Monday, 29 April 2013

Response to 'I want the real thing'

I finally ventured myself to the Richimix Jawdance spoken words night last week, and felt inspired to write this as a reponse to a piece called 'I want the real thing', performed by a very shy guy with trembling hands -his voice wasn't, though.

Response to ‘i want the real thing’

You say you want something real
so real you could fall asleep next to;
I ask: ‘aren’t your own ghosts good company enough?’
she will smile and bear your insecurities, you say
like broken twigs collected for a birdnest,
she will mend your crooked teeth and your
crooked heart but, what is really crooked is
your chin
and please, please, let me tell you that you needn’t be afraid
of a crooked chin, it might break down but it will not
spill glass over wretched nights.
She will dip your sorrows into a white pillow, you say
I ask: ‘aren’t your own hands big enough for you?’
you want to play an orchestra of four hands
but the piano bears two without harm
you put her voice in a microscope
but up close human vocals are as ugly as spilled coffee
next to a drunkard on the 243 nightbus.
The girls in pantyhose wait
it’s the same as before, it’s the same as the other time
your sighs are as heavy and distant as the moon
she will reflect them in tune, you say
I ask: ‘don’t you tune your guitar by yourself?’
you say you want the real deal, the wars, the pain,
the parents, the house and the champagne,
I ask: ‘is it still real if 
the drugs are wearing out 
and your hands stop shaking
and your eyes are closing and
is it still real if time has eaten you?'
I fall asleep on a white pillow and rejoice, but I guess
not everyone finds pleasure in little things such as
a lone head on a big pillow