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Array ( [sid] => 35967 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Fast Forward [time] => 2004-02-23 10:23:06 [hometext] => This is to Maxwell Rossing, my best friend—your own words will forever be better than my attempt, but I shall try, for you deserve praise for what you've been through. [bodytext] =>
“It was a day like any other,
(‘til something got to me.)
Was watching the dusty antique, our loyal old T.V.
A rented movie, of my choice, was playing on the screen,
When my mother came along, sitting on the sofa

The screen blinked out—she’d hit the power
On the old remote
That didn’t matter—trouble happens
(Taste mayhem table d’hotê)

Pushing on the DVD’s silver, new commander
She shut the whole darn thing right off
With confident, quick candor
The movie didn’t matter much, I couldn’t help but scoff

I just sat there, staring at the woman I’d resided with since birth
Attempting to repair the loss, the wrong remote in hand
Yet thinking still that she was boss, and thinking “that was that”
Watching it since who knows when yet forgetting it was silver
Picking up the wrong remote, excluding the distinctive choice
And suddenly I’m splitting from my voice

I saw myself outside myself, gazing at the two
Still fidgeting with the remote, the pity fills within
Loved her and annoyed by her for longer than I knew
Where would she be when I’d be gone, where would have she had been?

Making these same old mistakes, “The TV remote’s silver”
Without me to correct her she’ll repeat it ten times over

”Oh!” I leave her to peruse my life one day,
When I’ll be home alone
Where’ll she be when I must go away?
(On the other side of the phone)

Then one day, the receiver rings, and I’ll find no good byes
She’ll have slept to never wake, and the grief wells in an eye
Fingers pale in pallid grip, my nose won’t let me breathe
The sound of sniffs and tortured gasps are echoed between heaves

Upon the call, my sister knows, and crying fills the silence
The two of us, two souls near bust, and all the teary violence
Anguish has its hold on me, and lashes with no end
(A faint remorse, a whispered sob, and heartache starts again;
But the tears aren’t real, I’m not crying for her, these are things I won’t feel—yet)

“S-She’ gone. Just like that.” “I k-know.”
A long distance call for 2 and a half

A dress with frillies
A bed of cotton

The white of lilies
—and the coffin—

Heads gaze on the floor, low, discreet
Black and white attire for all
People I don’t know, I greet
I’ve seen them through a thousand falls

My sister’s arms around Richard,
Black dress on blanch’ed lips
One on him and other clenched
Exerting anger in her anguished grip

The casket lowers, ashes to ashes
Dust to dust, and kismet’s clout
But I can’t cry—
Just won’t come out.

Parked car in the driveway, the silence shrieks her name
Sitting there I know my life will never be the same
Don’t want to move, just sitting there,
Sitting still as stone;
I’m in denial, “Didn’t love her that much.”
(—Don’t want to be alone—)

“She’s your mother, Max” (Good battles bad)
Left lobe versus right
But I feel nothing—not even tired
The jetlag steals the night

Emptiness is all I know, aching like an ulcer
Where love for her was once filled me up
There’s nothing but a void
Familiar hands relieve encumbered
No words were ever needed
As cheek, caressing, on sore neck rests
Two palms embrace my chest

On my weary feet again
Nothing needed, not a doubt
I wrap my arms about my wife
—And finally the tears come out—


And it just ends there, I’m back again
Cool, the wind blows
My neck aches like the decade gone
“Ah, here we go.”

The TV blinks back into life
And the menu scrolls the pages
I rub my neck uncomfortably
(—I’d swear I’d slept for ages—)

Looking back, still feeling sore
I gaze upon the screen once more
The movie’s playing, sure enough, the introduction and the foreword
The thing had started all over
. . . . . . ..
—I had to fast forward—
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 355 [topic] => 55 [informant] => EternitysLyre [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
Fast Forward

Contributed by EternitysLyre on Monday, 23rd February 2004 @ 10:23:06 AM in AEST
Topic: dedicatedpoems




“It was a day like any other,
(‘til something got to me.)
Was watching the dusty antique, our loyal old T.V.
A rented movie, of my choice, was playing on the screen,
When my mother came along, sitting on the sofa

The screen blinked out—she’d hit the power
On the old remote
That didn’t matter—trouble happens
(Taste mayhem table d’hotê)

Pushing on the DVD’s silver, new commander
She shut the whole darn thing right off
With confident, quick candor
The movie didn’t matter much, I couldn’t help but scoff

I just sat there, staring at the woman I’d resided with since birth
Attempting to repair the loss, the wrong remote in hand
Yet thinking still that she was boss, and thinking “that was that”
Watching it since who knows when yet forgetting it was silver
Picking up the wrong remote, excluding the distinctive choice
And suddenly I’m splitting from my voice

I saw myself outside myself, gazing at the two
Still fidgeting with the remote, the pity fills within
Loved her and annoyed by her for longer than I knew
Where would she be when I’d be gone, where would have she had been?

Making these same old mistakes, “The TV remote’s silver”
Without me to correct her she’ll repeat it ten times over

”Oh!” I leave her to peruse my life one day,
When I’ll be home alone
Where’ll she be when I must go away?
(On the other side of the phone)

Then one day, the receiver rings, and I’ll find no good byes
She’ll have slept to never wake, and the grief wells in an eye
Fingers pale in pallid grip, my nose won’t let me breathe
The sound of sniffs and tortured gasps are echoed between heaves

Upon the call, my sister knows, and crying fills the silence
The two of us, two souls near bust, and all the teary violence
Anguish has its hold on me, and lashes with no end
(A faint remorse, a whispered sob, and heartache starts again;
But the tears aren’t real, I’m not crying for her, these are things I won’t feel—yet)

“S-She’ gone. Just like that.” “I k-know.”
A long distance call for 2 and a half

A dress with frillies
A bed of cotton

The white of lilies
—and the coffin—

Heads gaze on the floor, low, discreet
Black and white attire for all
People I don’t know, I greet
I’ve seen them through a thousand falls

My sister’s arms around Richard,
Black dress on blanch’ed lips
One on him and other clenched
Exerting anger in her anguished grip

The casket lowers, ashes to ashes
Dust to dust, and kismet’s clout
But I can’t cry—
Just won’t come out.

Parked car in the driveway, the silence shrieks her name
Sitting there I know my life will never be the same
Don’t want to move, just sitting there,
Sitting still as stone;
I’m in denial, “Didn’t love her that much.”
(—Don’t want to be alone—)

“She’s your mother, Max” (Good battles bad)
Left lobe versus right
But I feel nothing—not even tired
The jetlag steals the night

Emptiness is all I know, aching like an ulcer
Where love for her was once filled me up
There’s nothing but a void
Familiar hands relieve encumbered
No words were ever needed
As cheek, caressing, on sore neck rests
Two palms embrace my chest

On my weary feet again
Nothing needed, not a doubt
I wrap my arms about my wife
—And finally the tears come out—


And it just ends there, I’m back again
Cool, the wind blows
My neck aches like the decade gone
“Ah, here we go.”

The TV blinks back into life
And the menu scrolls the pages
I rub my neck uncomfortably
(—I’d swear I’d slept for ages—)

Looking back, still feeling sore
I gaze upon the screen once more
The movie’s playing, sure enough, the introduction and the foreword
The thing had started all over
. . . . . . ..
—I had to fast forward—




Copyright © EternitysLyre ... [ 2004-02-23 10:23:06]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Fast Forward (User Rating: 1 )
by Merry on Monday, 23rd February 2004 @ 10:35:13 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
A very deep write - and an intresting form. I saw a stark portrayal of how we view family relationships and death.
Well done.

merry


Re: Fast Forward (User Rating: 1 )
by Kie on Monday, 23rd February 2004 @ 03:58:16 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
This was a different and unique type of poem. I read it a couple of times to make sure I understood what you were expressing. I liked it. Thank you for sharing this with all of us. Kie


Re: Fast Forward (User Rating: 1 )
by Vitreous_Soul on Tuesday, 24th February 2004 @ 08:09:47 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
.....I would say that you have most certainly done justice to your friend's words.

Upon further scrutinization, I honestly cannot find anything I would change about this, or that I even dislike. My only (very) minor gripe is that the rhythm falters in a few parts (though I wonder if it is intentional?), and a scant few of the rhymes don't lie flat.

That's it. Just a few nit-picky details. The poem is so perfect, I can find no real fault. Your friend will assuredly love it, as well as anyone who has an appreciation for outstanding poetry. Masterfully done.

Truly,
-V.S.


Re: Fast Forward (User Rating: 1 )
by venkat on Friday, 27th February 2004 @ 02:44:58 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Remarkable performance..very unique..it diserves applauses. venkat




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