a little closer to truth
this kind of living is hard work
This has gotten me only trivially closer to compensating
for the fundamental defectiveness of human desire,
the way standing on a roof gets one only trivially closer
to reach for the stars than standing in the dirt,
which is to say a prayer is nothing
but a long line of please(s) and thank you(s)
but the difference between prayer
and mercy is how you move
the tongue. I’ve been thinking why I do what I do
with this faltering machinery
that is language, but then I remember
all the women in my family are beautiful
and sad by the time the night falls in.
I’ve often run out of language
to explain the avalanche of anguish I feel
when faced with this world, so better money
is on imagining another and eating the fruit
and drinking the rain, not because of the hunger
for hunger is your body asking
for something it can’t keep
no, in this luminous and withering world, you eat and drink
because the hand offering it is warm.
I was told the sunlight was a cloak thrown over our precious corners,
but tell that to the dizzy bird singing into the newness of the morning
light, the crack big enough for the sky to fall
into its chorus
The joke is that I was once heartbroken
enough to invent my own apocalypse
and what a misfortune to have lived long enough
to witness a few real ones.
But now, tell me what few inches of this wretched world
can be made into an adequate space for us to mourn.
Watch the man in the red coat hold his hands out like cups,
the girl running barefoot across the lawn, her laughter full of teeth
and stand there, feeling the almost mercy of it all,
no story – just skin and sky and the un/repeatable fact
that is rain. Come, I’ve placed you gently
within the rhythm of my heartbeat
may we never live long enough
to see the heart break in the infinite ways that it’s capable
but long enough to experience the ways
the heart can repair itself for its next breaking
for what it’s worth, we will love each other
only here, only for a while and it is worth seeing
what I can make out of a few hours
to pray into this poem
not expecting an answer
but to have said the thing anyway.
oh, what a fortune to have lived long enough
to look like my father.
***
About the Creator
Mesh Toraskar
A wannabe storyteller from London. Sometimes words spill out of me and the only way to mop the spillage is to write them down.
"If you arrive here, remember, it wasn't you - it was me, in my longing, who found you."
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'20/20'
"Do It Again" the track that would ultimately open the Beach Boys final album on Capitol Records which was released on February 10th 1969 had originally been released as a single in August of 1968. The track was the first of many post-Pet Sounds era throwbacks to the early Beach Boys sound which would become continually more cliched and eventually lead the Beach Boys to the level of self-parody they would eventually succumb to in the 1980s while their closest contemporaries The Beatles nearing the end of their run in 1969 would go on to be viewed as the most influential band of all time. However, the song itself is not bad on its surface, and it opens with a futuristic sounding (for 1969) drumbeat captured by then-Beach Boys engineer Stephen Desper using tape delays on the drums performed by Dennis Wilson and John Guerin. The song has been re-recorded numerous times over the years on various Beach Boys-related projects most notably the 2011 re-recording at Capitol studios featuring the five surviving Beach Boys at the time backed instrumentally by various members of both the Brian Wilson Band and Mike Loves touring "Beach Boys" to promote the then upcoming Beach Boys 50th Anniversary reunion tour in 2012. The hammering and power drill sound at the end of the song was an excerpt from a track called "Workshop" that was to be a part of the uncompleted "SMiLE" album.
By Sean Callaghan5 days ago in Beat
Comments (3)
Gorgeous and provoking...
‘ prayer is nothing but a long line of please(s) and thank you(s)’ such a brilliant way to depict the futility of ritualistic behaviours! You have such a profound way with words Mesh. I never tire of reading your words and would say I’m hungry for them, challenging you on your perspective, 😂 because I think I can keep your words, as they sit embalmed in this space 😉. I love your unique imagery—you never stumble into a hint of cliche because you make each picture your own: a laughter full of teeth is just delightful and ‘all the women in my family are beautiful and sad by the time the night falls in’ is a stunningly yet simply beautiful insight. I haven’t been around much so am behind with everything but what a joy to return and read such amazing writing 🥰
"for hunger is your body asking \\ for something it can’t keep" WOW. I love how you view simple actions in the world. This is amazing imagery. The parallelism of "what a misfortune to have lived long enough \\ to witness a few real ones" then this, "may we never live long enough \\ to see the heart break in the infinite ways that it’s capable" and "oh, what a fortune to have lived long enough \\ to look like my father." Just. Wow. and Gorgeous. It was the structure I was subconsciously looking for in the first two reads, that I knew was there but was subtly woven in, motivating a third read. I also feel like the italics of "This" at the very beginning and the italics at the very end are meant to be the question and answer, and also allude to this poem’s thesis. The small mercies you give yourself when answers don’t come for the apocalypses. This line also illustrates that thesis: "may we never live long enough \\ to see the heart break in the infinite ways that it’s capable \\ but long enough to experience the ways \\ the heart can repair itself for its next breaking." Life is wretched, but there are corners of birdsong, and we have to take control of seeing and living in those corners to survive between the bad bits. Saying the thing matters more than if it’s true all the time. After all, time never stops weaving differences, and those last two lines are the proof that moments are all we have. This is stunning, Mesh. I love every word. As always, your poetry demands a long witness, so I took six readings to write this comment. It’s necessary, and I’m so happy to be reading your work again.