A Brighter Spark

A Brighter Spark

A Poem by Saint No-One
"

A poem about personal growth as I undergo recovery, and change from boy to man.

"
With the endless knowledge
of youthful rebellion,
I wanted to burn.
I longed, 
in the vast course of history,
for my life to become
a fantastic pyroclasm 
which split the night.

But the brightest candle is the first
to burn out.
An infinitesimal twinkle
in the language of stars,
returning light years away
to the fathomless hollows of dark.

I wanted to burn
bright enough that the gods would notice me.
But which flame makes the greater mark?
A blistering inferno
that razes a forest to the ground,
or the steadily burning wood-stove
that warms a family through the frigid winter.

I have found my answer.
have you found yours?

I've been accused of throwing
alcohol and gasoline on my emotions.
Malcontent to live in each moment as it came.
I wanted more...
More coffee, 
more women, 
faster cars, 
longer sex, 
hotter food, 
more alcohol.

I watched the world,
flooded with such intensity
my eyes became welder's goggles.
So blinkered to the world
that only an eclipse 
could penetrate them.

I fueled my body with drugs
and sex
and caffeine
and whiskey.
My four-cylinder heart was an engine,
pumping more fuel than blood.
I was a walking train wreck,
cruising for a James Dean highway disaster.

I was standing 
waist deep in my own grave,
But shovel clenched in my shaky arthritic hands,
I hungered for more.
It felt as if I hadn't slept in a year.
My lidded eyes drooped
flush and bloody like a crime-scene photo.
The darkened sockets bruised
carrying baggage for the trip of a lifetime.

I've always thought New York and I
had a lot in common.
"The City That Never Sleeps."
I can relate.
My mind is stuck on 5 AM rush hour
and I didn't know how to stop,
but I knew I was going to crash.

So I'm packing up my bags
and setting down the bottle.
This Sunday
will be thirty days,
for the first time in years,
with no drugs coursing through my veins.
I keep praying that one day,
they will stop coursing through my head.

For the first time
I'm choosing not to burn,
but to shine.
 

© 2013 Saint No-One



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TLK
The first stanza sets up something unusual. The opposition of 'endless' and 'burn' is very antagonistic. This is intensified with 'pyroclasm' -- what is supposed to be endless is not the existence, but the message of the self-destruction. I think you have found a very hot, bursting, metallic way of saying this.
You ruminate on this in a more mature way in the second stanza. The way you 'telescopic zoom' from a candle to a star is quite dizzying. "infinitesimal twinkle" is a nice touch, it brings a distant coldness that promises something else apart from the phosphorus-bright burning you started with.
This rather galactic image becomes much more human in staza three -- the second line is of great note here. There is another conflict -- does the rebel want to burn for himself, for a message, or for approval? Many questions are asked here, many evaluations are possible. This is a work that I had to read slowly.
The direct question that forms the axis that the poem spins around is yet another shift. I think that this poem is more than just a question: I would genuinely be interested in peoples' responses.
The rest of the poem seems to be your personal answer. From this, I really fixated on "James Dean highway disaster", which is a very direct and unsentimental image.
The turning point of the grave (which you yourself is digging) has all the loamy earthiness that you could hope for... and is an amazing place to end up after a journey through such a large amount of possibility.


The most powerful line of all, for me, is "they will stop coursing through my head". It gives a sense of the damage and disarray possible when you try to outdo yourself until your very sinews threaten to strangle you.]


I've taken a lot from this poem, and I have a feeling I will come back in the future to read it again.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

TLK

4 Years Ago

Just to prove that you prompted something, as if my thoughts above are not enough:
http://www... read more



Reviews

wishing you all the best in your journey

edgar lee masters said in his poem silence that 'if he could describe it all, he would be an artist but if here an artist there would be deeper wounds which he could not describe

we have to remember to be kind to ourselves

Posted 4 Years Ago


This poem, although beautiful, is filled with sadness and self-destruction, i believe this is a great representation of a journey from a decade long death and a second long awakening. You portrayed the link between destruction and survival fantasticly. Excellent job, not just on the poem. Well done.

Posted 4 Years Ago


[send message][befriend] Subscribe
TLK
The first stanza sets up something unusual. The opposition of 'endless' and 'burn' is very antagonistic. This is intensified with 'pyroclasm' -- what is supposed to be endless is not the existence, but the message of the self-destruction. I think you have found a very hot, bursting, metallic way of saying this.
You ruminate on this in a more mature way in the second stanza. The way you 'telescopic zoom' from a candle to a star is quite dizzying. "infinitesimal twinkle" is a nice touch, it brings a distant coldness that promises something else apart from the phosphorus-bright burning you started with.
This rather galactic image becomes much more human in staza three -- the second line is of great note here. There is another conflict -- does the rebel want to burn for himself, for a message, or for approval? Many questions are asked here, many evaluations are possible. This is a work that I had to read slowly.
The direct question that forms the axis that the poem spins around is yet another shift. I think that this poem is more than just a question: I would genuinely be interested in peoples' responses.
The rest of the poem seems to be your personal answer. From this, I really fixated on "James Dean highway disaster", which is a very direct and unsentimental image.
The turning point of the grave (which you yourself is digging) has all the loamy earthiness that you could hope for... and is an amazing place to end up after a journey through such a large amount of possibility.


The most powerful line of all, for me, is "they will stop coursing through my head". It gives a sense of the damage and disarray possible when you try to outdo yourself until your very sinews threaten to strangle you.]


I've taken a lot from this poem, and I have a feeling I will come back in the future to read it again.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

TLK

4 Years Ago

Just to prove that you prompted something, as if my thoughts above are not enough:
http://www... read more
I remember you writing this and I'm so proud of you and how far you've come. A beautiful poem to tell an amazing story, keep it up. :)

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Really great poem. Awesome job :)

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 23, 2013
Last Updated on March 26, 2013
Tags: addict, recovery, pain, misery, burn, fire, night, god, addiction, NA, whiskey, grave, new york, small town

Author

Saint No-One
Saint No-One

Madera, CA



About
I am an artist, but my mind doesn't work the way I want it to. One day I'll be, washing myself with handsoap in a public bathroom, thinking how did I get here? Where the hell am I? more..

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