Saturday, April 1, 2023

Come down (song) ...




A hundred 
    thousand lonely
              men & women
     hold themselves       back
           looking for life commitment:
self-inflicting                  pain and torment;
don'tcha know                     a happy life's made
                          of a 
                               hundred-
                                     thousand-
                                              million 
                                           brief moments?...

Come do-own, my baby,
Underneath the table: just
kiss me in the morning and
call me      if you're able.

                                  Wanting passion,
                                           she swoons for brawlers;
                                Wanting brilliance,
                                                    this one settles for dollars.
                            Wanting connection,
                                                                he settles for handsome;
                     Wanting commitment,
                                                                          this one 
                                                                                takes a 
                                                                          hand for 
                                                                    ransom...

But rings mean nothing!
Come make a moment holy,
and it will last a lifetime, while
vows—are broken slowly.

Yours, ours, mine, - - - - all on a pin:
          that rushing tip of time - - - - 
                              - - - Childhood drawings and aching teen crushes,
              seem laughable now - - - - 
                             - - - Metals to rust and crystals to dust:
          we all buckle and bow - - - - 
                             - - - Growing, shedding; absorbing, forgetting—
                  I ate my old skin: - - - -
                            - - - Our joys live and die. Our joys live and die,
       at the moment we're in. - - - - 

(So Come do-own, my baby,
underneath the table...)

       Over-thinking,
      under-doing?
                                       Leads a virgin
                                           mind to ruin.
Overdoing,
 under-thinking?
                                     Can lead a fool to
                           wisdom in a blink—So

Come do-own, my baby,
underneath the table:
just kiss me in the morning and
call me     
                      if you're able.





                              When I say 'able,'
                   what I mean is
             there's no need to
lifetime-guarantee this:
A thousand years of
faithful service—
done as habit?
is still shallow, 
                cold, 
                 and 
             worthless.

Your word's as good
as the passion that it's based in.
Be with me, 
           fully, 
           here and now:         that is dedication.

                        - - - - love is not! 
                                              - - - - right/wrong! - - 
                       just profound! - - - -
                                                - - below the! 
                          - - scales, so! - - 
                                                 come down! - - - -

            Watch my fingers,
         as they feel your arm bend;
       touch my low back,
      as I breathe your cheek in;
       taste my lip's edge
         as I hear your throat hum:
            fill my senses
                as yours, 
                          too, 
                             overflow. 
                             Come—

Come doown, 
                       my baby,

                                  Our borderline's 

                                                  a fable.

Come feel 
   your heart 
        beat 
through 
my chest,
            underneath the table.

2 comments:

  1. Reading this poem, my eyes were initially drawn to the collage, because I couldn’t pinpoint what I was looking at. My brain kept picturing it as two abstract, grotesque, alien-like creatures appearing as mirror images to each other. After reading the poem, the pink and blue of the mirrored sketches represented the fundamentally different yet undeniable similarity between the way women and men suffer and feel like isolated creatures when it comes to love. I found this poem to be very relatable, at least in the aspect that it reflects the fundamental attitudes of people I have grown up with. People I know set high standards for themselves, and are always focused on some kind of end goal, not letting anything get in the way. In this instance, the poem discusses how people set incredibly high standards when it comes to love. They want to find the one, be satisfied and happy, and be done. They don’t appreciate the fact that all the other lovers they may encounter along the way will make up a conglomeration of moments too, and that the way to have a happy life is to have a collection of happy moments–even if they are fleeting. By streamlining the process of love, people will have a specific thing about a person they will seek out, in which doing so will cause them to ignore other crucial aspects of a person’s character. I particularly enjoyed the part where it discussed the transience of wedding vows. I loved how it was structured like a conversation between two people, emphasizing the idea of how both lovers yearn for the past, where they were more inexperienced and the world of love seemed mesmerizing and pure. One of the biggest conclusions the poem makes in my eyes is that one of the best kinds of love is love that has that forbidden kind of feeling, that focuses heavily on physical touch. This feeling is what sets people off in love, elevating their standards and mood to an extreme. This poem notes how they “come down” from that high.

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    Replies
    1. In my brain, the "come down" is an invitation.

      The table holds a scale on it: right/wrong; good enough/not good enough; give a chance/throwaway...

      And the speaker is begging this person (the world, really) to come down underneath the table and just experience! In that peaceful dark and intimate quiet, away from the judgmental weight and illusory static Truth of the scale ... invented by change-averse minds, in a world where everything is continuously crumbling and reforging.

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