Controlled Connection
May 1, 2006

I don't do this often, but thought I'd share an old poem with you. It's somewhat in the slam style. Hope you enjoy.



I was once fast and vibrant,
running thru life at the breakneck speed of a skateboard punk
thrashing my way thru the concrete construction playground
grinding on handrails,
body    board    wheels
suspended madonna in the air and crashing down together.
controlled connection to the ground
connected

and then I banked off you,
skidded to a slow stop
stepped on the end of the deck until it spun
up thru the air
and into my hands.
controlled connection

We strolled out of the concrete granite park
into an apartment and rolled into commitment
knowing exactly how to make the jump at the end of the vert ramp
where Sketchers would land on wood
and wheels would land on concrete

Well, we did land on concrete.

I tore the trucks off my deck and
placed them under your feet
wheels to keep you moving.
And then I patched your motivation
with my board.
Nailed it
to the wall
as you nailed
your hands
to my edges,
chaining yourself to a transportation you didn't understand
but wanted.
and we cruised.

Bearings full of mud
I finally saw:
you had stopped moving.
ground to your own halt
and I alone was moving

your dreams were full
of skateboard punks
thrashing their way thru concrete construction playgrounds
grinding on handrails,
body    board    wheels
madonna in the air and crashing down together
controlled connection to the ground
connected

But you couldn't unchain your hands
from the board
preferring the stigmata of weight
(responsibilities untaken but nailed)
And you couldn't
control
And you couldn't
connect

But you said, happy, as I sailed back up the vert ramp alone:
"You're so fun to watch!
wish you didn't love it so much.
hate myself
wish i were,    not me.
scared.
just trying to hold on.
life goes on, tears or not
please don't hate me.
I've stopped."

And I make my jump at the end of the vert ramp
where my Sketchers land on wood
and my wheels land on concrete,
wheels spinning
foot pushing off the crumbling concrete behind me
and then resting on the back of the board
a quick 180 to make sure
   and another to go on
I continue to move
bearings gliding, spinning
grinding on handrails,
body    deck    wheels
madonna thru the air and coming down together.
controlled connection to the ground
connected movements

moving on
moving

Posted by Red Monkey at May 1, 2006 5:13 PM | Storytelling: She was, of course, supposed to be sleeping. | | StumbleUpon Toolbar Stumble |

 

hellonheels said:

I usually don't care much for poems, but I really liked this. Thank you for sharing.

Red Monkey said: Yeah, I'm not big on poetry, either. A good chunk of it is just too flowery ... another good chunk is simply inaccessible ... another piece of it is simply written for English professors to pick apart and study ... and then, there's a small handful, in my opinion, that's actually readable.   ?
May 1, 2006 9:51 PM

 

aden said:

I am another one of those, not too hip on poetry. (at least anymore, even though I still want to write a book of it) Despite that, this was great, and very vivid.

May 2, 2006 9:38 PM
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