Sunday, April 10, 2005

Potential - Review's please

This is a rough draft of the poem that Sam screams while beating the raquet ball after Hank dies. Writen she is screaming the poem into her recorder that is cliped to her bike shorts and the mic is clipped to her tank top. It is about 3 month's after Hank's death which will make her about 8 months preg or close to her due date. Brandon walks in as she is yelling and ranting (private raquet ball court) and he tries to calm her. She goes into labor as she makes the last part of the poem, which is more of a statement to Brandon (about not being able to escape.) This is her mini break down after the media hub-bub before she find's out his death was faked.
Let me know how it reads, thanks. PMCC mailed 4.11.05 jd ganoe


You said you’d never leave me
that this was forever
I was so deceived by you
Where did you go
Why did you go
You left me here
Silent and alone
The shutters of my heart
slamming shut
The blinds of my mind
hanging askew
The windows of my soul
leak the shallowness
of your departure
To me you were cavalier
My once upon a time
my fairy tale of faith
Now my living night mare
All alone I echo inside
I resound this ache
I resolve to the fact
I can see
I grieve upon this fate
Timeless reason
of no rational hope
Strength
I bear the weight of my soul
without you to guide the way
I am in horror
this life with out you
My heart bow’d (bow like a bow and arrow) that day
you know, the day you died
You didn’t have to be brave
You didn’t have to be the pillar of strength
I alone bore that burden
I alone held their hearts
I had to listen to that sound
as they broke
I wasn’t allowed to morn you
You media and your fans
raped me of that right
Inside I shattered
the day you died
And I am unable to escape
this view thru my eyes

1 Comments:

Blogger NYPinTA said...

It definitely has the beat of someone playing raquette ball!
Quick and angry.
Cool.

4/12/05, 4:03 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home


Counter Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.