The Day I Decided to Live

















The day I decided to live
I erased every number on my phone,
dropped a few lines to enemies,
and got the fuck out of bed.

The silence had grown moss
across the walls in pitiful whines
until I couldn’t stand the me
I had wallowed into.

Why face the sunrise with a shit load
of every misery you insomnia walked
through your mind until your eyes
were tear rimmed bloodshot?

Alone sucked me into its bitter lemon
until I couldn’t stand my own company.
There wasn’t an ounce of friendly in my smile
or enough joy to shadow walk a grin.

I’m now ten years from the gray matter
I sacrificed to trying to find peace in a crap shoot.
My mind is still closer to crazy, but I’m in a better place.

Self pity loves to give you a knife sharp enough
to cut you into friendless… I burned enough bridges
for revival…Dancing on the end of a rope will teach
you how to live without blaming silence for kicking the chair.
  
 ©Susie Clevenger 2018

I wrote this in response to Charlies Bukowski's poem, The Night I Was Going to Die .

The Night I Was Going to Die ~ Charles Bukowski 

the night I was going to die
I was sweating on the bed
and I could hear the crickets 
and there was a cat fight outside
and I could feel my soul dropping down through the 
mattress
and just before it hit the floor I jumped up
I was almost too weak to walk
but I walked around and turned on all the lights
and then I went back to bed
and dropped it down again and
I was up
turning on all the lights
 
You can read the rest of the poem on the link above.




Comments

Gillena Cox said…
Yes indeed the blame games is fir losers. Live life yes

Thanks for dropping by to read mine

Much💝love
Two mighty powerful poems! But I like the way yours is slanted to the more positive view, from the title on – albeit not shirking the huge difficulties life can confront us with.
Brendan said…
Thanks Susie -- Sylvia Plath got me into that chair that Bukowski did you, and this anniversary poem celebrates doing what they could not--go on, live on. That brutal dark night -- whenever, wherever we experienced it -- is for me mythic, or deeper, shamanic, the initiation which kills most of its votives. To survive it is to carry a dark flame, perhaps, but essentially a healing one, and to find it here in your response poem is deeply gratifying. Thanks. Never forget that day.
Sanaa Rizvi said…
"Self pity loves to give you a knife sharp enough to cut you into friendless…" sigh.. this is the most poignant description of self pity I have ever read, Susie! I have been down this road on a number of occasions in my life.. and it's not a pretty place.. there comes a point in our lives when we stop caring about what others think and just begin to live... really live and love ourselves. And we must!💞
Sherry Blue Sky said…
WOW! Susie, this is fantastic.........those closing lines are totally amazing. I liked your poem better than Bukowski's.
LOVE your final line and "every misery you insomnia walked
through your mind..." Thanks for sharing the Bukowski poem, which I wasn't aware of.
Kim M. Russell said…
I think that's a deuce in your tennis match with Bukowski, Susie! Lots of great lines to choose from but my favourites are:
'The silence had grown moss
across the walls in pitiful whines'
and
'Alone sucked me into its bitter lemon
until I couldn’t stand my own company'.
This is outstanding, Susie! The images are so vivid and startling. Like it fa better than Bukowski's.
Angie said…
Susie, i love your selection and your honesty. Really good stuff
Jim said…
Alone is,a bad companion. I like your finding,
:There wasn’t an ounce of friendly in my smile
or enough joy to shadow walk a grin"
"I had an early morning like bukowski's, bad scene. It turned out to be a new med I had started on. Scared me bad.
..