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Cheery Me


Camy

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My poem 'Cheery Me' seems to have caused 'a bit of a to do'.

Cheery cheery me

Razor blade and morphine free

Can't take the final step

No one to feed the cats you see

I appreciate the concern more than those concerned will probably ever know: however, I'd like to state that though I've occasionally pondered the idea of 'offing' myself - and who can honestly say they haven't - I wouldn't. It's pointless, and I have way too much to do. I really, really want to finish my novel. I've songs to record, a boyfriend to shag (too much information?) and a life to live ... not to mention cats.

So thank you - you know who you are.

And to those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, thank you too.

Camy :laugh:

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Thanks for the reassurance. Joking about it can be a "feeling out" stage, and is frightening. Think more thoughts about that shagging stuff you mentioned. That out to put your mind in the right place.Cole

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Hey Camy,I found it brilliant and not the least bit disturbing. I have written a few pieces fantasizing about my own death so I understand the need to sometimes examine certain feelings. I figure if you have the cats to keep you company and the occasional shag from the bf, then examine those feelings and write about it. I love the little tidbits of Camy thoughts you give us time to time. Great title by the way, I think that's the most brilliant part of the piece.Jason R.

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Camy, like Jason, I too, "love the little tidbits of Camy thoughts you give us time to time. "Perhaps perversly, I also love, that I do find this poem somewhat disturbing, but only disturbing in the same way I find a Hitchcock movie, on the surface, disturbing. Confronting, suspenseful, enigmatic and revealing, all at the same time.A "bit of a to do," indeed.What perhaps, is the give-away that it is quite the conundrum, is the form of the first three lines:Cheery cheery meRazor blade and morphine freeCan't take the final step If we change the word 'final' to say, 'last' those first three lines become a poem in Japanese Zen koan form. of 5-7-5 syllables.Cheery cheery meRazor blade and morphine freeCan't take the last step. Personally I would not do that, I would simply apply poetic licence in delivery to shorten the word 'final' to "fin'l".Can't take the fin'l step The remaining line of the poem:No one to feed the cats you see.is what changes the koan into a brilliant work of English poetry, providing an unexpected reason for not taking the final step. The implied, denied access of the means (razor blade and morphine) to engage the final step is achieved by the description of being 'free' of both their availability and effect. This is ultimately linked to the substitute cynicism of the opening line, 'cheery me, cheery me' as it, in turn, becomes one of cheery reason when the tools of finality are substituted and thus displaced by the responsibility and understanding (you see), for the objects of affection -the cats. The wider philosophical and cathartic effects of the poem I leave for the individual to consider. A poem well worth, "a bit of to do." :hug::hug:

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Thank you all. Sincerely.The poetry I write that is the best happens almost without thought, and very fast, too. I guess that's why I believe I have an actual real live muse ... because it's not me.I read your comments, Des, then re-read them. If I were to meet you at a party, I'd stand there stroking my non existent whispy goatee, nodding sagely."Yes, well of course a Koan was my original intent," I'd say, then pretend to see a familiar face on the other side of the room and leg it. Of course I'd come back later - I'm not rude!You see, had I tried for 'form' of any description, I'd still be writing. When Kitty (my ever patient editor) starts talking grammar, my eyes glaze over and I see bunny rabbits gambolling in daisy filled fields. But thanks anyway. It's nice to know I nearly wrote a Koan. Camy :hug: Btw, my favourite poem in this vein is by Stevie Smith, entitled 'Not Waving But Drowning'.Nobody heard him, the dead man,But still he lay moaning:I was much further out than you thoughtAnd not waving but drowning.Poor chap, he always loved larkingAnd now he's deadIt must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,They said.Oh, no no no, it was too cold always(Still the dead one lay moaning)I was much too far out all my lifeAnd not waving but drowning.

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Camy wrote:

I read your comments, Des, then re-read them. If I were to meet you at a party, I'd stand there stroking my non existent whispy goatee, nodding sagely."Yes, well of course a Koan was my original intent," I'd say, then pretend to see a familiar face on the other side of the room and leg it. Of course I'd come back later - I'm not rude!
Ah Camy, I should confess, If I met me at a party and carried on like that I would run from the 'wanker' too. :hug: I did think that the near koan was just that, but thought it was wonderful as to how close it was. There is a certain "accident" quality that is much admired in Zen works.In the spirit of such fun and admiration, I couldn't resist offering the rest to complete my comments. :hug: Like you I find my best stuff flows with ease, intuitively.However I did mean what I said about Cheery Me being well worth a bit of to do. :hug: I really enjoyed the poem you quote by Stevie Smith, entitled 'Not Waving But Drowning'.Oh look, I think our boyfriends are wanting us to take them home. :wav:
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Camy wrote:Ah Camy, I should confess, If I met me at a party and carried on like that I would run from the 'wanker' too. :hug:
That was NOT what I meant! It was more that .... Never mind. I'll end up tying myself in knots ... no, no no. I didn't mean that either.Sheesh!
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