Madeleine Urban (bless her!) posted a most awesome poem about writing on reviewsbyjessewave.blogspot.com and although she claimed it was 'SOOOO EMO' me likey so much I had to join in the fun. I mean what the hell-- isn't it National Poetry Month, right?
The Dragon in My Blood
Bastard child of reading and dreaming and anger and angst,
Screaming for mind-milk, shrieking for me to change his shit
At the worst possible moments.
I'll feed you in a moment, the dragon is calling,
Your diaper can wait, the dragon is calling
I'll pick up the trash on the floor when the dragon stops calling
Water is backing up, flooding my ankles, don't step in it
Don't worry about it you can wear dirty clothes and clean
The house yourselves, choke through the dust do your own
damned laundry because Christ, can't you hear the dragon calling?
He's screaming my name, his filthy claws are ripping the flesh around my heart
His teeth are gnawing at my throat and my voice is harsh with his roars
The best parts of me, the humor, the wit, the lovely spring days
Consumed by his hunger for me, his unyielding demand for my soul.
Can't you hear him can't you see him can't you feel him
are you up to your ears yet in his synasthaetic stench?
JESUS, YOU FUCKER WOULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?
I'm sobbing I'm angry I haven't pissed in all day...
But it's no use.
I can beat his ugly snout with a 4x4 until we're both
bloody and splintered, but he's there, he's howling,
Gouging chunks of my liver and spleen like a crow on steroids
Until we vomit my life force on the page.
Even then, when he retreats to the cave between ventricles,
He's not still in rest. He lays dreaming, grumbling,
Urging me to fix this, re-forge that, continue to twist
The DNA of the terrible egg he wants planted in your brains.
Come read me, come dream me--doesn't that sound fun?
Don't you want a dragon of your own?
6 comments:
I think I have enough excitement in my life without the whole dragon thing.
Great poem though - that explains a lot :-)
uh.....wow
I can't agree more. The only thing you forgot is that it keeps you up all night torturing you dreams with new plots, characters and all the wonderful things they have been doing while you waste time sleeping!
Great poem!
(the elf)
No dragons in my menagerie, but the off odd occasional persistent monkey . . .
Excellent, horribly uncomfortable poem.
Uhm, no thank you. I don't think I could stand having my spleen ripped out to satisfy a dragon.
Gee. That doesn't sound familiar at all...
*Looks innocent* GREAT description of what a writer's life looks like from the inside!
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