For Clarence
The runt of the litter
The first time I saw her
I asked my girlfriend
What the fuck is that thing?
It looked like a crack baby
With a bad haircut
But against the odds
She eventually grew
To be the size of a potato
And stole my heart
To the point
That on more
Than one occasion
I’ve asked myself
Had she been
Born human
And myself
Born not
Mentally unhinged
Would I have been
Brave enough
To ask her out
For drinks and dancing?
But she’s a cat
And me?
I’m not sure
What the hell I am
But I love her
She loves me
And now
That she’s here
I can’t imagine
Life without her
David Burdett
5/2/2024
Lone Star
I self-published my book. Waited nervously as it gathered internet dust for a few weeks. I made a new email account. Posted a scathing one-star review. Took to Facebook, Instagram and X (but this was when it was still twitter) with my fake review, tearfully lamented this denigration of my life's work. Friends, family and acquaintances all became keyboard warriors in my defense.
I sat back and watched social media work its magic. My lone star quickly multiplied until I averaged that top tier 5-star rating. Purchases were made, first out of pity and then (I'm hoping!) as a recommended read.
Names I didn't recognize began to show up. I was trending. A complimentary review appeared on a blog, then a few more, next I was invited to a podcast. Publishers started to show interest. Someone started a fan page (no, it wasn't me).
The crazy part? That review I wrote was everything I was scared was true about my book. Was it deceitful, what I did? I mean, if that review were true, surely the buzz would have withered and died by now. But still, I feel like a castle built on a lie can be nothing but corrupt.
Do I care?
Embryonic Stages of a Truly Phenomenological Experience
Am I asleep
or awake in a dream
are things normal
so it would seem
.
Ideas transmuted
subservient to life
mirthless attitude
intellectual strife
.
Nightly rituals
oasis in my mind
resuscitate reality
troubling bind
.
Destroyed by sarcasm
love is a gift
emotional breezes
provide uplift
.
Wild compromise
sensuous delight
posed cynicism
optimistic tonight
.
Subtle variations
fragmentary thoughts
ambitious psychology
carefully overwrought
.
Am I still dreaming
within a nightmare
categorical sufferance
I’m painfully aware
.
Awkward equilibrium
exquisite blackout
poetic bliss
asymmetrical route
.
Self discovery
perverse desire
lecherous ideations
personal quagmire
.
Tormenting questions
surge of exuberance
hostile psychosis
mental incumbrance
.
Paraphernalia of existence
causality of my being
limitless creativity
psychically freeing
.
Externalized dreams
quantum conversion
chaotic knowledge
metaphysical excursion
.
Syncopated heartbeat
shortness of breath
achieving autonomy
I no longer fear death
Sacrifice
I can’t keep laying myself down on the table
as a sacrifice for everyone else.
I have the right to exist,
I have the right to survive.
I can’t keep letting myself fade
so others can be happy,
so others can live while I die,
so others can love while I cry.
I’m not Jesus. I’m not Moses.
I’m not Mohammed or the Buddha.
I’m just a weak man
who’s trying to get by,
trying to navigate the pain and strife
in this hell we call life.
4/10/2024
Today I’m supposed to start working on my self assessment at work. I’ve been really screwing up for the past year so I really don’t know what to write. Maybe “with all the shit I’ve been dealing with in my life, it’s a miracle I can get out of bed in the morning. I’d have offed myself a long time ago if I’d known this was what my life was gonna be. So my self assessment is this: it’s a miracle I’m still alive and breathing. Anything else is above and beyond.”
I feel like writing about how I make a great salary but can’t afford rent or utilities because my estranged wife who told me two and a half years ago she was gay and wanted a divorce has refused to sign the papers because she’s getting a free ride from me. I’m paying for two houses, two sets of utilities, four kids, and her. I feel like writing about how I have four young kids ages 4-10 who are struggling and having behavior problems and depression issues because of their fucked up, fractured home lives. I feel like writing about how my mom is failing mentally and can’t remember to take a shower or brush her teeth or do all the things we take for granted and how my brother moved her closer to him so it wouldn’t be as big a burden on me but I’m missing her and constantly worrying about her and I don’t even have her phone number or address. I feel like writing about how my dad died four years ago but I never grieved him because my life since then has been catastrophe after catastrophe. I feel like writing about how my soul mate who I had a short fling with is with another man now and it’s killing me emotionally and intellectually along with everything else. I feel like writing about how hard it is to work when my mind is fixed on her and my heart and soul are aching and dying. I feel like writing about how I no longer have a person, a helper, someone I can turn to. I’m drowning and I have no life preserver, nothing to reach out for. No hope.
I feel like writing about how amidst all of this, I haven’t been evicted, my electricity is still on, my kids are being fed and have a roof over their heads and the structure and discipline I’m implementing are improving their behavior. I feel like writing about how rather than sitting around moping, I’m playing music at clubs and bars, I’m facilitating a bimonthly writing workshop and a poetry/spoken word open mic. I feel like writing about how I’m constantly getting out socially and meeting new people. I feel like writing about how I’m taking karate classes, working out, and running through all my pain and sorrow. I feel like writing about how I’m in the best physical shape I’ve been in my whole life. Though there are still nights I spend alone missing my kids, missing the woman I love, smoking weed and trying to watch movies to keep myself from staring into a bottle of pills.
But somehow amidst all of this, I’m alive, living life even, and trying my damned hardest to move forward somehow.
Today I’m supposed to start working on my self assessment at work. And I feel like writing all of this. But I have to stick to work stuff. Accomplishments and whatnot. And I’ve been barely holding it together, sometimes not holding it together at all. I haven’t accomplished much of anything at work. So even though I’ve done so much, and just turning on a computer and typing a sentence is a miracle for me right now, I’m afraid all I am is a blank page.
Unplatonic
Your words are razors,
your mind’s a knife,
when we write together,
bleeding out strife,
linking like magnets,
a helix of life,
I feel the energy, the pain,
our minds like well worn shoes,
but I wanna get unplatonic with you.
I wanna feel that energy
pulsing through my veins,
feel your skin, your passion,
let go the reins,
run like stallions,
fuck like rabbits,
rattle bedposts, black and blue;
I wanna get unplatonic with you.
Our music dances,
wails and rings.
When we play,
we make the songbirds sing.
The beauty of the notes,
the pierce, the sting.
I can feel the love,
the energy blows a fuze,
but I wanna get unplatonic with you.
I wanna break down walls,
holler and scream,
slap and smack
and feel the dream,
link hands, pound skin,
pour it all out,
blow out windows, black and blue;
I wanna get unplatonic with you.
You are my soulmate,
my partner, my friend,
but I need more,
and in the end,
when the pain and suffering
rounds the bend,
you’ll always be there
and we’ve both paid our dues,
but I wanna get unplatonic with you.
I wanna break the rules,
ignore the walls,
let our screams of passion
fill the halls,
get naughty and sinful,
get perverted,
get crazy, black and blue;
I wanna get unplatonic with you.
I wanna squirm with passion,
feel the night,
go at it hard
til the morning light,
bring down the house
and fuck all night
til the sun shines through;
I wanna get unplatonic with you.
The Cure, alchemy, pages, lead paint, and where death lives.
Straight from the pure, uncut supply in the dope locker of Prose., in lucky number 21, The Cure's Robert Smith ignites some fascination, and strings it out until it becomes a list of powerhouses from the site, each one with their own style, each one strong of eye and brilliant of mind. From MeeJong and Mariah, to three or so new bloods, and one long story of ghosts in war, wrapped with dreams of old.
Here's the link to the good stuff...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnZrkptK60A
And here are the featured pieces...
https://www.theprose.com/post/810753/when https://www.theprose.com/post/810730
https://www.theprose.com/post/810553/alchemy https://www.theprose.com/post/810376/this-night
https://www.theprose.com/post/809804/springtime-in-southern-appalachia https://www.theprose.com/post/809194/viridi-oculi
https://www.theprose.com/post/810542/chamber https://www.theprose.com/post/810543/pages
https://www.theprose.com/post/810551/lead-paint https://www.theprose.com/post/810354/poems-never-happened
https://www.theprose.com/post/809641/scopaesthesia https://www.theprose.com/post/31657/where-death-lives
https://www.theprose.com/post/40967/old-dreams
And, as always...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
covered with the velvet of the night sky
I spread myself like ashes
in the dark
the warmest snow known to men,
these grey and red-colored flakes
made from the remains
of my soul,
( of my shell-shaped heart )
can you see it?
can you feel it?
tell me that you do
tell me it runs through your bloodstream
that it ignites your bones
that it paints crimson threads
between my fingertips
and yours
it's those stars that speak of flame
and dust
that love that exhales peacefully
in the midst of chaos
that sigh of relief
when the last galaxy in you has exploded
that exhale of surrender
bringing you to your knees
( multiple colored reflections
of the universe's song
vibrating inside your core
like a melody long forgotten
but forever present,
the most familiar echo
the sweetest whisper
that primal fire of the first breath
that synergy of all things that has led
me
to you )
I spread myself like ashes
in the dark, my love
the warmest snow known to men ,
I paint my bones with the black dust
from long-gone heartbeats
of Nebula's once golden tears
and the diamond longing
of all the Supernovas that came before me
their ink-dark powder covering my skin
so I can imitate the night sky
and shine
like never-ending clusters
of falling stars ,
so when I jump
into the abyss above
I will find my way to you
I will find my way to my other half of the night sky
I will find you there covered
in the same dust
skin shimmering with the softest embrace
of the cosmos that is now also mine,
I feel you now
you're calling my name
murmurning it so gently
against the loudness
that surrounds me
against the always present buzzing
of the human kind
I hear you
and my legs start running
my feet thud a rhythm against the ground
I jump
I leap
I fall
breathlessly and helplessly
into your sphere
like an unstoppable force never to be tamed
I take your hand
and our fingertips touch
the red thread connecting us
swirling
and twisting
around our wrists
gravity no longer holding it back
( like an underwater current,
so gentle in its caress )
there is no beginning to it
nore end
just a gentle string
moving to an elegant dance
a unique choreography designed
for the hearts beating
under our ribs
like pulsating drums
for the souls breathing between our scars
and hopes
like the softest
breeze of a summer's night
my sky whispers to yours
home is here
home is now
home is with you
In the Presence of Humanity
The bleakness of my existence
was challenged aggressively when
a being of mortal perfection
turned and stared at me
her eyes consumed my soul
leaving me stunned
in the wake of
her remarkable sensuality
at that moment
everything was different
yet remained the same
her beauty was indomitable
against the nauseating ugliness
life regurgitated
as a matter of habit
while I vacillated
between illusion and disillusion
after realizing I conjured
this amazing being
into my unbalanced reality
attempting to temporarily offset
the pathetic loneliness
of my existence
forcing me to admit
“I need humankind.”