Dirty Gerty's Hurdy Gurdy

GERTYHURDYGURDY

GERTYHURDYGURDY
Only the poem knows what's true

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

First Blog

Dear reader(s)?,

I've never quite posted a blog, beyond MYSPACE. So, I am a slight novice as pertains to this sphere. Even so, I intend to take some minutes every day to write. Whether it be nonsensical, literary, or even poetical. Tonight, as I'm in a deadly mood, I'm posting a poem. It's quite... simple... and I can write better. I know because this was written some years ago... I may even have been a teenager when it was written But, what good are blogs if you cannot display yourself, in multifarious aspects. It, the poem, pertains, as you will see, to there being nothing in life but nothing of life, and "everness" of death:

There is no path but to the grave,
Though some may pave another way,
And dream that life can self-insert,
The world of loves that is our hurt.

But we, who've seen the many ways,
That life can turn our eyes astray,
So we won't view the life we're fed,
And feed instead on dreams long dead.

We know, life has not perfected,
The image, we see reflected,
Is not the life we'd like to live,
But all that life can never give.

Our mirror is the common way,
The only way, to live astray,
From all the sun, and shadows save,
There is no path but to the grave.

Forgive the dour quality of this piece, and its horrendous quality, too. I've just re-read it, and realize I've grown beyond lines like "The world of loves that is our hurt." And I know the value of metaphor. And even allusion. And this poem signifies nothing of that. What it does signify, is something I have been thinking, about.
Namely, the way death, and I would go so far as to say nihilism, is necessitated by life and valuation. I'm not quite sure what slant my blogs will take. But, for my first one, I'd like to insert the thought that there is an assertion in death. One that proclaims we must know the value of everything is nothing. But, to quote that beautiful word Borges found once, and used in an interview with The Paris Review, the value of "everness" is "neverness."
That is all, for now. I promise to be a bit more enlightening. A bit more... joyous, too, in the future. I may even bore you with the mundane aspects of my life, and even the most enthralling... perhaps not them... but, as a woman who has endured Systemic Lupus, Kidney Disease from Lupus, Major Depression, and people she loves dearly physically ill, I know the value of thought, and communication. I suppose blogs are remarkable because they foster both (?).

XOXO reader(s)?

1 comment:

  1. You're too harsh on yourself my dear. It's really very beautiful and puts me to shame.

    You're writing is exquisite and you should be published immediately. Get onto those agents and with every rejection, fire off another query.
    lots of love..
    xo

    ReplyDelete