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Norwegian
Trad climber
dancin on the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Original Post - Dec 30, 2014 - 04:15am PT
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oh no.
i completely checked out.
misplaced my mug
and i bumbled about in the dark
looking for her.
i was in a cemetery recently.
sharing a bottle of wine
with my ex-high-school-sweetheart.
we are all grown up now.
40 and battered by life.
the trails behind us,
oh they have left their mark.
addiction and afflictions, ours.
she solicits pharmaceuticals and i make a hack of everything i do.
we both madly appreciate the classic arts.
life is busted up, in a sling.
but who the f*#k are we to care?
i told tiffany that she was a warm
ghost from my past,
and as she shivered i offered
her my bouldering pad
which we respectfully couched
against a child's gravestone....
an old down sleeping bag
in the 'old town cemetery,'
thrown over our legs
and wine inside, we looked down upon
our town, and emboldened our conversation.
we got to talk of our daughters.
of their eyes and their songs.
oh my gosh mine have such strong wills.
her's too.
then we got to talk of suicide.
why not?
i told her recently i put a gun in my gob
and pulled the trigger.
in this very graveyard,
"old town cemetery."
only i botched the layout and swallowed
the handle, with the muzzle pointed out
into everything.
as such, i lived and everything beyond me perished.
it fell to a crumpled mass, with it's essense looking
for a destination.
since i was the only warm entity near by,
it mistook me as heaven
and stood at my gates.
sheesh, i'm no jesus but i accepted
my stage role and stood up straight.
come on in. one. all.
bring your cars. turn up the music.
so the whole f*#king world inverted,
and i became the center of the universe
and thus felt a little bloated.
little tiff, with her gorgeous blue eyes,
her white-white hair, her worn skin
caked with makeup and her lips quite invitingly red,
looked at me with a strong curiosity,
as i shared my crazy dream with her
on that blanketed crash pad;
a child's gold-rush spirit cries beneath us
because his pioneer parents were
buried 100 miles away... 1859.
she was about to kiss me but i
saved the moment by
speaking to the child in the dirt
basement below us and told
him that i accidently killed
the wrong side of me
and now i'm heaven so
come on in,
"what do your parents look like?"
and i hope to reunite the family...
the crying ceased and the kiss
misses its mark, softly anyway.
my troubles briefly became pleasant.
an owl down the hill
retorted his melancholy dissent.
bats? sure, why not.
no stars. a very chill night.
some whores having it with the firemen
in the station tower beyond.
a little lou reed on her i-phone
[Click to View YouTube Video]
and suddenly she's gotta take a piss.
i aint about to send her out alone into
the silhouetted pines,
so i light her way and hold her hand
and she has on peach colored lace panties
and they slide down over creamy thighs,
and i look away.
i'm sorry that i killed my world.
and that i stand alone now.
for the rest of the evening she gives
me her ear and i make
poetry out of my tragedy.
and she admires my emotional preservation.
at the end of the bottle,
and at the bottom of night,
she asks me,
"how is your wife?"
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Norwegian
Trad climber
dancin on the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 30, 2014 - 04:34am PT
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i'm like a gestating rock star
and i'm doing my time here
on the night club scene
just waiting for the
money pimp to notice me...
don't worry, if ever someday
i become something other
than a drunk-bucket of inspiration,
like maybe a dentist
that works on dragon's teeth,
i'll shower you
with what you're due.
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:50am PT
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dude you chicken me out and I don't play... If the Raw caustic near toxic is to much for me
I pity the fool who as not been down some dark roads
thinking that she likes the red white and blu skull thingy
Or has seen that tattoo some where
opens up on one of your trips ... of you trips
that could leave the simple surfer
busted up.
She Said ..
Now this is not me...
But I still . . .
Kiss the kids and Wife.
She said why does it concern me what is the point.?
You do not live in. New Jersey!!!
That is the point .
some how the picture of down busted engineer poet Rock star climber got old ? really I cherish what you need to get back I care
fool to those who don'T C IT stay awake too and drunken drinking fool too also if
going forward now you do not go and get straight and get the princesses of your life
the blessings you have!,, makes this. . choke ...biteme mitebe I drink and blow up my life by not stopping drinking, great art but. true times go by slowly dying away from your family.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
dancin on the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 30, 2014 - 05:02am PT
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i live in music.
like a fish in water.[Click to View YouTube Video]
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Charlie D.
Trad climber
Western Slope, Tahoe Sierra
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Dec 30, 2014 - 07:39am PT
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Oh dear.........the Old Town Cemetery is a place that speaks volumes about life and great worth. I've contemplated it all walking amongst those carved head stones with words about loved ones long gone spoken by family members who would join them soon enough. It may seem like a place for the dead but really it's a place for the living providing great lessons in how to live by loving much, living well and letting go.
Happy New Year Chuck may 2015 charge you with positive energy that moves you forward to a place of peace in your heart.
Your buddy for life,
Charlie D.
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Charlie D.
Trad climber
Western Slope, Tahoe Sierra
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Dec 30, 2014 - 09:42am PT
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Stability, contentment, good cheer
I've certainly seen the man in each state but never at the same time.
BTW Jebus I'm fairly certain he'd find no offense in my giving, taking is what offends him. I wish for Chuck the fate of a rolling stone, his angle of repose. It took me almost 60 years with many bruises, a few fractures, great loss and countless lessons but even I got there, the Norwegian will prevail.
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Jaybro
Social climber
Wolf City, Wyoming
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Dec 30, 2014 - 10:11am PT
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I really like this poem, the one in the first post, as I do a lot of Norwegian's work. But I have to admit part of my motivation in clicking on these is the train wreck factor, and I suspect I'm not alone.
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survival
Big Wall climber
Terrapin Station
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Dec 30, 2014 - 10:57am PT
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Somebody turn a light on in this dark ass closet!!
Yes, the slow motion train wreck. But apparently the weeg wouldn't have it any other way.
He's been given plenty of bumps and nudges over the years. You know what they say about people having to make up their own mind about stuff.
Always interesting weeg!
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mynameismud
climber
backseat
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Dec 30, 2014 - 03:35pm PT
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That was good.
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nah000
climber
no/w/here
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:02pm PT
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ya know weeg, i appreciate a lot of what you post on here...
even if a lot of it feels kind of like looking into someone's stream of consciousness diary...
and so i often feel like maybe i should look away... but inevitably i don't...
this piece felt the same... at first... i even closed the post without finishing on the first go round.
but then i came back and i've reread it a few times now.
the first time i can remember where, for me, a piece of your writing feels like something more...
something that stands not only as part of a greater whole... but also on its own.
this piece is very strong.
thank you.
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guyman
Social climber
Moorpark, CA.
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:08pm PT
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Keep up the writing, I enjoy it.... sometimes you hide the meaning down deep, buts that the fun.
I hope you discover true happiness in 2015.
Happy New Years
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Flip Flop
Trad climber
Truckee, CA
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:26pm PT
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Weeg,
There's nothing dark about a little wandering among ghosts.
Your poetry is contemporary and relevant beyond climbers and this forum. Really really fine stuff and a pleasurable torment to read. Wishing you fun in the darkness. Methinks and mefeels that the love from the onspring will sustain any pressure drops. Here's to hoping.
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the albatross
Gym climber
Flagstaff
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:50pm PT
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i told her recently i put a gun in my gob
and pulled the trigger.
in this very graveyard,
"old town cemetery."
only i botched the layout and swallowed
the handle, with the muzzle pointed out
into everything.
as such, i lived and everything beyond me perished.
it fell to a crumpled mass, with it's essense looking
for a destination.
Weeg, hope your ok.
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Studly
Trad climber
WA
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Dec 30, 2014 - 04:52pm PT
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That did not have such a happy ending Weedge. Must be real life.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
dancin on the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 30, 2014 - 05:12pm PT
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i wish i could pay you all
a wage for reading my trashy reports.
and a wage for the complements
and for the criticism
and for the shares (thank you sullly)
and for the comparisons
to cobain though kurt
and i share no destiny
for i think it's better to
burn out and to fade away.
i work really hard in all that i do:
fatherhood, tree work, engineering, did i mention fatherhood?
well i also work really hard on my creative writing.
i like to intercept daily instances
and apply them to some periphery.
fatherhood is exhausting
though utterly satisfying.
i'm ejecting out of this plane called consciousness.
believe me,
i'll see at least 58, though probably not more.
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Norwegian
Trad climber
dancin on the tip of god's middle finger
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 30, 2014 - 05:26pm PT
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oh and i admit that i like
an upside down prowess,
one not defined by my culture.
one where hardship
is daily and abundant.
though the rewards earned
upon overcoming it
are extraordinary.
i've come to detest
well-being for it
only begs of me
a complacent existence.
i need to run from something,
and when nothing is chasing
i simply run from myself.
across your blanket.
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crankster
Trad climber
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Dec 30, 2014 - 07:32pm PT
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Roll back the booze and increase the weed, Norway Man, and you'll hit 98, teaching your grandkids to climb.
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johntp
Trad climber
socal
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Dec 30, 2014 - 07:40pm PT
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Don't come undone. Too many have done that. It helps no one.
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