Who the Fuck are you?
So who the fuck are you
To decide anything in my life,
Tell me what I need to know
Or what I don’t need
Who the fuck are you
When all the trust we had you’ve
Squandered like some slot-machine junkie bleeds
Quarters in Vegas,
Who the fuck are you to tell me I should be your friend, when you’re
No friend of mine
But surround yourself with simpering and
Mirrors and those
little hotel-soaps and sachets
And Chanel the wrong fucking number
Who the fuck are you to tell me what I can or cannot do, for a song I’d
Bleed you dry and turn you back into some small-time Jesus
Sobbing for the world on some
Soap-box in the park,
Move on move on they’d say to you, I say to you,
I don’t want you any more and I say it without apology,
Without defending my decision or any more bullshit words of love
Unsupported by action
Hanging like a stench in the sweet air.
Cos Brother, once lover you owe me big-time
Owe me more than your whole fucking life
for the time I’ve wasted
on you.
And when the time comes for you to pay the debt
That you owe me, owe, will always owe me more than your cowardly
Arrogant and patronising sliver of a life is worth,
More than the sun owes God for its titanic, burning existence
devouring time
and gravity
When that time comes and again you are full of fear
You’ll see
What it means
To stand alone.
And here’s to all those poets
Who only need cancer to start feeling
The loss of life, that final blow-job, swelling their last months
into poems and at last
Seeing the preciousness of being alive and
Every blessed breath
Here’s to the end of your shrunken lives
Where you have lived all right,
Thinking of no-one
Hurting and wasting and crushing those who cared for you and about you
Breaking promises and faith and giving nothing at all for others’ feelings or time
or dreams
And living off the sweat and efforts of others your betters and lovers
And their time and labours and the fruits of their time and labours,
and you
Eating off the floor like dogs and caring only for coupling
Like dogs
And licking your balls
If you had them
Now the cancer eats at your insides.
And now you realise
There’s a world out there
How much it needed you
Your strength your effort your time your energy your love your commitment to
Anything beyond your sad little drunken self
And all you did with all those years was live
Like a dog
Unaware
Like dogs
And howling like you are now
About your lost loves and years and how much you felt it all
Won’t bring a blessed thing
Not another life, a breath
Or even a moment.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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I know the rage. I feel the rage. I like the rage.
Hi again, riveralex. I think this one has everything an angry rant should have: its acid tongue is directed, in its first half, to a "Brother, once lover" - sounds like a very real person - who totally self-centeredly took but never gave. I love the lines about that other person's precious little treasures of sachets and hotel soaps and "Chanel with the wrong number", and making fey but impregnable walls out of them.
Then the rage extends to like-built poets, pondering their now-present pain in poetry, when all their lives have been as sequestered and selfish as that person in the poem's first half.
For both of those kinds of people, "fuck you!" is the perfect response.
As I say, I like anger - a pretty nifty emotion in this absurd world. And your rant, in my opinion, is a heated and damn good example of it.
Lad -
Welcome to SharePoetry
Your rant is well written in my oppinion, with good vivid descriptions backing up the emotion and the anger.
I was bopping right along and lost focus in this line
That you owe me, owe, will always owe me more than your cowardly
I think because of the second instance of the word "owe". It may have been intentional but it sort of came off as a typo and it lessened the intensity for me through the rest of the write.
I went back and reread in it's entirity so that I could experience the poem without allowing the abrupt stop and it is very impressive from my perspective.
Keep writing and again, Welcome to SP
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Actually...
writing is very cathartic. You really oughtta try it.
Oh, wait...
You just did.
Apparently the ball falls not far from the one who licked it. Heh, heh...
Sorry, bro. I really got off on your angst and found it quite amusing to be perusing the work of one so entirely in the thick of what he purports to despise.
To that end, I find this a comedy. And it works quite well in that capacity. Very clever.
Al
p.s. the above is written on the take that this comedy/rant is directed at poets in general. Am I close? The relationship stuff at the beginning just seemed window-dressing to what was primarily a rant on simpering, whimpering writers. By the way...you write beautifully and in a sensitive way that evokes feeling. I think you have a tender spot amongst all that angst. Yep...I think you do. Oh, and since you asked...I the fuck am Al. Nice to meet you Mr. riveralex. -
hey rivaplex
you know when someone puts fuck in a title, your first instinct is the writing is juvenile like a teen ager that curses to sound tough. but usually the poems with fuck are really good because someone has worked up a good head of steam and their doesnt pull any punches.
the first half of the poem seemed you where venting about a soured relationship which was good but the second half-the rant against poets was beyond, i think poets as a lot are pretty self centered, of course i include myself, hung up on our own petty feeling, always putting ourselves first, users of other people and you rightfully point out altough we think what we do is so important, where not important at all. hey if the truth hurts so be it, sometimes you need a hard smack in the face.
thank you
dave -
this is absolutely the best poem with best feelings and message
your vocabulary seems very good -
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thanks 4 taking time to say.
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made me cry
I really felt this poem. You used language and expression that was easy to relate. I particularly liked "Move on move on they’d say to you, I say to you,
I don’t want you any more and I say it without apology,
Without defending my decision or any more bullshit words of love
Unsupported by action
Hanging like a stench in the sweet air."
Thanks for sharing!
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You got it, I'm glad.
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