Friday, December 24, 2010

Years of Gears to Change
for D.B.A.

tied to God's goodness
thought I was cut off

to love connected also
thought I was unwanted
thought I was unloved

nerves and veins and arteries
attach to, arrive at
pass through and leave
the organ I am, where I am placed
in the body also

God's will be done
concerning painting of Antonius
a buyer wants to buy

fear I'd die to give it up
to have to part with it

would like the money too
I love the painting more

instead of ten thousand
I asked for four
want to take my word back

want to have my painting
and the money too

want to have my cake and eat it too
want it to be winter and summer too

Jesus, I want Dee in my life
as close to me as she can possibly get
as she can possibly be

want to be in her, want her to be in me

silly sweet baby I love
with all my heart and soul

without knowing how come
without knowing why

want somewhere
where I can weep out a poem
where I can whip up a poem

whip out like my dick
like I do when I'm desperate to pee

whip up like I would or one would
whip up whip cream

I am walking along the road
stopping along the road
going home

what do I care what becomes of me
about being or not being

without her, what does it matter
what becomes or does not
become of me

how I suffer in this affair
how I'm affected

afflictions to bear in this affair
the divine makes bearable

how bare in this affair
stripped to the skin, to the bone

to drive, she takes her shoes off
baby of mine, bare feet upon
cold tar surfacing the parking lot

a lot for her to have to transport
everybody home

minus me, not willing to add myself
to who- to all she has to lift

unprepared to be added to weight
to what she has to carry
my duty to make life light or lighter

I am committed to carrying her
not the reverse of this
not the other way around

no room for me to raise a hard on
with so many other friends of mine
and friends of yours in the car

you with your grown up self
transporting everybody home

you dropping me off
instead of my seeing you home safe

what sort of arrangement
would that be, what sort of man
would I be

pattern laid down
must do for a long time
for the long run
for the long haul

a ride home not a one time thing
in the situation tonight offered

not a right nor the right relationship
distance between us incorrect
or would have been

add ride offered
to the things to abstain from

I'm good at abstaining
only unable to abstain
from poetry and loving you

you know what I want to squeeze into
did not want to be squeezed into
your mom's car even with friends

with you alone in love
for time with your alone, I long
want to be longing still

no half measure
to take the edge off wanting
time, occasion, situation
to sit with you and share
or stand or lie

I want to wait until our turn
my turn comes or my twist

oh, sweetie, little darling, honey child
am I wrong to expect of you
what it takes a grown woman to deliver

I call upon the woman in you to emerge
I want to hold her: want her to hold me

don't want anything modified
want to go all the way, the whole way

old way of love for me
without sway or stray
or diluted in the least

shall we go together, my dove
to this strange feast
taste the things
offered there to eat

will there be wine served
or beer or stout for two unusual lovers

way before them, ahead of them
to them both, novel,
equally so, equally strange

holy ground to trek across
my baby and me together
hand in hand or arm in arm

mutual belief in love
not just a word for us
instead, a way of life

way of light, way among ways
straight and narrow nights
straight and narrow days

ah, honey, I know finally
it is- it was for poetry
that I refused to ride
refused your mom's warm car
with friends

no, said Frost, I am out for stars
and I will not come in,
no, not even if asked

under the stars, walking home
what have I to fear
what need have I to fear

who might assail me
have my pen to fear, my use of words

words I am able to use as skillfully
as any criminal wields a weapon

it was for poetry that I chose to walk
to foot it, to live life hard
this instead of cushioned seats
instead of wheels

preferred to foot it
for verse to come into being
for poetry to be added to
to be elevated along with song

let nothing stand between her and me
between us, oh, God

not my herpes simplex
not her twisted wig

she so biggety, seeking out
whom she knows of but does not know
to have a conversation with

as if she were so avant-garde
so open

ask her is she having her period
after writing of her, hundreds of poems
after knowing her for going on 2 years
and she shuts off, and she shuts down

Miss out going
Miss as brave as they come

brave to a point
then what is or seems like
the edge of a cliff and she were a horse

and she freezes like Sonia, last evening
when Margo appeared
and in one open palm, a great big moth

it was not a ride I wanted or needed
it was you- is you for whom I long

what you so freely give to/give out
to any friend or any one
you come across or run across

not what I want or need
need of you what even you
do not know you have to give

not what comes easy or too freely
want what a poem requires

special attention, words selected
with the greatest care
to be made over
to be made new

from scratch into what never-
into who never was in your life

what I wish to be, sweet child
baby girl, love of my life

do I take good enough care of you
and vice versa

know you limit what care
I'm allowed to take of you

hardly anything in this world
hurts me more
than your wanting distance
and independence

I want you defendant upon me
I depend upon you

you almost always come true
you seldom let me down

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 9:45 a.m. on Thursday,
December 23 and 1:06 a.m. on Friday,
December 24, 2010


Anonymous d.a. said...

We can certainly keep each other up. You must know that your art keeps me elevated. Love has us all levatating. But when some of us come down you stay up. Das why you so good.

Friday, December 24, 2010 11:22:00 AM  
Blogger Obie Quiet said...

Your ability to TAKE my poetry, d.b.a., amazes me. It always has. Your responses inspire me. We have a deep dialogue or I hope so. I do hope so. I'd really like to think we do. Oh I am grateful for your attention, appreciation and responses. Merry Christmas, d.b.a. This poem I suppose is my Christmas present or your Christmas present or part of it. And what things or verse or words you inspire! I find I am eager to compare what your 19th birthday inspired with what your 19th Christmas has inspired. I love you dearly. I always tell the world. The world already knows.

Friday, December 24, 2010 12:07:00 PM  

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