Today held another frustrating moment wherein my son likes to be as obtuse as practically possible. Sounds like and oxymoron or another way in which I like to be masochistic, I suppose, but well, trying to get him to understand how communication and conversation should go has me once again feeling the anger. Frustration is more accurate, but that’s when I get most angry because mosts of the time, ‘it didn’t have to be’.
Anyway, asked him about his immediate plans upon touchdown in NZ but all he said was ‘I’m working on it.” Pretty much went around in circles, getting frustrated as I tried to decipher if he had a place to sleep that night or was he going to bunk out on the curb. The latter seems more realistic based on his answers. Says he’s working on it––he leaves in about 3 weeks and doesn’t have this nailed down and as far as I can tell, is depending on his mother’s friend’s daughter’s best friend (or something like that) to ‘get back with him’ with some info.
I seriously wonder at his priorities and beliefs, much too much of the time. He won’t call himself Hindu, but that is the closest I can peg him. Thing is, no one else I know would approach such a life-changing moment this way. How many people do you know that arrange vacations this way? I mean c’mon; 3 weeks with the expensive plane ticket already purchased and he has no plans on where he’s going to sleep that night? I suppose this is where I turn to prayer because surely nothing I say seems to do much good at all.
So, just a blip on the day, but for me, this is one of the ‘important’ moments in life, not something superficial or meaningless. Too much of life tends to turn on these moments, in my opinion, and well, I wish he’d plan with better priorities. He’ll be on his own, half the world away, no family, no friends, and not much life experience.
I just hope that when he learns how this world operates that he’ll not be hurt so bad that he and his situation is unrecoverable. Surely, I never figured he’d turn out like this, and for the most part, he’s got more than a few ‘other’ areas figured out better than some adults. But I wonder at how lonely he might be inside. I say ‘might’ because there’s little outward evidence that he’s suffering, relative to what I’d say most people would call normal. Seems fatalistic to me, I guess.
Okay, long intro today, so better get to a poem, brought to you once again by Florence and her Machine; Strangeness and Charm. Appropriate title, I deem...
05 January 2012
Strangeness and Charm - pantoum
So many voices in my head,
frustration mills my stone to meal;
a strangeness charming things we’ve said,
Time’s wind turns blades like wounds bring weals.
Frustration mills my stone to meal,
is grist for gizzards eating crow;
Time’s wind turns blades and wounds bring weals
in words I never used to know.
Is grist for gizzards eating crow?
No blood is spilled and yet it’s bled
in words I never choose to know.
Too close, the stone reminds the dead
no blood is spilled and yet it’s bled
each time the conversation hangs
too close; the stone reminds the dead
as eyes go wide, and red paints fangs
each time the conversation hangs.
Strange skies will frame a burgeoned dream;
as eyes go wide and red paints fangs,
I cannot see the clouds you mean.
Strange skies will frame, a burgeoned dream
still frets to take the charming breath.
I cannot see the clouds you mean
to find in life, there’s only death.
Still frets to take the charming breath,
it squirms with Silence, baiting talk
to find in life, there’s only death
when listening fails to walk the walk.
So many voices in my head
a strangeness charming things we’ve said
Pantoum; interlocking poem consisting of quatrain stanzas, and all the lines are refrains. Meter is generally iambic tetrameter or IP.
A1B1A2B2, B1C1B2C2, C1D1C2D2, etc
the poem can be ended with a circle back of; X1A1X2A2 or with a couplet of A2A1
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