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Accessory


Guest Rustic Monk

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Guest Rustic Monk

Accessory

Gabriel Duncan

When you said it was mine

I couldn?t look

The plus sign on the test said it took

When you came to take the pill

My heart fell ill

As the nausea washed over you

And it went away

Without a breath for the shrill scream of doubt

It was so fast

I didn?t have the time to wonder

How it would have been

As dangerous as it is

I can?t help but entertain

The sweet thoughts

Of a long lost picket fence

I should have been prouder

Or bolder

I thought I?d be wrought with lauds and

Vivacious explosions of relief

Now eschewed the burden on my shoulders

But today?s celebration is bitter-sweet

.

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Gabe, you know privately how I feel about this one. Life has uneasy choices and it can be rough getting through it at times.

It takes a real man to say he isn't sure if something's right or wrong, or to say how things are and what has happened.

You write about truth and real things, even when it's not comfy-cozy. I often come across as a starry-eyed idealist. What you write makes me think, and it's honest. Thanks for that.

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Poetry, for me, is almost as hard as, and sometimes harder than, reading body language and facial expressions. With Aspergers there is truly no reading between the lines, and with poetry, that's almost exclusively what you need to do. I have strained myself to comprehend what was written in "Accesory". If it is about what I think it is about, assisted suicide, then I commend you for doing well enough to get through to even an aspie. The gut wrenchingness of such love is matched only by stopping the machinery if a loved one is on life support with no hope of recovery. If this is a personal situation, my heart goes out to you, as does my deep appreciation for your caring, understanding, love, and indeed, your doubts too.

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Maybe I am way off base but I see a positive pregnancy test and an abortion pill and a would-be father who is relieved to be free of the responsibility of fatherhood but feeling guilty for being an accessory to the act of ending a life.

How far off am I?

David -- the straight one of our crew

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The thing I love most about poetry: the meaning of any given piece varies on the reader and that readers experience throughout life. Which is why with this single piece, already three or four readers have gotten at least two different meanings. Though I tend to agree with the "straight one" of the mail crew version :icon_geek: , I think Trab's interpretation is valid as well. In the end, whether you take the morning after pill or watch a close friend take an overdose to end the suffering, the meaning is the same. Regret, bitter sweet victory, and the always inevitable what-if scenario.

Gabe, from your recent poetry posts, I have a feeling that life has been very interesting for you lately to say the least. But then that's what I've always loved about life, if you aren't learning anything, you aren't growing as a person, as a man, or a human being. Either way, I love your recent work and think, If I'm right, we have lots more of good stuff to come from you in the future.

Jason R.

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Guest Rustic Monk

this poem is totally about abortion.

i was helping my neighbor out today and she said it was typical; that a guy who'd been with other guys for most-to-all of his life would impregnate his first girlfriend.

david was right. i stayed up all night to write that poem.

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Well, so much for a breakthough from my AS insights. It's brilliant work regardless, but I guess I'll have to stick with prose in order to have complete comprehension.

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