My blood.

May 2, 2009 at 5:23 am 1 comment


U2 frontman Bono once said: “My definition of art started with: you put your hands under your skin, you break your breastbone, you rip open your ribcage. If you really want to write, that’s what you ought to do. Are you ready to do that? Or is rock ‘n’ roll for you just a pair of shoes and a haircut, or a certain sour existentialism or a certain sweet decay? That is one of my first definitions of art. Blood.”

This is my blood.

My intentions when I wrote this poem where to echo my current thoughts in certain post-modernistic thinking. I did this in two ways. Firstly, following the belief that everything that is created has already been created before, I used either a line from another poem, another song or another work of art for each individual line. I also tried to allow the cyclical nature of the subject matter of the poem to further echo this sentiment. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


A Love Song for a Saviour

Tarnished with things unseen

I’m taking the blame

Since the words to comfort

Suddenly rebel at questioning.

Longest I’ve been impermanent

Unsettled and unkind

Shuffle to grace

Summon my demons

Just to push them away…

Falling silent

To stumble…

Grapple with heaven’s mercies

Simple and stained

Searching remains to find you again.

Love’s soft breath strokes the cheek

In time to find…

Resolved, I am to love you

With whatever means are mine.

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Entry filed under: Uncategorized. Tags: , , , .

Words that may not fit sometimes do. Intimacy and lack thereof

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. ScoMan  |  May 2, 2009 at 5:41 am

    I think this is a fantastic idea, and it came together really well.

    Reply

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