Jiminy Cricket was the subconscious of Pinocchio
Hang with me fine friends, I’ve fallen to my knees and am battering the soil with my fists trying to find my way out of this writing fog. Creativity damn you. If creativity were to be personified, she’d be a floosie with no sailor making advances on her so she sulks with her pouty red lips. Moving on… View table of contents...
Submitted: Aug 7, 2008
Reads: 80
Comments: 17
Likes: 9
Jiminy Cricket stridulates as
my hand strums your Buddha.
Life is scorching. Sound is
sovereign.
Held in my webbed world
a torrent of cocoons solely
share my sentiment. Pattern is
principal.
Jiminy Cricket radiate the Red Light Lamp! In sepia strength the sphere shone. Mesmeric is monarch.
Making love steer my body and your stink dilutes my wrists. Scared
to rinse the scent. Fear is
fanatic.
like fireflies at dusk, they blush. Beauty. Beauty, and falling into finery.
graffiti on the train, rails away. Graffiti. It read, aKiwiFromMadeira.
Nice!
Sound is sovereign. yes indeed...it breaks me out of self-consciousness.plus, I just saw Coheed and Cambria tonight, and I'm deaf.
'like fireflies at dusk, they blush. Beauty.' -wonderful line..I don't see them anymore, since I moved to FL. I miss those things. We have luvbugs in FL, which are born, have sex and die, all in the course of a day I suppose. That's not so bad, but lightning bugs/fireflies are so cool.....
Awesome poem, of course, Peach
I'm happy to read your beauties
Posted: Aug 7, 2008
Author Comment:
My writing is so weak these last couple weeks. I think the fireflies are so bright in my mind right now because my spirit is moving from water to fire. Or, i don't know. Shifting happening.
btw...you're absolutely not allowed to complain when you live in FL. So there.
Thanks for the encouraging comments Rodney. I appreciate!
*runs off to google Coheed & Cambria*
I'd say you slashed through the fog -- Peach slices with a tongue finer than frenetic. Probably costs a lot, but why else write ... (p.s., not sure the last stanza is tempered enough.)
Posted: Aug 8, 2008
Author Comment:
i should call this peach fog poetry. it's foggy. not clear enough to provide a slash on your skin. you're right, costs a lot.
sigh.
Thank You So Much Q. Glad to see you back more often.
Peach, you know what, I had to read this poem several times to understand it (even now I'm not sure if I've got it, or if I'm even close). The first time I read, I was like, 'Duh? I give up..' But I knew Katie would be sorely disappointed, so I decided to give it at least a try. Here goes...
I think the first stanza is very important, because it sets the tone of the poem. I get a feeling that you are trying to represent the deep, inner consciousness by the word 'Buddha'. So when you say that your hand strums someone's Buddha, it is as if you are trying to awaken someone's inner consciousness. Now, who is this someone? I think you are talking about your own subconscious, because the poem sounds introspective. And so Jiminy Cricket stridulates as you try to awaken your subconsious. Jiminy Cricket, being the subconscious of Pinocchio, could either mean thinking of lies, which, I don't think, is what you mean; you, instead, seem to be referring to the deep longing to be human, which was actually the innermost desire of Pinocchio. So basically the poem starts off saying that as you probe your subconscious, you realize that you long to be human again. A difficult prospect when life is scorching and sound is sovereign. One needs peace.
The second stanza talks of being isolated and trapped in monotony.
I am not very sure of the third stanza, but I think it talks about trying to reawaken the sexual desires. This seems to work after drinking from the well of past memories.
In the fourth stanza, the desire is awakened, but it is mixed with fear, because one has been looking back too much. There is a fear, probably because one is aware of the risk of looking back for too long and invoking the ghosts, and on the other hand, of avoiding to look back and losing the rejuvenated sense of life.
There is a spark of life as there is an ecstatic memory, almost merging into reality, of having danced the frenzied dance of love and loving, and of falling into a spent exhaustion, and falling apart.
The last lines seem to talk about loss and acceptance of it. You will have to explain to me what you meant by a Kiwi from Madeira.
Now I'm waiting to see what interesting interpretations others come up with. I think I have gone off at a tangent frequently in this, and I would love to know your real meaning.
Posted: Aug 8, 2008
Author Comment:
Urja, you know what, I'm not even sure what the heck is going on with this one.
In a way it's very literal. There is a certain person in life, who when I sleep (as in actuall sleep), I rub his belly to fall asleep and end up sleeping like an angel. that doesn't happen too often (thus...buddha belly..literally)(Jiminy being my subconscious).
he does delve deep into my sub conscious, and is alot of inspiration behind my writing. When i am with him, my senses are incredibly in tune with sounds, lights, every little thing that is going on around us. Red Light Lamp, bring on the seduction. He makes me think, alot. He helps me heal old wounds.
When i leave him, i never want to wash my wrists, as his scent lingers on my inner arms....for fear of never smelling it again. Am i being irrational thinking that or having that fear of never again? you bet.
My life with him is very different than my life when we are not together. Much of what you've said is very correct.
We were driving the other day and a train blocked our road. The grafitti on trains here in Canada is beautiful and breathtaking. The caboose had A Kiwi From Madiera on it. The colours of it were just amazing with the atmosphere and it is a moment in life that i'll never forget.
Ok. Urja, YOU ROCK. Thank you so much for all your time with me. I adore you. I don't think I've explained everything, but my mind is, as featured in this poetry, in a fog lately.
I won't even try to decipher this beauty ...For me, this one comes with this simple message of being 'lost', being 'selfless' and in search of something which is right there with all of us.....within us, wherever YOU are...
All YOU have to do is to embrace LIFE with all YOUR HEART AND SOUL...and also to NEVER NEVER STOP BELIEVING that WHAT U BELIEVE IS THERE...THE DREAM IS TRUE FOR YOU SINCE U REALLY BELIEVE IN THIS >>>>
WHY BOTHER ABOUT ANY OTHER INTERPRETATION WHEN WHAT U HAVE WRITTEN IS TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH....AND WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?? OF COURSE TO BELIEVE AND CHEER....
I BElieve you PEACHY....I am sure all of us who read this one, did....
Posted: Aug 8, 2008
Author Comment:
gah. i think you just made me weep a little bit. i see exactly what you are telling me P.
Okay, don't laugh. and dont ask me why, but I especially love the last line. It's not the most poetic or smooth line in the poem, but for me it brings the poem down to earth~if that makes any sence~
'It read, a Kiwi From Maderia'
For me this line just, well, I can see it~ and it pulls the other parts of the poem together. I love that line;)
I can see it on that train as it rails away~ to some other place. I just love it;)
Good job Peach,
~rain
Posted: Aug 9, 2008
Author Comment:
I think I love that last line too....I thought it so fitting to be on a train that was leaving. To some other place, took a little piece of me with it. Let's think about it...a kiwi could be me. a unique conception that keeps on a train that keeps moving ahead of me.
graffiti on the train, rails away. Graffiti
It read, aKiwiFromMaderia.
I don't know, I think this could be a poem in its self Peach, I'm reading so much into it. It's a train going somewhere exotic and Maderia sounds good to me;) Trains going to far away places~ where the people eat Kiwi's obviously, from Maderia. I don't know, I just had to express that again~ I might be back. So beautifully abstract~ rain
Posted: Aug 9, 2008
Author Comment:
I love graffiti. It's like the artists escapism into another land, literally too when it's splayed on a train that goes everywhere.
On a dark black rusted train car, was bright green and blooming graffiti that sat beautifully.
Rain, thank you so much. Your commentary is always wonderful and looked forward to.
ok, I still can't believe i didn't see this, I check the new listings, i've been to your page, How, How could this be??????? WHY WHY WHY oh God Why,,,LOL
haahah ok lets see,,,,
yes I like Urjas interp, well I liked the second para the best about the cocoons, it made me think of pockets of inspiration needing certain patterns to be able to hatch open.. cool!
in the third it is as if the red lamp represented both sexuality and creativity or sensual creativity.
the monarch is kinda like something bloomed and although in the third it is not inspiration, it is more or less just sexual desires and so 'making love steer my body' and then the fear of losing even that.
hmmmm, the last lines yes...confusing..
seems as though beauty did show through after all and falling into finery could very well represent the patterns...AH! ureka LOL haahah ya I know, you don't even know but I feel good :D then the train could represent inspiration on the move.....hmmmm
oh well
now seriously Why God Why LOLOLOL
Posted: Aug 10, 2008
Author Comment:
This is certainly not my fav writing Katie. I just can't express properly what I've wanted to.
I like your thoughts on patterns, I was trying to portray my emotions like the cocoons, all ravelled up and tight trying to breathe.
Wow Peach, this is unique and so well done. I don't think I have read something quite like this and for that alone it is awesome. Also, I really liked how you ended your first 4 stanzas (3 word sentences) and how they added to the tone. Amazing Peach, absolutely amazing.
You want convincing. What you really want is more words like visceral.
Rubbing the belly of a buddha has nothing to do with streams of belief, obviously and everything to do with a moment of making love. what is there, what is around, the experience clattered through the senses. Seen, smelled and felt. The obscure graffitti, the scent of sex on your wrists. Hints and layers of what happened this one time as the mind collected sensation and catagorised it into pleasure and otherwise mundane.As Paul Cezanne said 'One minute in the life of the world is going by, paint it as it is'.
By the way the only way to learn how to draw is by looking.
I just noticed I switched the letters around lol. in the name Madeira, making it instead Maderia. Appologies* I try to make a point of it to use exact lettering if I'm going to quote when I read~ for some reason my eyes wanted it spelled otherwise*
Just came back to visit one of my fav recent poems* sigh, that I were on that train...laying back on a mountain of
'-KiwieFromMadeira'
I just skip to those last lines when I read this poem now, they take my breath away...with them.
I know, I know I've been slow to comment on this one. Reason being I always struggle with your erotic, floral depths. I love the way this one reads (except the word stink, very in my face) But the ending, the ending captures me and stays with me. It is so very real, yet you make it sound surreal. It is like a horn honking in the distance in a sea of fog. It is the way I feel sometimes about life, it is so real and sad and vibrant all at the same time that I can't capture it in words. I want to, want to but like your train it "rails away"
as always Peachy I am in awe. Keep writing, because your writing has a unique feel always.
Posted: Aug 12, 2008
Author Comment:
Thank you so much Anna Therese. I always look especially forward to your commenting, regardless of time frame.
I laughed like crazy at your exception to Stink. That's why I like ya, honesty is a trait that I adore.
Clive James said to me once that a poem is a song that doesn't need the music because the music is already there. Music seems to always be there in whatever you write, Peach. Keep it coming!
Posted: Aug 27, 2008
Author Comment:
weak Richard! This one is weak! I couldn't portray exactly what I wanted. Sobbing.
Your words are undeniably encouraging and thank you so very much.
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