rummaging through the dust bins I found this poem based on a dream, which I wrote almost 2 years ago. At the time the ending didn't fit or feel quite right.
Perhaps evidence that feelings like language or dreams are not static ? Yet there is something also eternal.
Almost two years later this ending feels more accurate/complete. Maybe that is as good as "it" gets?
Lie la Lie- Lie
it is a cold gray day and I can't get myself to face the world.
Whether it's mayhem in Paris or the perpetual
lack of sun this time of year.
I fall asleep reading an essay on evil. It was really quite "good"
( the essay) though I can't remember most of it.
I dream about neighborhood streets in Newcastle
or maybe it was New Jersey?
I've forgotten most of the dream but the last part.
I'm with my Mother in the garage singing,
reciting songs. One of them is Simon
and Garfunkel's, "The Boxer"
" I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told"
"In his anger and his shame,
I am leaving, I am leaving
but the fighter still remains
My therapist would encourage me to write words
I could remember or paint pictures of dreams.
I get up and go to the computer to find the words on the internet
that match the song my Mother and I were singing.
When I finally start playing the song on my stereo I'm reminded that
it was "Lie-la-lie" and not by the light -la light.
The words have less of an effect on me than the melody and harmonizing.
Naturally I start, " Lie-la-lie, by the lie, by lie-la-lie until I am in tears.
My Mother, a mess by any stretch of the imagination
would also love to sing and harmonize.
So it is as much about nothing as everything.
I'm still a poor boy.
Still at times angry as hell.
Still at times filled with shame,
"Lie la Lie- Lie"
Jeffery J. Rahn
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