The Pig Brigade and The Caldera

The Pig Brigade and The Caldera

A while ago I stumbled upon a cache of my earlier poetry, written when I was a teenager.  Most of it is eye-roll inducing, but one in particular caught my interest because I had subsequently written another poem about the exact same event, but over a decade later. I found it interesting to see how differently I approached and felt about the same situation after a little more life experience.  For those of you who are poetically minded you I thought you might find it interesting as well.

A word of caution: The Pig Brigade does contain the f-word; I would say a modest amount.  Cut me some slack, I was nineteen!  🙂

ps. I’d also like to say I really, really, really hate the new editing features for the pictures.  Now it’s even MORE difficult to use.  Thanks, WordPress. 😡

Pig Brigade

the pig brigadePig Brigade

is in the orange grove

cutting down the trees.

we never could please

the rude boys

the way too lewd boys

the fuck you over

and break your heart boys.

 

get down and take me

place me in your secret eyes

lie

and tell me you loved me

so that I can have

one more reason

to be way too through

with the lés miserables you

so that I can tear up

every touchBlood Oranges Cut

I thought meant something

and pretend

that when you’re alone

you cry for me.

 

and the pig brigade is on

its way down

with oranges in their snouts

looking at the breaking sky

which is coming through the trees

like a thick, delirious disease.

 

played out,

worn out,

torn out,

you rude boy

you way too lewd boy

I fucked you over

and left you, boy

while the pig brigade sang

and danced in the orange grove

under a deep, December sky . . .

 

 

The CalderaHalemaumau Caldera

we have made a caldera      you & I

the crossroads of our youth

formed the abruption.

 

I remember us two

lying before

someone else’s fire

your arm around me

in a moment

that was perfect

enjoined

not then knowing

in a handful of days

a death would

lie between us

scarring my hands with

garnets and rubies

and painting you in shades of

disdain

even as you were swallowed

up in the labyrinth of time.

 

sometimes, I wonder:

does he evenYellowstone Caldera

remember,

or has my face

and my body

and the baby

faded into that

great grey space of the mind

where we reconcile

our disquiet

by diminishing it

to insignificance?

 

will I ever again

ebon his horizon

and burn through the ash and the dust

so that we may finish

up these loose threads

at last?

or will we disappear

into every empty place?

some things even time

can not erase.

 

the blood that we bred

will still bind us . . .

Hawaii Caldera

 

4 thoughts on “The Pig Brigade and The Caldera

  1. I like them both, thanks to the context you provided. Besides, teenage poetry has its privileges and rolling eyes after many years is an excellent proof we’ve learnt something. But I like the f word, so I’m not objective 😉

    Like

    • Thanks for the like and the comment!

      “rolling eyes after many years is an excellent proof we’ve learnt something”. Very true! Sometimes our youthful self expression is embarrassing if we think of it in the wrong light. It’s a wonderful reminder of just how far we’ve come.

      So you like the f-word? It’s very fun, I must agree. And my teenaged self littered her poems with it like it was going out of style. One of these days I might post some of them so people can have themselves a nice laugh . . .

      Thanks again for stopping by! 🙂

      Like

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