Yup, new poem.
Bit of a change of pace for me. Don’t know if I love it but maybe it’s something I can build on. Less depression-centric but hopefully people here might still relate.
Don’t You Remember
Don’t you remember when the furthest edge of the earth was the corner of your street?
When we hated the street lights because they signified that it was time to go inside?
When Sundays seemed to last a life-time and we despised the rain because it meant we couldn’t go outside to play?
How something as simple as a cardboard box could entertain for hours?
It wasn’t just utilitarian, it was mystical because through imagination and artistic license it was a castle in which to hide from dragons to save from being devoured!
Don’t you remember that first crush?
How we were too young to lust or to grasp fully the concept of love but we pined for that person so much that we’d have died for the chance to hold their hand or give them a hug?
Or that first kiss?
The first time we were consciously thankful for having been born with lips?
And how we used to write love letters, an art since lost.
We poured our hearts into each one we wrote then waited in unbearable anticipation for a response and when it came, before we read it, our breath would catch and for the tiniest of moments our hearts would stop?
Don’t you remember how we rebelled against authority figures but we were still so young that that only meant our parents and teachers?
It may have just been the hormones of puberty controlling our thoughts and guiding our hand or maybe we actually were political idealists making a stand.
Maybe we did actually channel the hearts and minds of those that have struggled for so long and expend all our energy in protesting that which we found wrong.
All of these feelings, these life lessons, these teachings…
How did we forget?
How did we forget our imagination?
Not to just see things for what they are but to look closer and see how they can be so much more?
How did we forget the excitement and passion of love when it’s young and fresh,
How it makes you feel confused but in a good way because if the rest of the world were to fall you know you’d at least have that left?
How did we forget to fight for what we believe in,
When the whole world could tell us we were wrong we’d say we were right because that was our conviction?
How did we forget how to live?
This time, don’t forget, remember.
Remember that merely being alive isn’t living and that you can’t win the fight if you’re not at least a contender.
Remember that overcoming isn’t always about winning but that when you fail and fall over, standing up and persisting.
Remember to love each person as much as a romance that’s just beginning, if only because you only get back from people as much as you put in.
Just remember to live.
9 comments
Isn’t that amazing that we need to remember to live? That we get so blown off course, so stuck on the trivial details of day to day that we forget. Good poem. Great thoughts.
I never forgot to live. Throughout each moment, i’ve remained aware that things i didn’t want to do, were always obstructing, disrupting, impeding, all the stuff i actually wanted to do. And i still never got to live. And i’m sure i never will.
Cheers, Never-more.
@CN, how about recording something for that spoken word poetry collaboration already? 😛
yeah it’s a cool idea but… i’m just not on that level. I hate the way my own speech sounds. I dislike speaking these days. I try to avoid it where possible.
You think your speech sounds bad? I’ve got a bogan Sydney accent that makes me add upward-inflections incessantly where they don’t belong…pretty sure you could only come out sounding better than me!
whether other people think it’s good or bad, i dislike my own speech. I’ve always been that way, and after years of working to cultivate it to the point where i no longer felt self-conscious about it… well, to simplify, a ***** ruined my life. I stopped talking. Now i’m so out of practice, i’m back to hating the way my unpracticed speech sounds… and i just don’t have it in me anymore, to try. I used to sing a bit, not on stage, but i’d have tried, if the time was right… but now, i don’t want to speak anymore, and only do so if i must. I just don’t enjoy speaking anymore. Any type of performance would be out of the question.
Meanwhile, i happen to like typing, especially since discovering the joys of mechanical switches… and i’m pretty sure by now i’ve typed more words than i’ve ever spoken. While that might seem profound, idk if it’s really all that surprising.
These poems are changing.
It’s like watching Metallica album after album.
Yeah, this one is a definite change of pace. After chatting with a member here and then having a counselling session yesterday I set out consciously to write one a bit less focussed on how I want to kill myself.
Anyway, hope people can still enjoy it.
Well… In many ways I still am that child trying to “live” as you put it, “growing up” in our society basically means getting bogged down with running on the hamster wheel, assimilating rather than rebelling, becoming more rigid….
Most people however, retain the immaturity of childhood, the bad parts, the cliche and clique behaviors, they are trained this way through the high school and cultures, and counter cultures and what not.. In high school it’s jocks, preps, goths, metal heads, punk rockers, g boys/girls. rednecks, skaters, ravers, etc etc etc, as they grow up the cliques are liberal or conservative, and under that banner, a list of other collective identities based on race, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, disability, etc etc. People lose the magical, positive side of their youthfulness, yet hang onto the counter-productive ignorance and immaturity. I think too most people get batter down with life, with the 9-5s, bills, etc.
Honestly, I miss being a kid, when I could be easily amused by the simplest things… I also miss the times, back when people used to actually leave the house, go out and do things, rather than vegetate around an x box all day long. Before ipods, text messengers, cell phones, 200 channels of cable TV, back when art (be it visual, musical, or cinematic) actually had individuality, inspiration, spontaneity, and integrity. When more was left to the imagination, I miss taking a walk to the video store to rent a video game, back when super NES and sega genisis were cutting edge. I was a 90’s child.