The poem in question: is only here, on this blog, in this commentary.<\/p>\n
On January 8, 1998, I tried to write down my thoughts in a poetic-type form, but without much attempt at polish. \u00a0I did the same thing again three weeks later, which text I’ll disclose in the next commentary. \u00a0First, the text:<\/p>\n
I’m sitting here thinking about life
\nand where I’m headed with it
\nit’s a difficult puzzle
\none of those five thousand piecers
\nages seventeen and up
\nmost things are there and stable
\nbut some I just don’t know about
\nI try to reconcile with myself
\nbut I’m a tough negotiator<\/p>\nI love her so much
\nsometimes it doesn’t seem like enough
\neven I hurt
\neven I cry
\nsometimes
\nI thought I died long ago
\nsomewhere clouded in the past
\nI found myself somewhere in her
\nI hope the void can be repaired
\nI yearn for her presence
\nmaybe I’m crazy<\/p>\nI try to make myself believe
\nit’s not me it’s not me it’s not me
\nI try to believe it’s the right thing
\nto trust in what I cannot see<\/p>\nshe said a way with words
\nI said sideways
\nshe said it’s good enough
\nthank you
\nyou made my day<\/p>\nmyself infuriates myself
\nwhy did I allow myself to be
\nso blind so misled so utterly unable
\nI try to remedy the situation
\nI try to repair what I broke so many times
\nat least I’ve finally come clean
\nthey know now what only I knew<\/p>\nhe says sometimes music doesn’t cut it
\nyou gotta weep
\nI don’t know if I can or not
\nI try and sometimes it works and sometimes not<\/p>\nI’m just profoundly frustrated by all this<\/p>\n
all my hopes and fears and dreams are locked away
\nonly she can truly penetrate my demesne
\nshe has to search thoroughly for me
\nbut when she finds me the reunion is wonderful
\nI don’t know where I was before
\nor rather I do and I don’t want to recall<\/p>\nsometimes it isn’t fair
\nmaybe I’m just not seeing the big picture
\nI wish I could but I’m glad I can’t
\nI’d probably be too overwhelmed anyway
\nand heaven knows I don’t need that now<\/p>\nO do not forsake me is my cry of late
\nI don’t like the idea of being forsaken
\nI like the idea of being loved
\nit’s so much more fulfilling than the alternative<\/p>\nI’m just one big paradox
\nI can’t even begin to explain this one
\nmaybe I’ll find my answer someday
\nsooner than I expect<\/p>\nit’s so hard to accept but I think I can manage
\nif not oh well
\nno big thing
\nthere’s always tomorrow<\/p><\/blockquote>\nThese are mainly just the ramblings of a teenager, with doses of angst, self-pity, and longing, with some sappy only-my-girlfriend-gets-me thrown in for good measure.<\/p>\n
Because of the free form and lack of effort toward any real structure, I never really considered this text, and “Three Weeks Later,” to be “canonical” poetisms. \u00a0They’re not included in my master poetisms document or my green notebook, and I don’t know if I’ve ever even shown them to anyone, except maybe my wife. \u00a0I thought about keeping them that way, but in the spirit of not being embarrassed about old writing stuffs<\/a>\u2014and to have a backup of the text on the interwebs, I suppose\u2014the text is now here for all the people who visit my blog to enjoy, or at least read.<\/p>\n
As for the content,\u00a0there are references to then-recent poems my pathetic attempt<\/a> and O do not forsake me<\/a>. \u00a0There are silly phrases like “one of those five thousand piecers \/ ages seventeen and up.” \u00a0This was written about a month before my 18th birthday, and I think it’s a little funny that I thought my puzzle of a life was difficult, but that I was just at the right age to tackle it, though not without fear.<\/p>\n
The line “I\u2019m just profoundly frustrated by all this” is taken directly from R.E.M.’s “Ignoreland,” \u00a0while the lines “he says sometimes music doesn’t cut it \/\u00a0you gotta weep” are a reference to Paul Simon’s “The Cool, Cool River,” which is still one of my favorite songs. \u00a0There was a time when I had printed out a portion of the lyrics for display:<\/p>\n
And I believe in the future
\nWe shall suffer no more
\nMaybe not in my lifetime
\nBut in yours, I feel sure
\nSong dogs barking at the break of dawn
\nLightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm
\nAnd these streets
\nQuiet as a sleeping army
\nSend their battered dreams to heaven, to heaven
\nFor the mother\u2019s restless son
\nWho is a witness to, who is a warrior
\nWho denies his urge to break and run
\nWho says, \u201cHard times?
\nI\u2019m used to them
\nThe speeding planet burns
\nI\u2019m used to that
\nMy life\u2019s so common it disappears\u201d
\nAnd sometimes even music
\nCannot substitute for tears<\/p><\/blockquote>\nThere is also the familiar theme of repeated struggle with my inner demons and wondering if I will ever be good enough to overcome them. \u00a0I get the sense that I felt\u00a0like I failed so many times that success seemed impossible, or at least undeserved. \u00a0But I do like that at the end I arrived at the conclusion: “I think I can manage \/ if not oh well \/ no big thing \/ there’s always tomorrow.” \u00a0It implies an acknowledgement that sure, life is hard, but it’s worth living and hopefully has more ups than downs. \u00a0No matter how many times I do fail, I can try again, or as more eloquently put by Professor X in the movie “Days of Future Past”: “Just because someone stumbles and loses their path, doesn’t mean they can’t be saved.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The poem in question: is only here, on this blog, in this commentary. On January 8, 1998, I tried to write down my thoughts in a poetic-type form, but without much attempt at polish. \u00a0I did the same thing again three weeks later, which text I’ll disclose in the next commentary. \u00a0First, the text: I’m […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=204"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/204\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=204"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=204"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.grassmonk.net\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=204"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}