The Poetry I Spout Sometimes

I do that once in a while, just spout utterly random poetry for your enjoyment. One is from my POV, the other is from the POV of some girl who's been cheated on. Who is not me. She's much less tolerant and more Christine-ish than me. Now, let me explain. The girl is NOT Christine, and the guy she references is NOT Raoul, because that would be Raoul-bashing and blatant EC-ishness. And I don't do that. Right?

Ely and Erika: (Cross fingers behind Kat's back)

Anyway. Here's the poem, for your dubious enjoyment.

Scent

I could smell
Mildew and silence
On the coat you always wore
I could sense a furtive air
As you're walking out the door
But I never complained
No I'd never complain
So despite the therapy sessions
I guess I'm feeling the consequences
I never minded the smell of your sweat
Or when you left me with no money
But groceries to get
But mister, this is the end of the line.
I've smelled a perfume.
That perfume isn't mine.

Ok, so that was a Raoul bashing, EC rant. I swear to God, Erika made me do it.

Ely: I helped!

Oy. Anyway, next poem. This one is from my own POV. 'Tis about my Aunt, Billiana Bening, who recently passed away from cancer. Condolences not accepted under any circumstances, do not be sorry for my loss, I haven't lost anything, she is still with me and will be for the rest of my life.

For Billiana

Why doesn't the world take notice?
How can they let it pass by?
You're all silent and I must be dreaming
And I cannot wake up, though I try.

Someone fell off of the face of the earth
And the world doesn't spin off it's axis
Something tells me that this is ordinary
To survive I know I'll have to practice.

Somebody died to-day, good morning
How are the eggs? Like my new shoes?
The obvious is now the oppressed
In grief there is nothing to lose.

The moon isn't darkened or flaming
The stars have not rearranged
Am I the only one in the world
Who finds that a little bit strange?

Poetry is one of those things that is just a great, great thing. The only thing better is PotO inspired poetry, hence this little poem from Erik's POV from after he let Christine go. Angst is good. This can also be sang to the tune of "The Lost Boy's Lament" from the Peter Pan adapted musical "Peter and Wendy." Not the Mary Martin one, this one is more serious, plus it's done with very interesting marionettes. The music's gorgeous, very Pictish goodness, so it's in my blood.

Fly Away Child

Fly away child
Fly away
The angel behind you
Is letting you go

What fools we were
Have been
Will be

Fly away child
Away from me

What’s found is lost
What’s lost is found
What we have gained is gone
What’s truth is lies
What’s lies is truth
So carve your heart of stone

Fly away child
Fly away
The grass is dead
But growing
Now leave me alone
My dreams are all going

Fly away child
Fly away
Forget what you know
What you’ve seen
What you are

Fly away child
Ever more
Fly away evermore.

Ah, poetry. Now that you've read mine, read Musique et Amour's. He's from FFN, and he's quite good. In a more professional vein, I reccomend Poe, Dickonson, Yeats, and so many others. "The Second Coming" is one of the best poems ever written. Go find it!

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer
Things fall apart, the center cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. . .

I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,

J.G.