Skip to main content

B is for Phone (rough)

not really one or the other. actually written on phone as with most of my work [ad wise or not] then transferred to paper.

i shouldn't have taken that call...

do you remember that sunday?
the one when we were young and all we craved were each other?
when we thought we were gods?
i don't no about you but i wanted to have heroes with you.
a whole pantheon
pre.... conceived... ideas wrapped in a kiss
held together by two arms that loved you.
you remember that sunday?
cause... i do.
and i think to myself, i should not have answered that phone.

months go by.
conversations become constricted.
tit plays on tat and i could see us becoming....
human.
i fought against it
i hoped against it
but every time we finished this crackle
i think to myself, i should not have answered the phone.

hello? (voice triggers memory betraying resolve)
i... put all this aside.
i think... "one day we could get back to the god hood"
but the past seemed too heavy for us.

i should change my number
to 5 or 7 or 3

i hear a ringing in my head.
don't...
will not pick up.
i really should not answer that phone.
should i?

the person you're trying to reach had a
voice
male
mine
*click*
i'm still hung up on you

© tracy j h 2009

Comments

  1. KaiyahSeptember 2, 2009 at 12:59 PM

    somethign about this tugging at my heart strings and making me want to cry...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

B in Future Traditions

THE COPY: I was sitting down listening to Norah Jones’ “Come Away with Me” and I began to think about future traditions. I thought… I want to sway with someone. Sway with my lover. To this music. More than that, I want that when we had an argument (and we’d have those because she’d be stubborn and I’d be pig headed (iChuckle)) we would never go to bed angry. We’d pop open a lover’s CD like this one and just sway. We may be as mad as hell but we would sway because we would never want to go to bed angry. And our children would know this. And they would never allow their partners to go to bed angry either because… well, because they would know better. They would sway. They would know it was better to sway. That’s the kind of man I want to be. Moreover, that’s the kind of tradition I’d like to pass on. Future Traditions. What's Yours?
4 comments
Read more

B is for The League of Extraordinary Cutlasses

So Facebook is mourning. Why? A child was snuffed out. How does modern man respond? By blacking out their profile picture. So Facebook is mourning. Why? Crime has reached intolerable levels for the people of a twin island republic. How does civilized, contemporary society respond? By copying and pasting stern status updates. WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS! SEND A STRONG MESSAGE! COPY AND PASTE THIS ON YOUR STATUS IF YOU WANT A CHANGE! Not denying that social media has its power. After all, just yesterday I read of a man who – in honor of Facebook’s role in the Egyptian Revolution – named his first child, Facebook. We do not deny that Youtube and the Twitter was a beacon for Tehran, but do note, these social media enterprises merely acted as a catapult for an already serious war on injustice. My people however… are not that serious. Thus I have decided on a far more satisfying approach. Ladies and Wilderbeasts, I give you, The League of Extraordinary Cutlasses. An organization geared towards ...
2 comments
Read more

B is for The Etch-A-Sketch

I’ve always thought of the Universe as a big, big mouth. And when you make a statement, it opens wide to receive it. It (the universe) rolls it in its mouth and then spews it back out in a more interesting form. Say for example, me. I said once, I want to try/experience everything at least once. And through a series of [un] fortunate events, I have experienced some real heights. I said… I want to do everything. this brought on a wonderful debate with a friend of mine who explained to me in all honesty that iCan’t do everything. Enter John Locke’s voice screaming to the world – “don’t tell me what I can and cannot do!” But he was right though. My dear friend, not John Locke. Maybe. I can’t do everything. Except I probably could. Of course when given the opportunity to try my hands and attempting the everything, I feel my tongue lean back into my oesaphagus, and slowly gallop tactlessly down my arse. Yes… I am aware of how that sounds. I’ve performed poetry at various locations. I’ve pub...
1 comment
Read more