Been A While by Ian Gordon Galbraith

Here’s a slice of my life:

There’s a super moon tonight with an eclipse and I’m hoping we can see it but I love you enough to hold you close and then also to let you go.  I don’t pimp a butterfly, you know?  There is so much to write about.  the junkers next door who gave the dog urn that you use as an elegant ash tray even though it usually stands proudly on your desk like some grim chalice of unknown power.  There is the time we found the dog and we almost adopted him but his mother came and took him away.  Was that symbolic>  I hope not.  I like you.  You make me nervous.  It’s the best.  People have started photographing me, us, I don’t know what it is or what’s up but it keeps happening.  usually in coffee shops.  Doesn’t seem fair, shouldn’t that be a safe space?  People are strange.  I am a lover.  I am fighting desire and oppression I am practicing detachment but I love you all too much to give you up.  Is this the beginning of something or will my life finally end.  I’m twenty-five, they say I’m just starting but than again, I feel so much older than I used to.  It’s disgusting how much I miss you.  I’m never angry anymore but sometimes I don’t feel like… still I won’t give in you know?  I’ve yet to sit down and write.  I get poems out, or spit songs that could one day be good yet right now they still are doing the whole semi- sucking thing.  And I think about all of you back home and I wonder what you are going through, is everything alright in San Diego and Orange County?  Is LA being kind to you?  Will Newport make you feel satisfied and whole after a lifetime of insecurity and depression?  Does the spectrum pay you enough for the lifestyle you like to live?  It seems like you are always spending.  Mangos and ice cream, beauty products, cocaine.  Always the cocaine.  And then there’s you in west Hollywood and you out in north Hollywood and you out in Inglewood suddenly and finally maybe leaving for good?  Are you out?  Are you leaving?  Jack be quick, jack be nimble, I love you too.

What can I say what can I do?  I left my native land and went to the north to fight against something.  Capitalism?  Convention?  Maybe I’m still just at war with myself.  Hopefully not at war with love, feeling it, feeling fine, so good, so good, so good, almost, yes, divine, divine, amazing, ecstasy…. please let me be the only one for you.  But I forgive you if I am not enough.  It is enough.  I can stay here, I can move on, I can do both I can do nothing, let me sing you a song.  I can get better I will get better, don’t let me do no wrong.  Tomorrow when I wake up, let me be a better one.  Godspeed you me, godspeed you you.  I should capitalize more.  God is watching.  God is me, God is you, I am God, I am Buddha, I can do anything.  Those words from a cancerous professor who pretty much just hated me.  Said I tried to hard.  I tried to kill myself but not hard enough.  I am still alive and I always will be but you’ve got to outlive me because I really love you.  Do you get it?  Don’t give up.

Goodnight

Ian Gordon Galbraith

grubbing hard

grubbing hard

your dirty finger’s claw concrete screaming

fuck the system and fuck everything

I want to go home but nowhere is home 

and everywhere the grubbing fingers

desperation, sorrow and death

incompletion emptiness and lack of hope 

kill me now I can’t see my road home.

There is no road home.

I’ve been beaten and robbed

slipped into comas and crashes 

crashing on cars on cars driving into me

pinning me to the street and laughing

laughing because look at me

I am an insect and nothing I do matters

And the car rolls over my elbow 

and the tires stop in time

the rubber resting on my head 

fuck everything–

the pain is worse than any i’ve felt 

grubbing hard

crawling over concrete

screaming I can’t move

my arm–

so help me dark fucking god in the evil glaring heavens!  

The bastard has crushed my arm

dirty fingers clawing concrete

grubbing hard

heaven is out to get me

Subtle Tensions

Old lady sorta leered at me.
You use that one-
Then she beats me with a stick
That one!

I was trying to win
To run fast
But in the end
Lost me self

Like death
With silence
Treated silence
So the gloom thickens

And in the dark
Subtle tensions

Whatever

Despondency strikes
Cause I’m broke
And I gotta pay rent
At the first of the month
But not move in till the twelve
It’s a tricky situation
A little squeeze
I read Fitzgerald
And dream of bullshit problems
Like husbands and wives
Chivalry and lies
And at least I know
I could never care about that shit
I’d rather see the seas turn red
And watch the skies go gold
And see a thousand sunset on mushrooms
Then worry whether I’m a good doctor
I let someone else worry if they’re a good doctor
I’m sort of
I’m sort of free
But I’m trapped
I guess I have to eat
And I still need somewhere to sleep
But I don’t have to worry if my kids will hate me
It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks
It seriously stops thinking
When I start thinking
Then I’m gone
So this despondency
It does not become Me
It takes Me
And then I’m gone
But then I’m free