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Monday 25 April 2011

Hermeneutic

I said the next two poems I would post couldn't be any more different. You'll soon see what I meant if not go and read Invisible things first, you'll probably like it more than Hermeneutic. Well the title first of all what does it mean well it basically is the theory of interpretation. It's a cold a dark word too isn't it, it feels like your in some dusty library when you hear it. It's a word that they threw around a lot in philosophy classes at Uni. Etmylogy. There's a lot of words that almost mean the same thing, which is the study of thinking. But it is an interesting word.

This dark number evolved from a law case if you can believe it. I was writing from a very specific place. I was angry at the decision of the judge in that case to me he clearly made the wrong decision. To me this poem in a sense is the true story the one the judgement overlooks. It was a child custody case involving abuse, but you could probably get that from the poem. Of course reading it now, I enjoy it more for the fact that it is just really creepy and dark. I enjoy thinking of how you may react when reading this. If you don't like it and it makes you feel icky then I know I'm doing my job. Enjoy!

Hermeneutic

The pendulum swings
The fingers once inside
Removed from her

Ever wondered what the girl felt
As she cried across the page into
Your heart I felt something
Something I could not describe
As euphoria yet I had to calm
My primal flows

Her mother was a bitch
That’s how I read it her hair
Fell down in long blonde lengths
They were hideous to behold
And veiled her deceits well

Her father was a whore
A whimpering dog standing by
The broken home he thought he’d
Reconstruct one day when
He had gotten over his
Adolescent ways his eyes
Were unique hound-like curiosity
In their depths

People decided to stab their way
Into this girl’s life
They sent vindictive currents
Into her mind and
Now she knows just the way
To smile I am afraid
At how that smile is so
Assured aren’t you
Perhaps you failed to see it
Smiles are such funny things
Floating on the face haphazardly
Not hers

Her mother of course
Can speculate all she wants
About why it is she
Now only wears black
On the surface nothing has changed
Certainly when last I glanced the
White soft skin under her silky
Shawl on the eve of yesterday
There was nothing perceptively
Different

The father makes funny
Ways with his tongue
The kind I might expect
To see from a dog
Perhaps he is a dog
Those dopey loveable eyes
He is a fitting addition
To her palatial assets and fine
Bleach blonde world

The girl has an ice-cream
Which I consider normal
And appropriate given the circumstances
Of course have you seen her lick
And slurp like her daddy
The way his tongue moves over
Objects in the night
And licks and penetrates them
Studies them
She is not eating this ice-cream
She is testing it
The contours of her tongue
Are an experiment

Her neck and her brown hair
The colour of her father
The colour of chocolate

Of course the mother is all pretence
I have seen her lie in bed
She chooses to sleep naked
But alone naked
The nights she is not alone
In other beds she keeps in her garments
Usually a small cute top
Something around her chest and
Shorts with something
Borrowed and blue from her daughter

Domestically the father sits and reads
Playfully he smiles at the girl
Who licked the ice cream with
Her tongue

The girl is twisting her waist
She has seen the way mummy
Walks and does like to see her
Buttocks in the mirror
She images what she may soon appear
Perhaps her lips will be fatter
Larger creamier
“all the better to lick”
This is a brief thought it tingles
From head to foot like the sun
Of a summers day so pleasant and cool

The father and the mother are sitting
And laying respectfully asleep
And awake respectfully also
The mother does not drink smoke
Or cry or take drugs in her bathroom
Nor does she slit her wrists
But in the darkness of that room
She does smile
The smile she imagines glows in the
Dark as it should in this bedroom
When the wind hits the blinds and
Then slightly pulls open her nightgown
Her skin and breasts the colour of the moon

The pendulum swings
The fingers once inside
Removed from her

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