deepundergroundpoetry.com
Heavy Heavy
I crawled out of bed and my feet hit the ground,
Pounding the floor like weights of lead.
Something weighs me down today,
Heavier than heavy.
I just want to reinsert myself
Back into the blanketed, air-chambered comfort of my nightly womb
and go back to sleep.
So unsatisfied with the status quo.
It peels off of me my optimism,
my care for everything else.
My animata cringes
at the direction in which I must once again force it to move
and makes me a new but familiar kind of heavy.
Heavier than heavy.
Heavy heavy.
Like a jazz musician playing with slow-speed gibberish
to enhance the chaos of his shrill trumpet creaks and blasts,
tearing and taking off each layer of resistance
until you find a common ground in his dismay
and general dislike for the things going on around him...
and inside him.
It's a stale refrain
with the same nightly message,
so dull in its shine it can't even muster a proper insult,
just a feeling of not being there at all...
empty... but heavy.
Or maybe just hollow
and the shell contains the weight.
Pounding the floor like weights of lead.
Something weighs me down today,
Heavier than heavy.
I just want to reinsert myself
Back into the blanketed, air-chambered comfort of my nightly womb
and go back to sleep.
So unsatisfied with the status quo.
It peels off of me my optimism,
my care for everything else.
My animata cringes
at the direction in which I must once again force it to move
and makes me a new but familiar kind of heavy.
Heavier than heavy.
Heavy heavy.
Like a jazz musician playing with slow-speed gibberish
to enhance the chaos of his shrill trumpet creaks and blasts,
tearing and taking off each layer of resistance
until you find a common ground in his dismay
and general dislike for the things going on around him...
and inside him.
It's a stale refrain
with the same nightly message,
so dull in its shine it can't even muster a proper insult,
just a feeling of not being there at all...
empty... but heavy.
Or maybe just hollow
and the shell contains the weight.
Published 1st Feb 2011
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likes 3
reading list entries 2
comments 10
reads 1237
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
1st Feb 2011 8:12am
"My animata cringes
at the direction in which I must once again force it to move"
i gave a pleasant "ugh" at that word, 'animata'...feckin' cool way to explain this bit, and your ending is marvelous:
"empty... but heavy.
Or maybe just hollow
and the shell contains the weight."
i love your description, it's inescapable; such eloquence in conveying that deep dissatisfaction. great stuff, PTM. it's nice to see more of your work up.
at the direction in which I must once again force it to move"
i gave a pleasant "ugh" at that word, 'animata'...feckin' cool way to explain this bit, and your ending is marvelous:
"empty... but heavy.
Or maybe just hollow
and the shell contains the weight."
i love your description, it's inescapable; such eloquence in conveying that deep dissatisfaction. great stuff, PTM. it's nice to see more of your work up.
2nd Feb 2011 1:46am
Glad you liked it. This one holds a special place because of what it invoked whilst writing it. Though the mood was glum the piece was a true joy.
1st Feb 2011 9:47am
2nd Feb 2011 1:44am
Anonymous
1st Feb 2011 9:32pm
This is an almost perfect poem. You've nearly conquered your previous fault of making lines too long in a verse, as the breaks here seem organised and right. The concept is original, the similes stylish and unique, the sentences carved with sophistication. My favourite line:
"the blanketed, air-chambered comfort of my nightly womb"
One small grammatical nit: "Its a stale refrain." There should be an apostrophe between the "t" and the "s" in "its," as it's an abbreviation of "it is."
"the blanketed, air-chambered comfort of my nightly womb"
One small grammatical nit: "Its a stale refrain." There should be an apostrophe between the "t" and the "s" in "its," as it's an abbreviation of "it is."
1st Feb 2011 10:27pm
'Heavier than heavy.
Heavy heavy.
Like a jazz musician playing with slow-speed gibberish
to enhance the chaos of his shrill trumpet creaks and blasts'
The description in so few words are stunning here, I think even the title was clever. It made me smile as it's such a weary poem yet it took me back to a time in primary school where I said to a girl in my class "I don't like him, I like, like him." It's funny that words and expressions can do that yet it's such a glum poem. I like that you can read it and handle it even if you're in a positive mood. Nice work!
Well, Jack, if that's its only flaw then I just perfected it. :) Thank you as always for your invaluable read and insight.
LA, I don't know how much experience you have with jazz but it really felt like jazz when I was writing it. The slow, thick notes building to a harsh crescendo. And even though the noises are shrill you just can't take yourself away from the feeling. Thank you for your read.
LA, I don't know how much experience you have with jazz but it really felt like jazz when I was writing it. The slow, thick notes building to a harsh crescendo. And even though the noises are shrill you just can't take yourself away from the feeling. Thank you for your read.
3rd Feb 2011 1:46am
The heaviness, the density and weight of the mood come across so well here. My absolute favorite part is that whole stanza about the jazz musician~that is some beautiful writing there. The ending is perfection: "Or maybe just hollow / and the shell contains the weight". Wonderful piece, Pierre~simply wonderful...
3rd Feb 2011 3:24am
25th Apr 2011 8:21am
Too too many lines to try to quote to show you what my favorites are. I am always impressed with your descriptive abilities.
