Copyright Protected, ID 07- 919-144-09
All Rights Reserved, 2017, Constance La France
Submitted into the Standard contest, Free Verse on Love III
sponsor, Laura Loo. Judged 07/2017
First Place
(“Still Life”, 2021, original encaustic)
Alternate Lives
Time appears to go in a line
From then to now
And some times it does
But at a certain point the stream
Becomes a river
Which then spreads into a delta.
I’ve always found the metaphors
Of literal geography to be the best,
And in this life can see the threads
Of alternate lives play out
All the what ifs
We’ll never really know.
What if my first wife and I had children
Instead of abortions?
I’m sure we would have stayed together,
And my daughter by the next wife would not be,
At least not who she is to me now.
And what of my life with wife number three?
Certainly that would not be.
And in the alternate beings and not beings
I would not have done all the things
I have done to make me me
And the same for everyone else touched
And moved and divided by the flow of time.
A flow that sometimes seems insignificant
Until it clearly isn’t
And the parting is complete,
Until it isn’t, and some kind of unity,
A whole greater than the parts
Is realized again.
(3/26/25)
Broken and dismantled,
A child left in shambles,
A mother left for drugs and gave up on her young,
Left alone with children who aren't my kin,
More and more depressed till i wish i was dead,
Life goes so slow,
Never thought it would happen this way,
Saw a brother die right in front of me,
I forgive people who hurt me,
As if i deserved the pain,
Locked in a closet,
Seeing my life play out with no control,
Thought i was safe,
People saying i had my fathers traits,
Said i would end up on the streets at 23 just like him,
Said they are here for me,
But im always alone,
Running from a monster they made,
Surrounded by zombies,
Who were crack fiends,
Surrounded by drunks,
Who would kill just for a drop of cheap whiskey,
They was always making snowmen,
With no snow,
Mama and her fiance were cocaine addicts making lines saying it was candy,
Always in the sky and never on earth,
I was addicted to the highs but was always low,
My mind in haze,
I had no control,
My body started to decay,
Tried to make a change but it never worked,
Got to the point that i got used to the death didnt cry for anyone not even my mom when she left once again,
Till i had nothing to say to the ones who were supposed to be family,
I was with people who never went to school,
In the gutter with the rats and homeless,
Went to foster care for 5 years in the system,
House to house it started to be,
New house but not home,
New family but not my own,
New body but not in control,
New room but still sleeping on the couch,
Have food but still going hungry,
Seen my friends leave and go to heaven wish i died with them,
Maybe one day ill be better,
Maybe one day ill see my brother again,
Maybe one day it wont affect me,
Sold all i had for petty cash,
Had stuff some people would never touch,
Yet i was still treated like a piece of trash,
Stayed up late nights waiting for a brother to never come,
Sent to a mental hospital to fix me,
Didnt work so they discarded me,
They said god had a plan for me,
But the devil was the only one who ever showed up,
Had to make a deal before my life was fully done,
Got out of foster care,
But i still felt alone and bare.
All you've heard is true.
It cannot be helped,
hard as we try
the eons of time move right along, unchallenged
much like the Pilgrim's Progress
the words of the prophets
or the biblical words of Christ
indicting us, calling our names
to open our eyes and see
to open our ears and listen not just hear,
to think and contemplate all the possibilities,
the end game that will play out.
Will you ask the right questions
what is it that you seek
what do you truly believe
where will this take you in the end
what price will you have to pay?
Your turn is coming
there is no escape.
You may do as you will
right or wrong
something will happen,
there will be a catalyst and an action
how will you handle it
will you ignore it or go with it
will you speak up or be silent
will you condemn or justify your actions
who will you answer to?
Where, when, how
will you stand among the crowds
when the decision must be made
while the path remains unclear
but now,
your chance
your time
has come.
I never said I was sane. I didn’t claim perfection no, I lean more towards distain. Compare, internalize, never share. Crazy, imperfect thoughts run everywhere but never straight. They don’t play the sane part long enough to call fun, so I can enjoy a day without feeling emotionally imprisoned. Sanity is not a noun that one would imply when describing me if I’m not around. It’s an illusion I sometimes like to create and play out. Who in this world has all their screws tightened from their making, until now. I feel like almost everyone is haunted by their day when the night begins, the sun goes down and sins creep in. Watching all your skeletons re-grow skin and walk right out of your "sane closet", again and again. Only angels can sleep in peace, they are the ones who in our darkest hour we call on for clarity and ease. Sane; so they are rewarded rest and sleep. Sometimes, I wish I was an angel who felt silence when my lids would meet. But until sanity is obtained, a sleep order is arranged. Many imperfect nights with no peace in sight are where I pray my sleep will not be sacrificed. Realizing that Sanity can’t be reached in any lifetime, even if you professed all your sins and gave up your human greed every night. It’s always going to be this mirage you will never meet, but surely think you see. As Sanity, is the greatest illusion man-made that will forever haunt me.
Bigger than bodacious,
higher TCH than contagious-
I poke at the smoke and make a cause to estrange this,
…toodle-to-do in my space ship!
I love how much I can remake this,
and bank the right to go out on a limb,
spill on the film,
make the gas on the ground increase its bliss,
run through the breeze and accept your diss,
though it is time to resist-
and look back at your breast...
Ask mother to draw me up a sign-
because like it or not you are on my line,
and my best friends,
and my bosses,
your eye’s doing crosses,
your cops pulling over bloggers!
Wait,
stop!
I said stop on a dime!
Pick one up and help pay for the blind!
We adore dances as long as they make man-shifts,
make shift-
endanger wigs,
throw out chicken strips,
and hopeless trips!
Play out banquettes, with not enough men to spank it!
Even though they're all over it,
callin' all out smurf!
And say **** anybody with my tip!
It's high in the mountain range-
and it see's you as strange!
Blame blame blame!
And then do it all again!
Go to the gym later and explain!
Ask why do young men have names?...
I haven't given them my change,
I am still alive,
I deserve to be played!
I am in turn to say hey, go away,
you little brother,
stayin' for a long time and then bein' like...mine!