I AM MONSTER

I remember you falling face down

on the ground

busted lips

bitten tongue

I remember you falling backwards

head impacting into wall

A bottle of wine for breakfast

I remember the trip to A and E

Christmas day

for more of the same

I remember the crash/the sound

of you trying to hoover

pissed

I remember the look in your 

work mates eye

swollen black bruise from mantle piece

I remember your sisters caustic tongue

"she's getting abused"

I remember the man to man chat

with your father, and looked him

in the eye

I remember every drunken abusive

rant/arguement

sip by f*****g sip

Every wasted weekend

ruined holiday

I remember cleaning up piss and puke

like some unwanted, unpaid care worker

I remember the fun and the joy and

the love we used to share

I remember every f*****g thing

because I was sober at the time

and you were not there

Reviews

[Eilis]

I read this book once where the entire family for generations was impacted by the need to live up the impossible standard. The entire novel was driven by the daughter trying to understand her dead father’s need to reach something unreachable. She was mysteriously ill—on the point of death—and reading his entire library to try to find him. He was a poet, but could never impress himself enough so instead farmed potatoes and withered away bit by bit.

I have spent most of my life in a similar state, I think. Trying to be a person that is not possible on this earth, but having had certain things impressed upon me by people who reared me, I nevertheless felt if I worked hard enough I could become the thing. The glowing, beautiful saint.

Your poem is something I understand. For a few reasons. But, I found the title to be the thing that drew me in most clearly because I understood it on a daily level. But, it is not for the child to take the monster in and assume the role. The monster is the monster and that cannot be transferred. The child is the innocence corrupted.

Or even if it’s not a child. What others do, the guilt is not transferable. It is for the individual to face. I try to save people. People who have and continue to hurt me. It’s an impulse. I sort of felt that while reading this. Which perhaps explains why I’m saying a lot I probably ought not to say in this review. But, art is about recognition so often. To do it justice, I feel like we have to speak back.

This is a poignant poem, Gram. I appreciate the opportunity to read it, and perhaps see myself looking back. And also see, experience isn’t exactly a solitary thing.

[gram linski]

Thanks, Eilis, this means a lot to me I am simple farmer poet withering away, bit by bit, fading, ading ading, you must have a huge heart trying to help those who have caused you pain, those damn Christians should take note

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

Interesting and grim. So you didn't abuse her, it was alcohol abuse right? You express and relate the incident so poetically in a dark words muse. Kudos for this strong poem.

Pls pleez do review/ comment/ write your thoughts on my newest poem too.

[gram linski]

thanks, S, aye it is about alcohol abuse, and every one thought I was the monster, turns out it was that prick, Merlot