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Baby Speak

by laurafraser 

Posted: 08 August 2004
Word Count: 546


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More words are about to be dribbled
cumbersomely and indulgently
from a mind
to fingertips
to screen
to print
to you.
But only after a heart ceases to beat,
after a lamb in the springtime says what about meal times
And a lunch lady says eat up me lovely me lovely eat up.

But isnít it the vegetable men who speaks like that?

Like what says the old lady by the pond in the park with the palace in it,
Like the days when I smiled because I believed there was a tomorrow that would bring me things that I hadnít seen or tasted,
But I love you he said, they said, we all say,
I.
Love.
You.
(and he thought that was enough).

Black green trees blow in winds stolen from deserts parched and thirsty,
where the tumbleweed
rolls&rolls&rolls
and where my feet will never tread,
(because I like the cold).

But dear, listen to these cumbersome dribb
led words
that I stole laboriously from minds too sick to be aware
that they thought them
Oh! Didnít you know, this that and everything I say,
you have thought it, denied it and then lived it,
whilst all the while dying your brown hair blond, and your green eyes blue, a human Barbie, your attempts to become inanimate make me cry and want to
weep by the willow whose fat silver tears will
drown the dove who dears to coo below or beside.

Sorry words are drying up
(heard them all before),
but I love you, them him and her,
I love you,
Have always, will till tomorrow, or at least until half past two on the day that my heart stops.
But then I forgot, I am eternal, didnít even need to take a potion.
Neither will you dear, and then think of all who strove to make their mark,

Listen if I kill ten thousand of you and write a book of words filled with ideas others claim not to think,
Ahh! How wonderfully permanent I shall become.
Theyíll build statues of me, paint pictures of me, immortalise me.
(Me, Moi, Me, Moi, Me, Moi memorise memories of me).
And the web was wove from a dyslexic amputated limb that your token god had spat out on the day and the hour and the minute of the calendar date that remembers the day and the hour and the minute of that man who saved mankind, and you celebrate by killing thousands of people who because your eyes will never see,
You
Donít
Mind.
But I am a hypnotise, I can disguise and control,
But best of all,
Ta da!
I. Can. Understand.
(Is that all of humanity sir?)
Oh look isnít that cute? The hamster has run out of its cage. But oops a daisy! The catís just ripped off its head.
So thatís the lesson. Iíve come bleediní far ya know,
Bleediní bloody far I have
(I have)
not (knock knock)
that that
(whoís there)?
matters,
but thought everyone might like to know,
(Ahoy there! I said whoís there)?
you know,
(the place is bloody empty, where the hell is everybody)?

That you might like to know,
that my dribbled words,
(your dribbled words)
have crystallised, become immortalised,
and now theyíre crusty saliva.






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Comments by other Members



Fearless at 18:01 on 08 August 2004  Report this post
Laura

Positively, decidedly, brilliant. I read this aloud and savoured the twisting tongue, strains of lung and the tonal careering. Would make a terrific performance piece.

Reminds me in some ways of 'I Reign' by Literati on WriteWords and several poems by Lawrenco, also on WW (gosh, all your site handles begin with 'L' - a conspiracy perhaps?), as well as 'The Man Who Vanquished His Demons' & 'Obsolete' by The Walrus.

As ever, write on,

Fearless

The Walrus at 20:55 on 08 August 2004  Report this post
As Fearless says, brilliant... reads to me as a stream of uninhibited articulate subconcious. It is on the edge stuff and speaks clearly probably because it is well balanced, containing both a concious ego and a refreshing direct honesty.

Look forward to more.

The Walrus

deblet at 15:23 on 09 August 2004  Report this post
heartbreaking and wild Laura. I love it. It's conversational ease - how you disguise our relentless blindness and shrugging of responsibility with black humour and self deprecation works to great effect.

stanza 4 - last line - "the dove who 'dares' to coo?

anyway, it's beautiful.

Found your publisher yet?

deblet



laurafraser at 23:07 on 11 August 2004  Report this post
Fearless, Walrus and deblet,
thank-you all for your comments-they smeared a cheshire cat smile on my face as I read them....very flattering!
"the dove wwho dares to coo" because i like the idea of a mundane innocence containing a choice that is potentially threatening, yet ultimately of course it is a choiceless choice and so slightly comic-the neurotic dove if you will...
hope that doesn't sound too pretentious it wasn't meant to sound contrived

laura x

deblet at 09:26 on 12 August 2004  Report this post
Hi again laura

No, it's a typo! You've written '...the dove who dears to coo'

and no, it doesn't sound pretentious or contrived. Just inspired!

deblet X


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