Old Poetry XVIII – Cradled Darkness

Published December 13, 2021
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Back in the day, when I was about twenty-two and a bit later, ’til about twenty-six, I wrote poetry. I haven’t written a real poem in a very long time. I used to be so into poem writing that I would go to “open-mics” and read my poems with my friend and brief-boyfriend Calvin. Calvin was significantly older than me, and unfortunately, the relationship didn’t quite work out on my end.

Calvin and I would go to the Mercury Café in Denver and read poetry, and we’d also go to a place called the Kasbah. What’s interesting about that is that Calvin and I were two white gay guys, and the Kasbah (or Casbah) was a mainly African-American lounge that had a poetry night. So we’d show up and we’d be the only two gay white guys amidst a see of strong black poets. It was a little bit daunting.

Of course, I decided to try my hand at being a “spoken word” artist and composed a SUPER long poem. I tried to pull it off and I was clapped offstage (or played offstage) at both the Mercury and the Kasbah… very embarrassing. After that, and the fact there was a shooting at the Kasbah one night I didn’t go, and my interest in open-mic’ing kinda died out.

I used to host all my poetry, both good and bad, on my website, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I’ve decided to, after approximately fourteen years, reshare the poetry that I wrote as a teenager and young adult.

Some of it is cringe, and some of it’s not quite so bad. You be the judge.

Cradled Darkness

Pounding in my ears of the light swinging back and forth,
Shattered glass cuts through the night, I let it run its course,
Blood dripping back into me, sweat stinging both my eyes,
Strength falls off of the walls into obscurity,
I shrink into the earth from distant pain and humility,
God needs glasses, to be saved from humanity.
Dead within the grave comes into fullest clarity,
And in the moment where all had come to hate,
Courage befell me but it was already too late.

I wrote this in my senior year of high school. I like the imagery and the rhythm, but I cringe at lines like, “God needs glasses, to be saved from humanity.” This implies a belief in a god, and assumes that god is some kind of theoretical good… both of which I don’t actually believe.

Stay tuned for Old Poetry XIX

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