Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Noel Negele- A Poem

It Doesn't Take Much

And as the awards were handed around
like emblems of egocentric masturbations
to all them stupid people
with those fancy hair
and their clear cut nails
And their white teeth

any man with that much of whiteness in the teeth
can’t be all that good

but then again who needs those awards
they should melt them down to something of use
a currency
loafs of bread
a blowjob maybe

and we both strolled around the town at night
the sound of our footsteps buried
under the sound of the rain
just like our glory
the one we thought we possessed
was buried, flattened by the years

strolling fairly drunk
but wanting more 


seeking in alleys for the postponement of the tragedy
trying to sustain something that cannot be sustained
we still thought 
happiness to be a lake in each man
rather than a river that flowed urgently 
but that was the first thing they took from us

and we decided 
amongst the thickheaded laughter
that we would declare war on them
just after that one last drink

and as we would stumble in search of a bar
or a whore house
or a drug dealer
or a fist fight
or a kind animal
anything at all

we almost stepped on a pile of shit

"Look" he said " look at this large pile of shit
that we almost stepped on."

I turned to look at him

"Look at this pile of shit!” he cried
“ we almost stepped on it but we didn’t.”

I stared at my friend
Looked at those shinny eyes in the dark
His smile drunk-wide and joyful

" How lucky are we?" he said

and that was it
that was enough
to make a man's eyes shine
like those of a predator before
embracing the life of a prey,

it was enough to make a man 
feel so undeniably lucky

so maybe there is hope
I thought
maybe we can still make it
maybe I can still make it

and just like that
we became something more than what we were seconds ago
we became lucky

until something in life
would come to reduce us
to something

Another Chapter Finished

We met for the last time
at her place                                                                                                                                                                                            
I told her that when mistakes pile up
it gets difficult to look at yourself
in the mirror,

she said I had become
the worst version of myself
and there was no way of passing that by

I said I didn’t hate her
I only valued her more than 
I should

and it wasn’t her fault
we are young I said
we make mistakes
we think we learn
and then we make the same mistakes
and then we hopefully truly learn.

It's all going to be alright
she said,
and I felt the hour of departure
nearing close
like a snake slithering to it's nest

Looking at her eyes
I felt the forever farewell
climbing up my throat

Her image would never leave me
or maybe it would
sometime in the future
but until then
her lips would be imprinted in my memory
like a photograph

her small hand
resting on my chest
" I can feel your heart"
she used to say,
"I can feel my heart against your hand"
I used to respond
irremediably romantic
because of her
numb and inactive on the bed
full with love
or what we once thought of it,

she would still sprawl on the center of my brain
fueling many memories to a continuous slide
that would most surely
make me feel like shit,
but even that suffering would be sweet
even that suffering would be better than nothing.

We said our goodbyes
her eyes glistening with tears
and I walked out in the rain
aching from a lonesome sentiment
that I knew
would last

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