dig

this is a slam or spoken word piece and someday i'll probably post an evoka of it... right now still a work in progress.

You didn’t call me on my birthday…

but maybe you were too busy burying

another memory;

cause you sounded grave 

when I called you up a few days later

and…

somehow I tend to forget that this

this is what happens when i dig.

 

Still,

my tongue turns earth;

labors to understand how

difference of belief

justifies a love kept

safely

six feet deep.

 

Remind me again Father,

in my mother’s-tongue; her

maternal manipulations

you clumsily try to conceal behind religion.

 

“If thine right hand offendeth thee…”

you cut me off

as I try to explain

not very well that

“you hurt me”

and that I don’t think you understand how sharp

silence can be.

 

See

I don’t think childhood should be a scrapbook filled

with more scriptures verses than scraped knees.

I didn't fall down enough.

 

So forgive me for falling from grace

but I needed to be grounded.

Forgive me but I need a little more time,

a bit more understanding,

and a phone call would have been nice.

 

or a card

 

or an email.

 

The long-distance amplifies the awkwardness

as you try to explain

why you only had your thoughts to give me that day.

Let’s jump back a week to our last conversation

where while discussing politics

I told you that I don’t support

proposition “hate”

and apparently that’s the reason you

dropped the phone when I turned 28.

 

 

But wait... I remember.

This is what happens...

 

Our conversations may be cordless but there are

always strings attached.

After all, you wouldn't want to appear to condone

homosexuality

by giving me a guilt free connection to family;

would you?

 

So I keep it simple;

put the shovel down and ask you about the weather,

your factory job,

and have you seen any good movies lately?

 

Safe subjects

like silicate, slowly suffocate my identity.

I inhale your stale ideologies

as you stamp down the soil

making things...

smooth again.

 

Walking over me you make your way

to the end of the conversation...

"um. I love you,"

I mumble like a heartbroken earthquake.

 

You don't say it back

before you hang up,

leaving me with mud in my eyes

and a belated birthday present of

guilt,

giftwrapped.

Author's Note

this feels nearly there but i'm still not sure about some parts. not sure it flows the way i want it to. any constructive criticism is welcome.

Reviews

[April Child]

This is brilliant. It brings to mind the Philip Larkin poem - this be the verse...

They f**k you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

Sorry to quote another poem in your review but your piece your left those words ringing in my head.

Back to your piece however, there is much in here I like, I mean really like. The whole thing about digging, I'm digging :) and the continuity of that theme of grave digging, smoothing over the earth at the end and then walking over you, leaving you with that cold shudder we term as someone walking over our grave.

"Our conversations may be cordless but there are
always strings attached."

ouch.

I read it out loud and it all flows and works for me, i can offer no criticism just a huge pat on the back. This is an excellent piece. Get on stage and read it!

[Katherine Moure]

"Safe subjects
like silicate, slowly suffocate my identity.
I inhale your stale ideologies
as you stamp down the soil
making things...
smooth again."

I really admire this stanza. It works well with the poem and sums it up nicely.

The unorthodox punctuation of the entire piece almost makes me feel like I am at a slam hearing you read it; it creates a distinct voice even though I've never heard you speak.

I would not remove anything you have already written in this piece. I've evaluated it a few times and I think everything in there is pertinent enough, and emotionally engaging enough, that if you took it out I would miss it. It is a rather long poem though, for being the type of poem it is, so I wouldn't add much to it either.

I spent hours today debating my parents on convention and religion. I think this subject will really drive it home for a lot of people. It's a beautiful poem!

[Ruth]

There is so much infused within this!
I truly think its amazing! Awesome!
Darkness of humour with profundity!
I love this!
xx

[alan peter kelly]

i enjoyed the alliteration / simile / sense of humour / turn of phrase / punchline...a unique write...perhaps it's your norm...but not something to which I am accustommed...i will return to read again and critique more clinically...

[Raef C. Boylan]

You tricksity critter...I began this with a grin because the word play was so delightful -

"but maybe you were too busy burying
another memory;
cause you sounded grave" [already, two great links to the title]

- but then it turned serious so I needed to switch my head to a different mode
[yes i am secretly a robot...apparently...]

Some great rhymes throughout, which add to the power of what you're saying; rhyme can lend finality/strength/rhythm and you put it all to use in this piece:
"difference of belief
justifies a love kept safely six feet deep"
"I told you that I don't support proposition "hate"
and apparently that's the reason you dropped the phone when I turned 28" etc.

While it is excellent, I agree with you about the flow in some parts. I think maybe the outright personal element of this could be making it harder for you to execute the piece with your usual genius.
Trying to find particular places where the flow pulled me out of the poem...erm...aha:
"Let's jump back a week to our last conversation
where while discussing politics".
Hmm. S**t, that seems to be the only place; not enough to justify criticism really.
Anyway, the sentence structure or the here's-what-happened-in-full 'telling' tone of it...something along those lines is what disturbs the flow here. Everything else is snappy metaphor and imagery.

I may be talking bollocks here. I'm sorry.
This is a great piece and I look forward to hearing it if you still plan to post an evoka[?]

[DC Gentleman]

the pain is truly felt... this part speaks volumes...

"I don't think childhood should be a scrapbook filled
with more scriptures verses than scraped knees.
I didn't fall down enough."

It's amazing as much as we strive be independent, we crave our parents acceptance and love..

Brillantly done...

[Brjden (Bridge-Den) Cre..]

Incredibly talented! I enjoyed the dark, hidden humor along with your vulnerability! Very quaint and loud(redundant, I know), but I felt the rollercoaster of so many feeling and things, and that kept me reading! Very intelligent and entertaining write!

"See
I don't think childhood should be a scrapbook filled
with more scriptures verses than scraped knees.
I didn't fall down enough."

This part made me smile, but there were numerous moments that screams brilliance!
I'm glad that I'm introduced to your work in such a piece!

[Gandré]

Ohh brian - i really adore this one. Soo strong. I see what i missed. My metaphors are nothing against yours. What a perfect ending. I even feel neer to the content. Happy BD. I think, I called you the last one or the one 2 years ago. I ll read later when on PC. I m on bb and in hospital. But i m over the hill. Will read more. Y r master in building tension. Best,
L.

[just is]

Still,
my tongue turns earth;
labors to understand how
difference of belief
justifies a love kept
safely
six feet deep.

I so loved these lines here, You can write, I like this
I can feel what are saying as well.
I think it flows pretty well, besides is how we
feel and our emotion on paper.
So i think this is brillant and amazing.

[Emily B]

When I was a little girl I remember my mother crying every time my grandmother called. Now that I am grown, I understand those tears. I am not willing to endure that chaos. And so I avoid the phone.

I think heaven must be relationships without drama, without strings. Where people accept us for what we are. This is a stunning write.