PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

Truest Sight - poem

Friday, Jul. 19, 2002
Truest Sight

(Someone that will never make you sorry
That you took the sunshine and turned it down to glow
Someone who makes you close your eyes so
That you can truly see them with truest of sight)

I get that melancholy happiness running through my veins
I stopped to touch the drawing on the wall to inspect its texture
My mind closed around the vision that was there for me
I wondered if my brain could photograph it for you to see
I felt the warm breeze run around my thighs and I wondered
What do your fingertips feel like blowing around my flesh?

I hear the music in the background and who was the fool that
Repeated a line a million and wait this is the oneth time for me
Looking up at the ceiling in the room while everyone looks
All around me standing in the middle of the room the fool
The pretty colors someone, who was that someone that hung
From the ceiling with paint stained clothing or was it his skin?

(Someone that will never make you sorry
That you took the sunshine and turned it down to glow
Someone who makes you close your eyes so
That you can truly see them with truest of sight)

Something happened to me that I canít put a name onto
That Iíll never find a cure for but I gladly carry the affliction
Itís like a scar that has this cool story behind it and you hope
That someone will ask you how you got it so that you can
Sit them down on your bed and weep out your sob story
But then again you donít because itís all your own pain

I just know that when I walk down the street now I
Hear my feet hit the sidewalk in a rhythm I see the sky
Meet the horizon in a flat lazy line and I want to curl it
Up at both ends with the tendrils of my hair into a
Smile that will hold you safe in its curve like a swing
You can sway back and forth in lifeís breeze on me.

(Someone that will never make you sorry
That you took the sunshine and turned it down to glow
Someone who makes you close your eyes so
That you can truly see them with truest of sight)

Can anyone see all of what is happening to me in this
Moment that took a lifetime to find or is it just me standing
Inside this crowd once again all alone inside the world
Well for once I donít care who saw me who is there
Or who is around me thinking I am the fucked one
Because the shine I have is only there for some to see

In a room full of blanked out misery smiling over the brim
Of every glass of liquid sin gyrating entities thatís all it is
For all of me to see and I wonder how did I get here, wait I followed
Someone because they led me and I was too weak to make that
Turn. My turn will come again I keep thinking it so surely it
has to be. My turn signal clicks that blink blink because itís stuck.

Iím trapped on a straight line
I just want someone to love me as much as I love them
You wouldnítí think that was so hard would you
But itís like asking the earth to stop spinning
And now I tell you everything I felt that night
I tell you my rambling and you say donít erase it

You tell me itís perfect when I look out under
my eyelashes and see my own truth. Iím just lost and I ask you
to steer me right. And that is when you tell me what I will
never in a lifetime forget. And you smile and say

ďWhenever Iím confused I turn leftĒ.

Why left?
I hear the smoke exhale, ďtwo wrongs donít make a rightĒ.
And my straight line curves because of you.

You are my
Someone that will never make me sorry
That I took the sunshine and turned it down to glow
Someone who makes me close my eyes so
That I can truly see you with truest of sight


Some poems that you write you have no real recollection some time later what exactly you were thinking about. Other times itís a picture that you see in future days and you remember exactly where you were, how it formed itself and who and what itís all about.

I went to the House of Blues. I was very upset because of a lot of events at the time. At the time KC and the Sunshine Band was playing and there was all this great artwork. I have a friend who is an artist. He and I have the strangest most prolific conversations. I was so sad, so bereft. The person I was with at the time, he kept disappearing and coming back handing me drinks to pacify me. I was just beginning to have the feelings of something impending coming on. I had to concentrate on a conversation that I had with my friend Greg just to keep my sanity that night. I still canít hear a KC song without crying.

Greg and I still talk. We talked heavily for a 6 month period in my life. A very difficult 6 month period. Our conversations were intense. He and I still talk. At this point heís in a band called ďMusic Hates YouĒ and is playing in GA. When he calls me now, which is not often at all, not often enough, but now we barely have to speak to know how the other is. We just formed something that has no words. Iím not in love with him. I donít want to sleep with him. Heís just someone that never made me sorry about any aspect of the relationship we have. Itís a surreal friendship. I wrote about a dozen poems during that time that are entirely different than most of my other stuff. I know it was because of him. I know he forever changed the course of how I write. He added color to a white canvas. He had influence.

ďWhenever Iím confused I still turn left.Ē
4:10 p.m. ::
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