Words Make A Necklace
for T.L.C.
i
I’d wreck you with dick, with this
you certainly couldn’t take it,
take this, take dick, little as you are
as innocent, as sweet as you are,
what can I, could I keep you in
what container, what dish, what tin
how I get like this, I wish I knew
ring upon the chain about your neck
certainly looks a lot like mine
I’m unable to get you off
or keep you off my mind
what tin am I in,
what do do or what stew
ii
a minute of her to watch,
minute girl, with such large hips
what could I do with her, with them
to music in her soul, her marrow,
a collection of songs
she writes about social ills, about loss,
hers and ours
she writes to get a handle on
what, for all of us,
has gotten out of hand
she won’t allow her own life
to become undone
she knits back with poems
what life unravels
in a world of rebels,
she draws her pen
to stem the tide,
the flow of blood,
the waste of lives
as young as hers
iii
she has her own hips now,
her own horse to saddle and to ride
I want to go over the hills with her
upon thundering hooves
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
5:38 a.m. 27.12.07
for T.L.C.
i
I’d wreck you with dick, with this
you certainly couldn’t take it,
take this, take dick, little as you are
as innocent, as sweet as you are,
what can I, could I keep you in
what container, what dish, what tin
how I get like this, I wish I knew
ring upon the chain about your neck
certainly looks a lot like mine
I’m unable to get you off
or keep you off my mind
what tin am I in,
what do do or what stew
ii
a minute of her to watch,
minute girl, with such large hips
what could I do with her, with them
to music in her soul, her marrow,
a collection of songs
she writes about social ills, about loss,
hers and ours
she writes to get a handle on
what, for all of us,
has gotten out of hand
she won’t allow her own life
to become undone
she knits back with poems
what life unravels
in a world of rebels,
she draws her pen
to stem the tide,
the flow of blood,
the waste of lives
as young as hers
iii
she has her own hips now,
her own horse to saddle and to ride
I want to go over the hills with her
upon thundering hooves
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
5:38 a.m. 27.12.07
posted by Obie Quiet at 6:10 AM
2 Comments:
The poem is a bit misleading in the beginning. It seems to be solely sexual then THANK GOD it turns into something else. It made me uncomfortable reading it, considering it says, for T.L.C...I do not know how approriate it is.
Even though the poem has been seperated in sections I feel it very loose. By that I mean it is not very uniformed in thougthts.
In some places I feel lines could be re-worded and some stanzas could be switched around for a better flow.
This is different from the earlier pieces I've read from you. To be honest better. That's my feeling because instead of going on about what some other artist said, or did, it was just artistic. BUT VERY WEIRD!!!!
JUST A THOUGHT
What does your WEIRD mean, love? I've encountered it once before.
You spoke about being made to feel beautiful and desired, which you immediately followed with WEIRD.
What therefore does your weird mean? I am uncertain whether it is negative or positive even. Are you?
You seem to collapse emotionally and psychologically here, into something muddy, into someone lacking definition.
The writer though, must maintain clarity and emotional structure, as it is our duty to provide distillation, guidance for those of our species, of our community who are less defined than we aim to be.
What preceded this conclusion, I must say, was most helpful and highly appreciated.
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