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Constipated Love.

by laurafraser 

Posted: 01 June 2005
Word Count: 309
Summary: End needs changing will fiddle around later. x

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The girl took a deep breath and then screamed,
Thou art a shit! A fugitive of emotions!
A pied piper who played his lute to lure me out of safety
And now here I reside in this pit of puss and piss, piss and puss

She raged, as if mad and engaged
In something she could not quite control,
Thou art a shit! A fugitive of emotions!
A smile on your face, and with such eloquent grace, I love you
And now suddenly you don’t, pulled back, retracted, a terrified horse.
But of course, I must stand up and say sorry!
You don’t need to worry,
I got a little emotional,
Became a little un-social
The tears that came to my eyes
Were well-rehearsed
And no, were not my first.
So in that respect it was all just lies,
But still I say thou art a shit!

Later she would describe him as
A constipated shit that refuses to pass by,
As if wedged inside her
She feels his every move,
And despite the fact she’s pushing and squeezing,
Despite the fact she is in pain and she’s hurting,
Still she’ll eat the food that does this
So still, waddling slowly towards the loo, she must
What she has said,
Blame it on hashish or vodka
So the man thinks oh sod her.
But dear what about colonics I venture,
Wash everything out.
Feel strong as a sprout.
Hearing this the girl starts to shout,
How dare you suggest that I have a hand in this matter,
I have no power
she screamed,
Oh it’s all so obscene, she lamented,
So fragmented.
And then looking quite ashen
Like a geisha’s preferred fashion,
She walked out of the door
And like the children and the piper,
It seemed she had vanished,
never to scream, cry and wail any more.

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Comments by other Members

Cornelia at 10:43 on 01 June 2005  Report this post
I thought this was very powerful, and honest, and complicated. It hits one in the face like a wet fish, a very strong evocation of helplessness.


seanfarragher at 11:28 on 01 June 2005  Report this post
IT is a bowling ball of a poem. It roars with passion and delicate lines that are absolute pain. You screech and it is a poem. Anger can be wonderful poetry, and when you release the words you are more than a storm wrecking the landscape. You are a sculptor finding the frame of your next days, your next week. You are riding the frame of the clouds of your past into a future that was not conceived before you as a dream, or if imagined at all, as a nightmare. Yes, the poem will need smoothing BUT NOT THE PASSION..... looking for several ways to say the essence is the hallmark of a profound poem that began as wonderfully released anger. You are a marvelous poet. I found your gentle poems so in tune with my ear, and now i find this powerful retch from the guts a great hurricane with sheets of hard fact breaking down the walls of the past. You (or your persona) take back power from the other person. When we allow others to control, or allow them even equal power and our life, and they fail, or they show that betrayal is their greater of meager gift. And it is a gift, for it allows you to know them as someone who will now waste your time. All my best, Sean

laurafraser at 18:49 on 01 June 2005  Report this post
Sheila and Sean,

I'm so surprised! I thought that people would find this awful! So it was with utter relief that i read both of your comments. I think i found this poem increadibly immature and wasn't sure what people would make of hte imagery-not exactly pleasent but then heartbreak never is I suppose.You are both right there is helplessness, anger andpasion in this poem. i was angry when I wrote it, which is unusual for me as I think this is my only 'angry piece.'

Sean I agree it does need smoothing, i actually wrote it a couple of months ago but wanted to let it settle for a while and was surprised that I decided to post it, but seeing as time has passed and my feelings are now removed from it, i thought why not? and can now look at it far more objectively. it feels rather bizarre that i wrote it to be honest.

Thanks agaiin for both of your comments, very kind and most encouraging, I shall start tinkering immediately!


seanfarragher at 01:39 on 02 June 2005  Report this post
Laura, shit and crap and anger and rage, sex and death madness and agape are part of the world. THERE is nothing outside the realm of a poem. xxx

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