Thread: Notice Me

A fairly recent one, and a very different style from my usual writes, but I'll post it anyway.

Notice Me

There is a corner, where the wind
does not scream and everyone is blue
from holding their breath. I see them there,
I am there. Bold print.
Newspapers at my feet. It's only the wind
that does not scream. And me.
Quiet. All black and white anyway.
The worst part of me is exhaled.
I threw it between a parking meter and the sidewalk,
but time is never up. I can always come back
and swallow me whole again.
A sinner again,
in or on the corner.

When the people are there, I bust,
my stuffing seeping out, out of all my stitches.
All my scabs are cracking.
Blue people. Oozing sores. They can have my whole body.
They can have all the spiders that live in my veins,
making webs, breaking blood.
I feel uneven. I am okay. I am,
okay?
Something about blue people
makes me tattoo smiles on the corner
with my tongue, makes the spiders bite.
I don't want to be angry. Quietly, I don't want it.

Should offer them my hand just to start.
Maybe next time, if they are not sleeping
in rows around me--waves that are dead.
Waves that don't move.
Maybe I'll sleep among them if they do.
Let the ripped flesh mold and lace,
cover myself with newspapers.
Healing, invisible.

I want the wind
to scream right in my mouth,
let it bubble, let it put holes in my lips,
Then I will be open, and it can reverberate.
The people will see
when the only voice is me.

Maybe I won't care
if I just hold my breath

This portrait of the "I" is chilling! You've done a spectacular job of getting to the core the burdened, haunted soul.

Newspapers at my feet....And me.
Quiet. All black and white anyway

I like this connection. You, news, in black and white print. But I might be reading too much into it.

The worst part of me is exhaled.

Succinct and brilliant!

my stuffing seeping out, out of all my stitches.

The alliteration. I don't care for them when the same sounding are all grouped together. I like this placement and the repeating of "out". It adds to your point.

They can have all the spiders that live in my veins,
making webs, breaking blood

I'm trying to imagine webs breaking blood. I think this imagery needs to be re-worked.

Let the ripped flesh mold and lace,
cover me with newspapers.

Again, I think a re-work is in order. "ripped flesh....cover me with newspapers" I think the onomonopeia is a bit too far out. I can't come up with a suggestion right now. I just think that ripped flesh can do just so much.

I want the wind
to scream right in my mouth

Now this is an onomonopeia that really works! Just excellent.

everyone is blue
from holding their breath.

Maybe I won't care
if I just hold my breath

I like the relationship. The first stanza to the close. I do wonder if blue is a stretched meaning. Meaning sad?

Angel, this was a powerful, dark read. You know how I appreciate exploring the human mind. You've done THE job! Laurie

Thanks for the response. Good suggestions! I've been picking my brain about what to do with this one. Perhaps some reworking of some of those lines will do the trick.

Edit: Oh, and the "blue people" metaphor actually goes a bit deeper. Well, practically everything here is a metaphor--the corner, the blue people, the wind, the newpapers, the spiders, etc. This is a more direct piece, but I can't live without my layered metaphors! Ha, ha.

Angel. Multiple Metaphors. Now, that's interesting! I had the idea that wind was a metaphor for life.

There is a corner, where the wind
does not scream and everyone is blue
from holding their breath

Wind/Life is faint.(no longer screams) Like cutting off oxegen. People's faces are turning blue as they die, deprived of oxegen. Ready to die: holding their breath, waiting for death. Am I being satisfactorily morbid? I hope so!

I want the wind
to scream right in my mouth,
let it bubble, let it put holes in my lips,
Then I will be open, and it can reverberate.

The aliveness of life.


I'm probably way off the mark but the great and fun thing about Free Verse, abstracted, is that it's all open for interpretation. It gives the imagination a good work out. A good stretch for the brain.

Now, you have me so curious about your other metaphors. My forte is imagery but have been wanting to experiment with the metaphorical.
I just have a handful of them in my work and I think very average. Too apparent. If you will, I would love to hear your meanings. Maybe, I can learn something and the rest of the crowd. Fascinating! And about your imagery. I think I failed to mention that it was captivating. Laurie

powerful

The people will see
when the only voice is me.

Could you explain the significance of the newspaper?

Sure. I can explain them.

This piece has a lot to do with conformity. The "blue people" represent death in a way. The death of individuality when you conform. (The common act between them being that they are all holding their breath.) And so the speaker here doesn't want to be like these blue people. The corner is representing the confinement of our world if we are all the same.

And as noted above, the wind is like life. Being alive as an individual. The newspapers really have two meanings in them. The first is that, they are, in a way, saying: "This is how you're supposed to be." And so the speaker goes on to say "the worst part of me is exhaled." This part of her is the part that society is telling her it's bad to have. But she's reluctant to give it up because she doesn't really want to be like everyone else. (As is made apparent in the second stanza.) She feels like she is losing herself (becoming uneven).

The spiders are like every little thing she is supposed to have, according to society. So they are breaking her apart. The second part to the newspapers is this "shield" she has created. While everyone else is "dead" (because they've all conformed) she is shielding herself so she appears like they want her, but she is internally taking time to find herself again.

And so then when she starts with "I want the wind to scream right in my mouth," she is saying that she wants to be a living, breathing individual. And that maybe when she is standing out from the crowd, others will realize that there's nothing wrong with being different.

But then comes the ending, where she is hesitating, because it's always easier to do what everyone else is doing.

Hopefully that cleared things up for everyone!

Thank you! Your mind works in marvelous ways...

Should offer them my hand just to start.

Maybe next time, if they are not sleeping
in rows around me--waves that are dead.
Waves that don't move.
Maybe I'll sleep among them if they do.
Let the ripped flesh mold and lace,
cover myself with newspapers.
Healing, invisible.

This image, I really liked, very unique.

Okay, I already knows what's going on because of your explanation, but I am proud to say, very proud, actually, that I mostly got it without your explanation. Only thing that confused me was the spiders. In any case, I love this, I'd rather be a black splotch in a sea of blue any day. I love the entire first stanza, especially the cleverness of the final two lines and the concept of reswallowing the vomit to become whole again. I loved that you took the breath holding full circle, wonderful completion, as well as the references to exhalation mid piece. Your imagery is gruesome, the better to thrill me with my dear, and there far too many great lines for me to cite, I'd ending up quoting most of the piece. I have to echo Cindy regarding that stanza, I agree, very original, and original just so damn hard these days. You are a very welcome addition to these boards and I humbly request you stick around.

Best,
Lisa