http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage
**NEED SUBSCRIPTIONS, Rate, Comment, PLEASE ** WORDS & LINKS HERE:From an original poetic selection in his collected prose and verse entitled, A BIG BOOK OF MY OWN, Stanley Pacion reads how bad love had broken his heart. http://stanley.pacion.googlepages.com/homepage contains words/text for all poems, plus other images and poems. "When a child I played, entertained myself with crystal sets, later I became a ham radio operator. The fact that I now have an audience of several tens of thousands and growing, that this audience has become increasingly world-wide, and that it hears and sees me while I read my lyric and prose is nothing short of astounding. I love my YouTube!" For this POEM ....Original BLOG LISTING April 2, 2009.
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=ILL%2C+A+Two-Part+Diatribe%2C+Part+I
ILL, A Two-Part Diatribe, Part I
Ha! Arent you something!
Youre asking me to be your friend.
Forgive my lapse into the colloquial,
I lack another, another way to put it.
Where? Oh! Where do you get the nerve?
What unmitigated gall propels you?
You lack common decency, and
Pay no heed to norms of self respect!
Have you no concern for well being?
Want even slightest inclination, regard for truth?
What are you, how nasty, how you have hurt me!
I curse the day,
The day my dream of loves uplift turned to descent.
Have you no shame?
Pitiless you are! You know how much I love you,
I felt are souls were as one.
Remember your cruelty surfaced at the start.
That May Day, our first real Holiday together,
Remember, our first full day together,
After your return from the homeland,
After we had not seen each other for seven months,
Not having seen each other for seven months.
I wish I could sincerely say
That I am fine, that the pain inside subsides.
I wrote you all those letters,
So careful to oblige, put you at ease;
Had we not know each other for years?
I waited for you, honest and true, tried to make
Your homecoming right, worked my ass off,
I found an apartment, moved furniture and belongings,
Ran the business, wrote poetry.
You treated me like, well I must,
Here I must resort to vulgarity, the vulgar,
You treated me like shit,
Were I simply able to look straight into the mirror,
Claim for moment that all the effort was worth it.
Excuse me, if the verse here
Should stick its lingual ribbon right in your face!
You were skilled in your ways,
You started on the offensive.
Picky, picky, picky,
It must be a symptom, for it certainly
Points to the way you eat your meals,
Good God! At the end, there were two,
We were reduced to two restaurants,
By the end of it we had two places where,
We might have something to eat.
And you played your hand skillfully,
Practiced as you were in the art, prevarication,
Playing me on for months on end,
Lie after lie and I never caught on, then.
You were shameless, hustled me for vittles.
The happy days, where are they?
Those days were few and seem so hard to find,
Whatever happened to our love,
You did tell me you loved me, or am I dreaming,
Were you playing me, was I the fool?
You did ask I await your return?
I thought it might be real nice,
I wish I understood,
Wasnt it once so good?
Please, darling, please, might you notice
How much our affair revolved around food?
The eating of it and the gaining of weight,
I am still not over it, everything,
Your collecting recipes and filing them,
Assiduously clipped from cooking magazines,
To how you loved TVs The Biggest Loser,
You once said pointing to some porky contestant,
If I ever get like that, just shoot me.
I believe I said I would happily comply.
And the drama was strange, strange indeed,
Once you went through the garbage,
-- By habit I always double bagged it.
Then after your inspection, you complained,
You complained when you met me at work,
I had not cut the watermelon to the quick,
Too much fruit remained upon the rind.
Oh, my darling girl, sorry I displeased you,
Perhaps some day Ill mend my profligate ways.
Junkie, tramp, liar, what a creep!
Ill!
Plain, old, common, everyday nutriment,
Feeds always an issue.
I figure the reason you can not behave proper,
You can not swallow your pride,
You can not finish your dinner.
Some one once wrote perhaps John Dryden?
It was an historical figure nonetheless,
In noble minds some dregs remain,
Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain.
And when I objected, understand,
Had no desire to pick up every tab,
The extra super-market purchases
You were buying for your own room,
Nourishments you had no intention to share with me,
You pulled a fast one, tried a rationalization,
You bullshitted me about
How your father treats women,
Poem continues
http://stanleypacion.blogspot.com/search?q=ILL%2C+A+Two-Part+Diatribe%2C+Part+I
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BEAUTIFUL DEEP POEM
kevinakakofi1 2 years ago