On Sparkly Eyeliner

[DoReMi]

In sparkly eyeliner and muddy boots,
My mouth can stretch into a grimace, my cheeks can ache
from smiling, sting from crying.
I can scream
Until my scratchy throat gasps love songs,
I can fight and shout,
Or fight and whisper.
I can fuck men and fuck women,
Or lose breath at brush of fingers, holding hands
Breathe someone else's air,
Distracted by plum pallettes on plump lips,
Strong arms, soft stomachs, curves and angles, curls.
I can sing in the shower.
I could've danced (or not) all night.
Lascia chio piange e che sospiri la libertà.
Or else I'm free at last, floating on moon rivers in the rain.
And the odds are in my favour,
Or tomorrow is another day.
And I am David, or in David's story.
Living in green gables; yes I said yes I will Yes.
I can see clearly while the rain is here, or not
when it's gone.
And find Macavity, but not Alaska.
I contain multitudes
But these are not contradictions.


Ok, so in posting this poem, I feel I owe an explanation. I visited this forum once, a month or two ago, freaked out after posting a first poem, and disappeared. I've spent the time in between trying to build up some confidence so I can participate in this community properly, because before I really didn't! So, I hope you can all give me a new chance! This is a poem I wrote while in love with life, but infuriated by the constructed hierarchies of value attached to the cultural expressions I love... I hope you like it! (P.S. I know it's ridiculously referential/intertextual... I swear I'm not trying to be T.S. Eliot before even learning to write! English student woes...)

Edited version:
In sparkly eyeliner and muddy boots,
My mouth can stretch into a grimace, and my cheeks ache
from smiling, sting from crying.
I can scream
Until my scratchy throat rasps love songs,
Fight and shout,
Or fight and whisper.
I can fuck men and fuck women,
Or lose breath at brush of fingers, holding hands
Breathe someone else's air,
Distracted by plum pallettes on plump lips,
Strong arms, soft stomachs, curves and angles, curls.
I can sing in the shower.
I could've danced (or not) all night.
Lascia chio piange e che sospiri la libertà.
Or else I'm free at last,
And the odds are in my favour,
Or tomorrow is another day.
And I am David, or in David's story.
yes I said yes I will Yes.
I can see clearly while the rain is here, or not
when it's gone.
And find Macavity, but not Alaska.
I contain multitudes
Not contradictions.

[Leanne]

I like intertext (but mostly hate Eliot, go figure!). You've blended ideas together quite well to create an overall mood of defiant individuality that still identifies itself against cultural markers. I would probably be tempted to re-title as I'm not a fan of titles and first lines matching up -- and I do like the first line.

The biggest problem is wordiness. For example, "My mouth can stretch into a grimace, my cheeks can ache" could easily be condensed to "My mouth can stretch into a grimace and my cheeks ache", as the "can" is implied by saying it only once in the line.

Lungs gasp, scratchy throats should rasp I think.

I think the moon rivers line is a quote too far. It seems very laboured. Similarly the Green Gables line. The last three lines are very good though, they should definitely stay (damn that Macavity!)

[DoReMi]

In sparkly eyeliner and muddy boots,
My mouth can stretch into a grimace, and my cheeks ache
from smiling, sting from crying.
I can scream
Until my scratchy throat rasps love songs,
I can fight and shout,
Or fight and whisper.
I can fuck men and fuck women,
Or lose breath at brush of fingers, holding hands
Breathe someone else's air,
Distracted by plum pallettes on plump lips,
Strong arms, soft stomachs, curves and angles, curls.
I can sing in the shower.
I could've danced (or not) all night.
Lascia chio piange e che sospiri la libertà.
Or else I'm free at last,
And the odds are in my favour,
Or tomorrow is another day.
And I am David, or in David's story.
yes I said yes I will Yes.
I can see clearly while the rain is here, or not
when it's gone.
And find Macavity, but not Alaska.
I contain multitudes
But these are not contradictions.

Ok, I've altered it slightly. I want to keep the Molly Bloom reference, because I think I need the ultimate high brow Ulysses to contrast with the low brow Hunger Games in order to make the point that "high brow" and "low brow" are meaningless constructs. Likewise, I kept one of the Big River lines, though I take your point about the slight excess of the Moon River quote. Does this read better? (Also, as per forum rules, do I need to change it in the first post too?)

(You're right about the title, but I'll need to have a think to come up with something better! I could just call it Complexity?)

[softlyfalling]

My first image was of a little girl playing dress up and marching around in the rain puddles in an act of childish defiance. (and I liked her) But, wow..she grew up fast and hard in the next few lines. Why do I still sense her, inside of the woman she shelters in? I think it may be the near tantrum proportions of the defiance, the unkempt anger and the need to justify herself with literary references. I still like her.

[Leanne]

Yes, definitely better. If you wanted a little bit more of a word play, you might try "Complexion" for the title.

[DoReMi]

My first image was of a little girl playing dress up and marching around in the rain puddles in an act of childish defiance. (and I liked her) But, wow..she grew up fast and hard in the next few lines. Why do I still sense her, inside of the woman she shelters in? I think it may be the near tantrum proportions of the defiance, the unkempt anger and the need to justify herself with literary references. I still like her.

I like this a lot. I think that so much of adult anger comes from the child's "it's not faaaaair" impulse. Especially a lot of the anger in this poem. But there's love there too - I like to think the literary references come from love.

Yes, definitely better. If you wanted a little bit more of a word play, you might try "Complexion" for the title.

Being very slow, I'm not sure I understand the pun in "Complexion"... Sorry to be dim!

[tmanzano]

I have many gay friends. Grew up in the 80's in night clubs. I would see my confused pre-teen friends agry at love and love to be misunderstood. I do not know why I see a drag prostitute in love with hating her/himself. Incomprendido la libertà. Magnifico. Now the title of "Complexion" seems to work for me just fine...

Dig it...

---

My first image was of a little girl playing dress up and marching around in the rain puddles in an act of childish defiance. (and I liked her) But, wow..she grew up fast and hard in the next few lines. Why do I still sense her, inside of the woman she shelters in? I think it may be the near tantrum proportions of the defiance, the unkempt anger and the need to justify herself with literary references. I still like her.

I read your post after posting my reply/comment... We seem to have an intersecting thought here. We see the same person.