Gasoline

Gasoline

A Poem by Muse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 







  We tried to fix up a home,
a two car garage, white picket fence, with a flower bed.
 
 Surely we could not have known,
our diminutive secrets carried by termites would spread.
An infestation grows within these walls like a dam under pressure.
 
 CONTORTING.......
 
((((Swelling))))
 
From all of our weight, and untimely measure.
 
Rusting pipes from my leaking tears.
 
There are no curtains to hang,
we're made vulnerable by these transparent shears.
The neighbors looking in,
wondering who is to blame.
                                       
Even with more primer and paint,
I cannot make these walls talk.
I cannot make you a Saint.
 
The ceiling is falling in...... 
This plaster is crumbling down.
 
So I will restore this home with gasoline,
and light a match to wipe the walls clean....

© 2014 Muse


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Featured Review

Can I go on an allusion tangent again, Muse?

The beginning reminded me a little of the song "No Surprises" by Radiohead. "Such a pretty house / and such a pretty garden....I'll take the quite life / a handshake of carbon monoxide..."

If you've ever heard the song, you know the sort of heady, balloony feel that the diminished sixth and seventh tones give it. Sort of like what happens when you inhale the vapors of gasoline.

P!nk also had a song about wanting to "burn this f****r down," if I recall, because it was full of bad memories. It was called "Funhouse."

I once wrote a short story called "My Name is High Hopes," written from the perspective of the famous Amityville murder house, in which the house explained that it IS cursed, because it's forced to watch its humans screw up their lives and make each other miserable, and then get blamed for it because it is a big, dumb, defenseless object, and cannot speak up for itself.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Beautiful work, a fine write!!!I have never known a home without leaky pipes or cracks in the walls...I pay no attention to such things caring only for the warm rays that shine in...nosey neighbors...we argue through our windows, then help shovel each other out during winter storms, spring is here summers coming...S'mores --I loves those, we must have many I wish to od on chocolate decadence--such sweets I Adore!!!
We can throw the glow n dark Frisbee around too ;)

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Muse

7 Years Ago

glow n the dark frisbee..lol oh yes of course!
This comment has been deleted by this poetry author.
The best lines in the poem for me nicely describe this disintegrating relationship - 'our diminutive secrets carried by termites' and 'Rusting pipes from my leaking tears'. The matter of fact tone plays well against what must be the feelings of pain, loss, anger, etc. It's difficult to know how the speaker feels, which makes for an unusual and interesting read.

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

incredible metaphor...house/relationship..

the paint is chipping the walls are falling down...infested with a bug that is destroying us..

people on the outside can see ...they see what is happening to us.


oooh i like this.

Posted 7 Years Ago


The purification and the only restoration of the loss. Complete desolation and then rebirth. Hard to know what to save sometimes. The fire is not careful or discriminate in what it destroys but it is complete.

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I give you a 100 for this one, can you burn my home too. LOL
anyways I like the burning expressed anger i felt in this poem.
Great Job!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i love it

Posted 7 Years Ago


A you poem. Very emotionally charged with fantastic expression. Love "rusting pipes from my leaking tears"! The house metaphors so well mirrot our understanding of relationships and expectations. A really good read.

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

" Surely we could not have known,
our diminutive secrets carried by termites would spread. " That's fantastic writing! I loved how you used diminutive in that way- great word. I adore the way you've written this, adding emphasis on particular words to put the poem into proportion, balancing will to overcome with need to escape. There are so many great lines here, I think i'd recite the poem in its entirety if I were to point them all out. However, I did REALLY like the way you worded this line, "There are no curtains to hang, we're made vulnerable by these transparent shears." And then the neighbors looking in, wondering who is to blame. Captivating and brilliant, peeling back the imagery to reveal a woman haunted in a pretty prison with her lover. Good job! 100/100

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Muse

7 Years Ago

Like your poem...this too came from pain. Pain of being overwhelmed by structural and spiritual dam.. read more
Hey, what you doing in my house? Surely there can't be two of them out there? Our oven also blew up a couple of weeks ago ( not a metaphor) just days after we finally got the boiler fixed. Oh the joys of home ownership. Gret way the housing troubles morphed into in-house troubles. Really enjoyed this one

Posted 7 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Muse

7 Years Ago

I bought a fixer upper...but some things cannot be repaired.

Thank you

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3283 Views
96 Reviews
Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on August 21, 2011
Last Updated on June 8, 2014
Tags: poem, poetry, home, gasoline, life, love, anger, fire

Author

Muse
Muse

IA



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