Satisfactory

A melancholy gift from me to you. I hope it is satisfactory

There is a satisfaction in nothingness

In the tears and ashes of the past, empty wishes, heart of sorrow

They never break

If there is nothing, to begin with

If I am nothing, then I am unbreakable, and nothing can steel this soul

I refuse to fight what can never make me bleed

 

I refuse to bleed when there is no need to fight

I am a shadow of a reflection of the shattered mirror

But I am not the shards, I am not the mirror

 

There is a satisfaction in this broken world

In the dust of a rumble ripped from the abyss of the earth

It leaves a cloud of rain, but it will never leave these lungs

If there is nothing but the remains of emptiness, condensation

If it is a voice, when I cry it will rain, and nothing can fight that judgement

I remain like the vapour of aether words burgled from the city

 

I refuse to hang strangled when the world falls, I will simply sink into the earth

I am primordial, I am the age of the passing summer sun

But I am not the cold night that follows, I am a new day repeating like a defibrillator

 

There is no satisfaction in heartbreak, a pulse is momentary

So I don’t have a cardiac, a rest, or a piece of me that ever wasn’t broken

In some ways, I don’t love, so hate is not particularly new

If there is nothing, to begin with

There isn’t an end to start with, no middle ground, no common enemy between us

I refuse what can never make me bleed

 

I refuse to beg for something I don’t need

I refuse to care for something that never was there for me

It’s selfish, but if you were never a part of society, isolated, you’re not a gear in that machine

 

There is a satisfaction is my lonesome charade, my masquerade

I can wear any mask I want

If I don’t have a face

If I smile rarely to begin with, how is it any different to suffer?

If my ripped skin wrapping paper lips could ever open to show my teeth

I suppose I’d be hungry

 

But I’m so busy eating my words, that swallowing the roach was never a problem

If I’m burning away like a cigarette, at least I smoulder enough to be bright for a minute

Before I’m stepped on

 

There is a satisfaction in not being satisfactory

There is purpose in being pushed away, I only ever pull away skin to see the muscle

If I don’t have a face

The world isn’t made for more than one king, diamonds aren’t plastic

I can just wear the broken pieces of bags that flow with the wind in the Walmart parking lot

I am free, empty, but weightless

Sometimes every punch that connects is just a near miss

Sometimes every shout is just silence

Before I’m stepped on

 

Sometimes the song goes on whether or not you’re singing

And there is no satisfaction without the lyrics

Anyone could be vocal if they had a voice

Every word said with a laugh will not always bring a smile

Sometimes those who smile are laughing

Sometimes when they smile I laugh too

 

Life is just too funny

If I am a cup, or bowl, or a plastic bag, or a pastel

I can still hold something close, and share my vision, even if I can’t paint blind words

 

Maybe the poem ended a long time ago

Maybe I am just the remnants of a show I was never there for

Maybe people are really just full of themselves, eating away at the truth

I’m hungry for something I can’t have

Yet I try to swallow the sun

And fight the manifestation of thunder, so I can hold a candle to this world

 

And show you where the light hasn’t reached, where only the shadow of death sits in this shade

Because that light is really just the emptiness of darkness, just a shadow of a reflection

Pretending to be bright black, discoloured by white pages of a dark emptiness

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[wordman]

sounds like life to me,we all feel it

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Yeah, I suppose we all feel this way at times.

[Onlyme]

Superbly beautiful expressed poem of entandres that really captures the essence of the human spirit and soul. Wrapped inside a nice tight buddle of imperfection, and nothingness eloquently detailed account. That really takes you deep inside the human psyche. Wow really enjoyed this a whole lot.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm happy you enjoyed it Dawn, means a lot to me.

[Malise Haligree]

Ooh, I like this one much better. Unjumbled vocabulary, beautiful imagery. I only have one tiny issue and it's just that "defibrilliator" was jarring and ruined my flow for me, but I saw afterword it was a nod to cardiac in a later line (you do love your entendres)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I had a lot of fun writing this poem. Sometimes, when I stop rhyming and focus on the imagery I get to have a little bit of a break, and feel refreshed. Yes, I couldn't help putting a nice double meaning in there. They're just so much fun! I'm glad to see you love interesting words, you taught me a new one, "entendres". This poem is another style I'm working on, it's less out there or strange compared with poems like Poisonous Silence. Someday, maybe I'll make a perfect hybrid of the two and have a great new style to share, until then though, these two styles are night and day. I need to find an in-between sometime so I can enjoy the sunrise.

[Malise Haligree]

I think a melding would be possible if you temper the complexity down a bit and pair it with the imagery. I have a poem called Malady of Mortality that tried to accomplish that.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'll check it out when I have the chance, and thanks for the helpful idea.