Soliloquy Of The Solipsist

Image found here.

I?
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreaming houses all snuff out;
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon's celestial onion
Hangs high.

I
Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look's leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.

I
When in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott any color and forbid any flower
To be.

I
Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.

© Sylvia Plath.

Thanks, Mamie.

 

From the Wood smoke and Pumpkins Blog

Faces like balloons...

"Balloons"
 
I saw too many faces today
faces like balloons.

at times I felt like
lifting the skin
and asking,
"anybody under there?"

there are medical terms for
fear of height
for
fear of
enclosed spaces.

there are medical terms for
any number of
maladies

so
there must be a medical term
for:
"too many people."

I’ve been stricken with
this malady
all my life:
there has always been
"too many people."

I saw too many faces
today, hundreds of
them

with eyes, ears, lips,
mouths, chins and so
forth

and
I’ve been alone
for several hours
now

and
I feel that I am
recovering.

which is the good part
but the problem
remains
that I know I’m going to
have to go out there
among them
again

   - Charles Bukowski

O, Death...

When you put it this way, it doesn't seem so bad.

THE MAN AT THE PIANO

THE MAN AT THE PIANO

PLAYS A SONG
HE DIDN'T WRITE
SINGS WORDS
THAT AREN'T HIS
UPON A PIANO
HE DOESN'T OWN

WHILE
PEOPLE AT TABLES
EAT, DRINK AND TALK
THE MAN AT THE PIANO
FINISHES
TO NO APPLAUSE

THEN
BEGINS TO PLAY
A NEW SONG
HE DIDN'T WRITE
BEGINS TO SING
WORDS
THAT AREN'T HIS
UPON A PIANO
THAT ISN'T HIS

AS THE
PEOPLE AT THE TABLES
CONTINUE TO
EAT, DRINK AND TALK
WHEN
HE FINISHES
TO NO APPLAUSE
HE ANNOUNCES,
OVER THE MIKE, THAT HE IS
GOING TO TAKE
A TEN MINUTE BREAK

HE GOES
BACK TO THE MEN'S
ROOM
ENTERS
A TOILET BOOTH
BOLTS THE DOOR
SITS DOWN
PULLS OUT A JOINT
LIGHTS UP

HE'S GLAD
HE'S NOT
AT THE PIANO

AND THE
PEOPLE AT THE TABLES
EATING, DRINKING AND TALKING
ARE GLAD
HE ISN'T THERE
EITHER

THIS IS
THE WAY IT GOES
ALMOST EVERYWHERE
WITH EVERYBODY AND EVERYTHING
AS FIERCELY
IN THE HIGHLANDS
THE
BLACK SWAN BURNS

C. BUKOWSKI