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Category Archives: Unusual Poetry & Writing

Dirty Pop-Tarts

This started out as just an homage to Pop-Tarts. But then somehow it just turned dirty. I guess that is what happens when you have been writing smutty stories since 7th grade.  Maybe no one else will appreciate this poem, but it makes me laugh out loud each time I read it.

Dirty Pot-Tarts

Oh, Pop-Tarts
How I love you so
I want to hold you
And never let you go.
But you are still hot
from the toaster
So I scream and drop you
on my plate.
You are called “Pop”
Because you pop out of my toaster
You are called “Tart”
Because that was someone’s
original inspiration to invent you
And fill you with a fruit-like substance.

Cherry is my favorite flavor
And used the most for
advertising purposes.
An iconic image
pink frosty glaze
painted on top of a
cardboard-like crust
topped with red sprinkles
Filled in the center
with ooey-gooey
non-flavor specific
sweet goodness.
I devour you–
I can’t get enough
your fruit filling
glues the crust
into my teeth.
That nagging processed taste
fills my brain with sensations.

Some people will eat you out
of a vending machine
COLD.
Not me
I don’t want you that way.
I need you hot
gooey
hard & warm in my hand
Then in my mouth
so sticky sweet
a little salty too
And then it’s over
And I am not satisfied
You always leave me wanting…

–JLS 9/8/13

Deliciously lovable Pop-Tarts

Deliciously lovable Pop-Tarts

Dave Finds Her Howl

Dedicated to my favorite puppy, Dave D. Canine, who we brought home exactly 9 years ago today.

Dave during her first few days with us (Don't worry, we totally fattened her up.)

Dave during her first few days with us (Don’t worry, we totally fattened her up.)

Dave was a sad little puppy
Sitting in a cage at the shelter all alone.
More than anything,
She wanted a forever home.

A place that smelled like
Human food & fresh laundry.
A place with something soft to lie on
And people who loved her.

“If I were to find a home like that,
I may just explode with happiness,” Dave thought.

Then a man & woman came by.
The woman was very interested in Dave.
Dave wanted to play with them,
But she wanted to look out the window too.

Dave was put back in her cage
Just like always.
But then a strange thing happened.
The man & woman came back.
And they loaded Dave into their car!

Dave loved to ride in cars.
“But where are we going?” Dave wondered.
They took her to a big backyard
Where she sniffed around,
Her orange fluffy tail in the air
And her orange head to the ground.

Then they led her into a building.
The shelter had burned her nose,
Smelling of ammonia & bleach.
But this place smelled. . .homey.

Dave sniffed all over the house
It didn’t seem like any other dogs were here.
She even found some stairs
And climbed up, without any fear.

But there was a problem.
“How will I get back down again?”
No one had ever taught Dave
How to get down the stairs.

She stood there pondering for several long minutes.
Maybe, if I go slow
Putting one paw in front of the other. . .
And next thing you know,
She was downstairs again!

Over the next few weeks,
Dave learned that she loved the stairs!
She could chase a ball up them
And race back down again.

She learned that the man was called Jason
And the woman was called Jennifer.
They would brush Dave & take her for walks.
One night they even all laid
on the thick carpet floor together to nap.

Dave hadn’t been this happy
Since she had been in her puppy pack.
Why, maybe this was some kind of new pack
She could be a part of.

Dave was so happy, she couldn’t contain it.
She felt all her love & all her happiness building inside.
It rose from her tummy & went to her head.
She threw back her neck & opened her mouth,
And “HOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLL” is just what came out.

Jason & Jennifer looked stunned,
“Was that a howl of anger,
Or a howl of happiness?” they asked each other.
But they soon learned it was happiness,
When Dave smiled & howled again.

Dave found her howl that day,
And her forever home too.

THE END

(from the author of Hogwart Discovers Christmas)

Ferocious attack animal!  (Must rub belly to pass)

Ferocious attack animal! (Must rub belly to pass)

Driving Home

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Driving Home
Darkness
Speed
Wind
Radio turned up Loud
My ears dost protest
But my body wants to dance
Belted into a seat in the car
No chance.
Singing at the top of my lungs
The Music drowns out my off-key notes.
Miles & Music
Music & Miles
The Orange Moon watches me
Country road rides like a roller coaster
A shiver down my spine
from the Music, not the wind.
I want my Music to escape out the open windows
And infect others.
I feel young again
I forget that I am not.
Bugs could fly in the open window
try not the think about that.
Close to home
Must turn volume down
Don’t wake the baby.
At a normal volume now
Can barely hear it
Over the ringing in my ears
And the music still playing in my head.
–JLS
7/22-23/13

Let’s End The Week On A Sour Note…

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This was supposed to be included in my post from earlier in the week, Holding A Grudge, but I did not get it added by my self-inflicted deadline. (Future employers, please DON’T take note of that.)

A bit sad; A bit depressing; All true…
One Less Soul
As I drift from hopeless day
to hopeless day,
I cannot help but realize
The world would be a lot better
If I wasn’t here.
There would be one less body
taking up a desk
and filling up the hallways.
One less person
fighting for the computer
or begging for a ride home;
Just one less
copy of a test to hand out,
correct,
and pass back.
I’d be one less
person to shop for at Christmas,
birthday on the calendar,
and phone number on the monthly bill.
One less
owner of a sunflower ponytail holder,
weakling following the strong,
follower of the masses,
and one less person talking,
yet saying nothing…

If I were gone
Nobody would care
I would just be one less
ugly face for people to turn away from.

But most of all
One less soul wasting paper
writing crappy poems.
–JLF (circa 1994)

The Mall (A Poem)

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The Mall

I sit still
And the world rushes past me.
On my right, the people rush North.
On my left, the people rush South.
If I try to watch
I find myself spinning
spinning
dizzy
too many colors
too many faces
too many voices.
All I can do
is wait
until the rush stops
And then sneak away home.
-JLS
5/26/13

I Have Written All My Life (Doesn’t Everybody?)

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I have always written stories or poems, almost all my life. I didn’t realize that not everyone does this. Only recently did it dawn on me.

Does that mean my career calling should be to be a writer? I have been spending 37 years trying to figure out what I should be when I grow up.

Is writing the answer?

"The Worst Snow Storm!" My first book.

“The Worst Snow Storm!”
Commentary:  My first book.

I made my first book a long, long time ago (but in this galaxy). It had a cohesive plot, but questionable spelling choices. You’ll have to excuse that fact–I had no editor, and was only in elementary school myself. It even had characters of varying ethnicities–one family was white, the other was black. That must have been the influence of 1970′s and 1980′s cartoons, which all had a token black character on the cast, because I didn’t even know any African-Americans at that age. The story wasn’t a school project or anything. I just made it all on my own, at home. I was very proud of it, because my mom put it in the scrapbook.

"Bobby Jones and Marty Cargo one day planned to play on that day.  But they had a snow storm." Wow.  Snow's so thick, I can't see a thing!

“Bobby Jones and Marty Cargo one day planned to play on that day. But they had a snow storm.”
Wow. Snow’s so thick, I can’t see a thing!

All through school, I would write stories every chance I could for class assignments. It made an assignment easy for me to complete. I would also write at home, just for myself. I would skip lunch during high school to write in the computer lab (much less chance of getting picked on or having food thrown at you). When I had a big depression my senior year, I became a prolific poet. I took lots of English classes as electives. I took the AP English class, but not the placement exam. I even took a one week summer writing workshop held at a local college.

"They asked their moms'.  Their moms' said, "No! You cannot go out." Smart moms.

“They asked their moms’. Their moms’ said, “No! You cannot go out.”
Smart moms.

One of my favorite teachers was my English teacher. We will call him Mr. C. He also happened to be the adviser for the newly formed school newspaper. I wrote a story or two for it. The next year, I ended up as the Co-Editor, which I actually really enjoyed. It was just kind of a happy accident that I ended up with that position (and because no one else wanted it). It helped to make my college applications not look so naked.

"But they went out anyway far, far away.  And they built a snowman.  While they were building a snowman it started to snow."

“But they went out anyway far, far away. And they built a snowman. While they were building a snowman it started to snow.”

In college I was busy, but I still wrote. During that time, I wrote one of my favorite stories. It is kind of goth. I used poetry at that time to once again get me through depression. I was a Communications major, with an emphasis on Radio and TV Broadcasting. I filled in the gaps between classes for my major and prerequisites with English and Psychology classes. I took so many English classes that the head of the department told me to make it my minor. He let me do an independent study to work on some stories and get a 400-level class on my transcript. (That would be an unfinished story that wasn’t good, and I wish I wouldn’t have wasted time on it.) (I could have minored in Psychology as well, but I didn’t want to have to take a statistics class, which was required to have it be an actual official minor.)

"After they were done with the snowman, they were very, very cold.  They would go home, but it was too far away." Damn, look at those goodsebumps.  They were REALLY cold.

“After they were done with the snowman, they were very, very cold. They would go home, but it was too far away.”
Damn, look at those goosebumps. They were REALLY cold.

My first full-time job, I found other creative-minded types. We read each other’s old stories. We wrote and emailed poems to each other throughout the day. They also were interested in dream interpretation, as I had been for years.

"When Bobby's dad woke up, Bobby's mom told him that Bobby was gone.  And when Marty's dad came home from work Marty's mom told him that Marty was gone." The mom's sure look happy about that.

“When Bobby’s dad woke up, Bobby’s mom told him that Bobby was gone. And when Marty’s dad came home from work Marty’s mom told him that Marty was gone.”
The mom’s sure look happy about that.

Really, the only time I can remember not writing was while my mom was sick. I spent one evening a week doing her grocery shopping for her, two nights doing her laundry, and usually taking her to a doctor’s appointment as well. And I worked 40hrs a week, plus a 2hr daily commute. She about killed me. I didn’t have time to write at that time. I didn’t even have time to think. Even though she got a clean bill of health a few years after she was diagnosed, I was still doing all those errands for her. I had to put an end to it when my son was born. Literally, like 10 minutes after I walked into my house from the hospital.

"So they went out and looked and looked for their boys." Sorry.  Too lazy to rescan.

“So they went out and looked and looked for their boys.”
Sorry. Too lazy to re-scan.

I went back to work after my maternity leave on the exact same day my company filed for bankruptcy. I also went back in a new position (my former lateral position that I had interviewed to get back into had been eliminated while I was off, so I was starting a new lateral position. Got all that?) where I got to work on one of the company’s blogs. It was fun. I found out a co-worker had a personal blog. This peaked my interest. Plus, I could read the writing on the wall. I knew I needed to add some new mad skills to my resume. So, I started this blog, got on Facebook and LinkedIn, and figured out how to actually use my Twitter account.

"They found their boys and picked them up and took them home." Wow, frozen solid.

“They found their boys and picked them up and took them home.”
Wow, frozen solid.

While hanging out at home with my son, I found more time to blog regularly than I would have anticipated having. Regularly publishing posts got me followers. Followers made me try to think up more content. This made me dig out an old story from high school, my only intent being to jazz it up a little, then post it on my blog.

That led to me deciding that I might be able to combine it with more short stories, and do one of those self-publishing dealios.

In 6 months time, that has led to me finishing 2 young-adult (short) novels, and starting a third in the trilogy, with plans for 2 bonus books.

My original goal is to have one self-published by year’s end. I am thinking the writing may be the easiest part of the equation.  I don’t know anything about royalties or percentages or designing book covers, etc.  And at first, well, I thought an e-book would be good enough to fulfill a dream.

But, well, a physical book with a cover with my name on it, filled with words spilled forth from my brain, is so tempting I can taste it. That was my first vision when I made that book out of crayons and pencil.

Trust me, when I get to that point, you will all know. imnotstalkingyou.com will be book-hawking central.

You know, I have also always had a love to art (drawing, painting, photography). Hmmm, maybe that is my real calling…

"They got home and laid their boys down, covered them up, and gave them some soup." This story has been sponsored by Campbell's Soup.  Mmm-Mmm Good.

“They got home and laid their boys down, covered them up, and gave them some soup.”
This story has been sponsored by Campbell’s Soup. Mmm-Mmm Good.

Poetry Time

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AN ENCHANTED BOTTLE AND THE IVORY CUPBOARD
By: JLF
2/28/95

Help Me! Help Me!
I don’t know what’s wrong with me!
What is this strange feeling?
Is it a headache, a stomach ache
A new strain of flu?
Why do I feel this way?
What–wait…
Is this happiness,
is this what it feels like
to be happy?
I don’t have any worries,
And even the worries I can think of
Just don’t seem to bother me
This fine winter evening.
The music from the radio
Seems to flow into me
And through my veins,
Electrifying me and making me glow
all over.
I want to capture this feeling
into an enchanted bottle.
I want to seal it up tight
And lock it away in an ivory cupboard,
Where I can save it
For a dark, hazy day of sadness
When I can take out the bottle
And remember what happiness was like.

I haven’t felt like this in so long
in a sense too far gone from love
That don’t last forever
Something’s gotta turn out right
–”Got Me Wrong” by Jerry Cantrell (Alice in Chains)

[A million thanks to my friend Jill for helping me to identify this song from a pivotal time in my life many years afterwards. How I told her "I am looking for a song with the words 'I haven't felt like this in so long', and she asked me if it was sung by two people, and figured out almost instantly it was Alice in Chains, I will never understand, but I am eternally grateful.]

College Sucked

I always measure my experiences in life to how they would be portrayed on a sitcom. As you might expect, my own experiences often play out much differently than in TV Land. College would be one of these.

College sucked. On TV, everyone is always a joiner who participates in every student activity. They make friends they will have for the rest of their lives. They go to parties. They learn to be deep thinkers. They find their soul mate.

Me? Not so much. I was a commuter with no car for 3 out of my 4 years of college. While waiting for my ride home every day, I had to kill hours in the library. There are only two friends that I made in college that I still keep in touch with.  I never went to a single party.  I am not a natural-born joiner. I joined some sort of academic fraternity that never had any activities just so that I could get a sweatshirt with Greek letters on it. Then I felt self-conscious in it and never wore it.  I submitted some of the depressing poetry I wrote while killing time in the library anonymously to the college literary magazine. They published a couple.

My two closest friends were at two other colleges in two different states. It made for a very lonely time in my life. My best friend came back home after her freshmen year (she HAD found the parties), which was better. But she was attending the university across town, so we never saw each other except at night.

I also had an undiagnosed, then diagnosed, stomach problem during this time as well.  So I felt miserable physically as well as mentally!

It was overall the loneliest year of my life.  I don’t really think I look forward to coming back in the fall.  -JLF 4/27/95

My other friend, my asbestos friend, had an even worse college experience than me. I told her this week how I was going through my old college free-writes to get a true sense of the misery to work on my new story (and this blog post). Her reply?

“I don’t think I could relive that time. I’ve blocked much of it out & I think that’s for the best.”

She has told me a few of her great miserable stories, including being sick with mono and all alone, and donating so much blood for money that she passed out in the parking lot at the donation place. (Those are two separate occasions. I think.) But my favorite story is the one where she takes her life back into her own hands. It’s the story where during her last semester she realizes college is making her miserable and she is an adult. She has her own job and her own place to live. She just leaves the campus and never turns back. She is my hero:)

I did not leave. I stayed, hoping to get my MRS. degree. I only went to college because my mom told me I had to either do that or get a job. I had gone to school for K-12 years. I had never had a job. I picked the option I was familiar with. I should have got a job. Now I have a Bachelor’s Degree and I am applying to entry-level store jobs at Meijer, Cash Advance, and Family Video. And they are not hiring me.

Compilation of 2 No Doubt drawings I made while in college

Compilation of 2 No Doubt drawings I made while in college

I had my first boyfriend for a month my freshmen year. After it ended, from my old writings, I seemed to be lonelier than before.

When I was in high school, I had a few hours after school everyday before my mom got home from work that was my time to myself. In college, I had no privacy. My mom was my ride. If she was home I was home and she drove me nuts. (This is probably the only way my college experience was worse than my asbestos friend’s.) My bedroom didn’t even have a door. I would stay up late to do homework, and find myself watching Beavis & Butthead marathons on MTV instead. I always said that I could feel my brain cells rotting away as I watched that show. I think it helped numb my depression. Then my mom, who always slept on the couch in the living room where the only TV was, would wake up. (Yes, I went to college in the Dark Ages. My college had text-only Internet my freshmen year!) She would ask me,”Are you watching Beaver & Buttface?” I mostly watched it for the music videos, which sucks, because any version released on DVD has only limited music videos. How much did I watch them? Here are a poem and some fan artwork from that time:

Lovin’ the Boys
By: JLF
3/7/95

If I make a video
Can I get on that show?
First I would have to make
A really cool video
You know,
One with lots of guitars,
And riffs, and drums.
I would stumble around
In a really short dress
And scream all the words
Really, really loud.
I would put in some shots
Of farm animals and livestock,
And throw in a toilet
(To give them something to talk about).
Then I would send it to New York,
To that video channel,
And wait every day & every night
For them to put my video on that show.
They could sit there on their couch
In their dirty T-shirts & stinky shorts
And watch my video.
That dark-haired guy and his dumb-blond friend
Could belch and fart
And yell “Fire! Fire!”
Then they would deem my video
As “Cool” or “Sucks”,
By how short my dress was,
How loud I yelled,
And the fact my video had only one
Toilet in it.
But I would be happy
Because I got to see my video,
With one of those yellow, pointy
signs with their names in it
In the corner of the screen.

And that would make it worthwhile. . .

Illustration I made based on a video that Beavis & Butthead mocked.  (My son likes this pic a lot.  Maybe I should be concerned about that.)

Illustration I made based on a video that Beavis & Butthead mocked. (My son likes this pic a lot. Maybe I should be concerned about that.)

I ended up getting an on-campus job, so I started interacting with my classmates a little more. It also got me out of the library. I got paid (!) to wait for my ride. That helped a little.

Then I got a better boyfriend. I couldn’t find him at college, because he was still in high school. (I should have flunked!) Those who know me know he is now my husband.

Then I got an off-campus job too, in addition to those other things. My best friend worked at the convenience store too, and helped me get the job. People who know me know it was one of my favorite jobs. I liked it so well that I saved up my earnings over the summer so that I could buy a car so that in the fall I could keep the job while I finished college. (Most people get a job to get a car. I got a car to keep a job.)

I should become a writer like Erma Bombeck & just write about “stuff”. -JLF (found in an old college notebook)

So, ya, college sucked for me.  I can enthusiastically say that not everyone enjoys themselves at college.  Accept this post and the accompanying writings below as evidence.  Probably the worst time of my life. When my son gets old enough, I don’t know how I will ever be able to keep from talking negatively about it. I kind of feel about it the way I do about the Lord of the Rings films. I want my time and money back. I want my four years and my $18,000 back (I got a lot of scholarships).

Untitled
By: JLF
4/8/95

There’s a party tonight
General Admission – $2
There’s a party tonight
Everyone Welcome
Are you going to the party tonight?
I don’t think they mean me
Are you going to the party tonight?
Everyone would be happier if I didn’t
Everyone’s going
But I am not
Everyone’s going
I’ll stay home and listen
to my own silence.
Sometimes a person
has to look through the thick, black
copier ink lettering
And realize that circumstances
and situations and history
are the things that really predict
who will attend the ball
and who will stay home.

The Driving Rain
By: JLF

It is 9:06PM.  It’s raining.  I have a half a tank of gas.  Will this be the night.  Will this be the night I keep going and don’t look back?

I could change my life right now.  It would be just as easy as changing channels on the television.  I can see all my different options spread out in front of me, and the television channels just keep going.  There is the music video channel, blaring sounds and images.  There is Channel 25.  All Hitler, All the time.  The third reicht of the Chicago area.  Heil!  Channel 25.  Then the weather channel.  Do I want rain or do I want sunshine?  Which road will lead me to what type of weather?

Oh.  I’m on the road back home.  But I still don’t have to go there.  This road is so boring, so familiar.  A person could die on a road like this and the drivers who travel it every day would probably not notice the body for months.  Was the light I just went through green or read, not that it would really mater.  The slick road is completely vacant of other cars.  The only tire marks I can see on the wet pavement are in my rear view mirror.  I could slip out of town now, right out of the city limits.  No one would see me, no one would be the wiser.

God, to just keep driving.  To have no pre-planned destination, no over-analyzed goals—it all sounds like a dream.  For the first time since I walked into Kindergarten on Experience Day and was assigned a seat and pencils and crayons, I would be in charge for myself.  New mothers complain about not having handbooks to care for their new children.  It is too bad they don’t make handbooks for the children, to help figure out what is right for themselves.  I feel like I have never done anything I truly wanted to in my entire life.

One more road until home.  Is this it?  Well, a few times I have done what I wanted.  There was the time I went to the carnival by myself, and I kept playing games until I won a stuffed animal.  But I felt as though everyone was staring at me because I was by myself.  (I am always by myself.  I am at this very moment.)  I got a stuffed animal that day.  But it wasn’t from the guy I flirted with or the games I tried the hardest at.  I got my little stuffed bear from a crooked game and, even though I know that, I still think of him as a lucky charm.

Should someone as naïve as I be roaming around the nation’s highways?  Probably not.

Ahh—I just passed the drive to my house.  But it wasn’t a brave, meaningful decision of symbolism as I had hoped.  I simply got too caught up in my petty thoughts.  But there is always a last refuge of a coward.  I click on my turn signal for the next road, like reflex. I will turn around and make my way back to the same house and my same room.

Tonight—tonight I just couldn’t do it.  Rain can be romantic, but it is also scary.  A half a tank of gas, well, maybe I’ll try it when there is a full tank.  Maybe I’ll try it when I have more courage, or more caffeine coursing through my veins.  Maybe I just need something more to run away from than familiarity.

So, I pull in the same driveway, unlock the same door with the same key, and walk through the living rom.  I flick on the TV without even turning on a lamp, enjoying the flashes of blue that light up the room instead.  I turn on the Weather Channel and see what it will be like tomorrow.

I hate life.
By: JLF
8/96
I hate life. I hate life. Life sucks so bad. My life is just one f***ing blackhole, which I don’t know what that is because I am too lazy & distracted to bother to read my astronomy book to bother to find out what a f***ing blackhole is! And why do I have to come back to f***ing school, which I f***ing hate! I have only had panic attacks while I had to go to school since I was in, like Kindergarten. I HATE SCHOOL! It makes me feel all yucky inside. It makes me feel dark & gloomy inside. It makes me feel like I do when I think about death–> DEATH, how stiffling & cold & lonely & empty it will be. That is what every second at school feels like to me…

Unknown Book Quote (Do YOU Know It?)

At the moment it happened, the first shooting stars were crossing the sky – they were beginning to stream across like strings of jewels flung from another planet – and everyone was watching them. The smaller children were exclaiming in delight, while the older ones stood silent and enthralled. Here on the hill, where the valley people often came to watch the glittering night unfold, you could see the whole magic sweep around you, and you felt close to everything in the heavens. Other people, you knew, were standing on other hills on other worlds, watching even as you watched.

–Unknown (to me)*

Do you know what this quote is from? Oh, of course I KNOW.

I found it in a book I randomly took off the shelf in the middle school library. The paragraph above was the beginning of the book. I thought is sounded so awesome, that I copied it down. And I thought it was so great that I have kept it for all these years.

What book was that?

I don’t know. I didn’t write down the title.

What was the rest of the book about?

I tried to read it, but the rest of the book didn’t live up to that paragraph. So I stopped reading it. Like on page three.

So, you see, in my old age I can see the err of my youth. Even though I still do not intend to ever read the whole book, it would be a nice piece of mind to know WHAT THE BOOK WAS CALLED!!!

Something else kind of bone-headed I have done pertaining to this quote? I have never made another copy of the quote (until now). It is written in red ink on a piece of typing paper (yes, that is what it used to be called in the old days) & then folded up till it was 12th of it’s normal size. Not the easiest to find when you are searching through old boxes of wanna-be witchcraft non-precious gemstones and two filing cabinets containing everything you have written in your life, including elementary school reports.

So, by putting it on my blog, I accomplish two things at once.

1. Maybe someone out there will know what the quote is from (If I find out, I will totally give proper credit on this post).

2. I now have another copy of this quote that I can semi-easily find when I want it.

UPDATE!:  * This has been identified first in the comments by Dane Jackson as being from “The Forgotten Door” by Alexander Key.   Thank you to everyone for reading and helping me!

From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea

In high school junior year (1992–please do not do the  math on my age), I had a class called Issues, which was History and English combined.  I know, it sounds strange and it was strange at the time.  Anyway, in that class there was a kid with a T-shirt on with a poem-type thing on the back.  I kept reading it and liked it, so I copied it down.  I then hung it on my bedroom wall for years and memorized it.  Here is the original sheet of paper it was written on.

Beautiful, unknown lyrics*

Beautiful, unknown lyrics*

For those whose browsers are picky about pictures, here is the text:

…and so we watch the sun come up
from the edge of the deep green sea
and she listens like her head’s on fire
like she wants to believe in me
so I try
put your hands in the sky
surrender
remember
we’ll be here forever
and we’ll never say goodbye. . .*

For years, these were just words I copied off a guy’s T-shirt. There was a Bon Jovi song that had similar lyrics, but these were clearly not from that song. I figured I would never find out where it came from, and I was kind of OK with that.

When I got sick of the crusty yellowing notebook paper on my wall, I decided to make a plaque with the words on it. (I’m just a lil bit crafty;) I wrote all the lettering with a toothpick dipped in black paint. I was pretty proud of myself.

Wooden plaque I made to replace the notebook paper*

Wooden plaque I made to replace the notebook paper*

Then one day at work (October 25, 2000 to be exact), my green-haired friend sent me an email with a Mad Libs type story, using the word “GREEN” and the phrase “THE DEEP DARK SEA” in it. So I typed up my “and so I watch the sun come up…” words to her and hit send.

GHF: whoah that was weird!!!!! you have totally stunned me into silence…. how did you know?

ME: know what?
I got that off some guy’s shirt in high school
I have no idea what it is from–do you?
I memorized it, and I painted it on a wooden plaque:)

GHF: it’s a cure song silly i think you know more than you say

ME: [AM] wore a cure shirt in 92?
I wouldn’t have thought he was into that.
Yah! My mystery is solved:)

GHF: That’s me and [S]‘s favorite song (lyric-wise) called…. “from the edge of the deep green sea” It’s the song that brought us together. he he

ME: That is just too freaky–is that why that one site is called “deep green sea” whoa, it is all falling together:)

GHF: YES!!!!! I KNOW YOU REPEATED THAT LINE TO ME AND I TOTALLY FLIPPED!

Then the email degenerates into me craving Butterfingers. But, you get the idea. It was a MOMENTOUS moment in my life.

My green-haired friend and my crazy friend (not crazy in the head, just crazy fun-wise) both were in love with the Cure, especially at this time in history. They tried to convert me. I was busy listening to Kid Rock’s Devil Without A Cause album daily. While I do own the song “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” by the Cure now, the only Cure song I actually like is “A Night Like This”, performed by Professional Murder Music (see YouTube video below for a taste).

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-xTfUi_q3IWvsnVDYakoqHVgqQXYd-P2
* Song lyrics from “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” by The Cure (Bamonte, Gallup, Smith, Thompson, Williams).

This was a quotation mystery that it only took me eight years to solve.  For a quote that I am still trying to find the source of, come back to read Thursday’s blog.

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