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John Schwartz Poetry

Month: July 2020

“Puzzle Poem” #3: Every Memory Desires Rescue

(See two posts prior for the intro.)

Also sorry for the funky format, but the only way I can get the spacing to actually do what I want is to use this ‘verse’ format. But now Mr. Enneagram One/Business Education major wants to go back and change all my posts to this format for uniformity haha. In fact, knowing me (and I do relatively well–quite a few years of acquaintance now), I probably will fairly soon. In fact, I really want to do it right now hahaha….

EVERY MEMORY DESIRES RESCUE
I sit
A shifty-eyed bandit before the interviewer
And the echoes fill my mind
     angry voices
     constant verdicts
     consuming laryngitis by day and by night
     one stuttering dance after another

I say
     Sir I’m sorry
     I feel rather dodgy
     But I feel like you asked me to do this?

He says
     Yes
     For now
     My face’d kill you
     But watching my hands’ll get you ready
          I’ve got some work to do

I say
     OK
     What sort of work exactly

And he says
     Well I do it all
     But today it’s electrical

“Puzzle Poem” #2: Eustress (Good Fretting)

(See previous post for the intro and concept. This one is also playfully dramatic like KK but has a more meaningful point; at least I think so.)

EUSTRESS (GOOD FRETTING)
I was just sitting there
Unremarkably minding my own business
Hidden away
Curled up
Quiet and cozy
And then some lunatic ripped my home open
Grabbed me
Shackled my feet
Tied my hands to a peg
And stretched
And pulled
And tightened

What is this torture
This pressure
Taut
Exposed
Trapped
Much more tension and I’ll snap in two
Get your hands off me
And that pointed pick
And … wait
What’s that sound?

“Puzzle Poems” Intro and #1: KK

One of the many many things I enjoy about writing poetry is hiding stuff in them. Allusions to the Bible, stuff God’s shown me, word plays, etymologies, random references to events when I was a kid, stuff I’ve been thinking about, etc… weaving stuff in (or packing as the case may be, poems vary widely in how straightforward or obscure they are). It’s sorta like each poem has a key and I’m the only one that holds it (sometimes the key gets lost in my own pocket haha, when I look back at a poem I wrote and can’t at first remember what I myself was referring to or thinking of). Naming the poems is a part I also really enjoy, one of the chief reasons being that often is a way to give clues or pointers. And then it’s fun and honoring when people have an energy to try to figure it out themselves. I’m always kinda amazed at that, actually, because truth be told I don’t read much poetry myself (except song lyrics) and feel pretty darn inept at doing it. (There’s also the situation when people see stuff that I didn’t have in mind at all, or even had something in mind that is pretty different … that’s been an interesting/fun/weird area … but that’s a subject for a later time.)

Anyway… I wrote a few poems (two in January, one in April) that ended up being sorta riddle or puzzle poems … more than just hiding stuff, these actually are more like an invitation to figure out what they’re about. They have some meaning on the poem level, but it’s only when you figure out what they’re about that they can then help inform that very level. Well, two of them. One of them (the one below) I got pretty goofy/dramatic with and was mostly writing for fun–the juxtaposition between the tone and the actual subject matter made me laugh out loud.

So here’s the first one!

KK
I was born into bondage
Shoved and pounded from earliest recall
Until I came of age

Then came the day
That gruesome day
When they took the blade to my core
And everyone around me
     Everyone who made it that is
     Those who fell were cast away
Then the ride
Through agonizing undulations of southern heat
And down the ramp to hell

I’ll never forget the sizzle of cooking flesh
My flesh
My shred of relief at a side untouched
Itself shredded in a moment’s flip
An unbearable loop of pain
My crisp body unfeeling
Unrecognizable
Marched to the deluge
Choking my body
Drowning my voice
As the bystanders leered
     (the monsters even brought their children)
Then falling motionless
On wicked steel grates
Where tormentors with sticks
     and dispassionate eyes
Shoved us like cattle in boxes
     The livers that is
     Again
     Those who crumpled were swept away

Who am I?
Can anyone deliver?
What have I done to deserve this?
When will it end
And how?
The truth’s as dark as my countenance
Some dream of freedom
But all I hear are further terrors
Rumors of naked display
And sale like commodities
To ravenous giants who paw and drool
The dawning horror
Bred and raised to be consumed

Why, God, why?
Kan you hear my kry?

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