Alone in the dark

[Erthona]

.

I faced my demons one by one,
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality.

Death and his side-kick panic
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagraves
where my dad would drive from home to work and back.
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos.

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did,
she was suppose to be there to support him
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart.

She wasn’t suppose to die
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy.
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid.

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic,
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice.
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds.

©2012 –Erthona

[Leanne]

Great to see you back, Dale

I'm halfway through sorting breakfast so forgive my brevity, but I couldn't leave this without saying something.

.

I faced my demons one by one,
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality.

Death and his side-kick panic -- should Panic have a capital letter?
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology -- nice
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagraves
where my dad would drive from home to work and back. -- great extension of the simile, launching into nostalgia
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos. -- not in the coffee I hope!

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did, -- supposed
she was suppose to be there to support him -- supposed to be... or should have been
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart. -- painful stanza with an ironic touch that's very well done

She wasn’t suppose to die
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy. -- meaningless or unneeded, one or the other I'd say
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid. -- and the Duke could teach Chuck Norris a thing or two about toughness... pfft... Chuck Norris... anyway, good image

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic, -- is "today" really needed?
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice. --the line would survive without "due to"
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds.

©2012 –Erthona

Really heavy stuff, Dale, and a rewarding read.

[tectak]

.

I faced my demons one by one,welcome back,dale. You seem to have been in a bad place if this is the result. I am not convinced that there is veracity in this stanza. The counterpoint to banishing demons being facing your own mortality does not hang straight.
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality....and to and to my discomfort I cannot get the flow. If there is a reason for the random peregrination I can usually see it and sometimes I even understand it. Not this time. S1 hard to read.....that is all

Death and his side-kick panicneeds a comma after kick to turn panic into a noun otherwise it is a verb
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagravethis line seems hasty, lazy or unedited. How do I scan/pronounce hwy 180?
where my dad would drive from home to work and back.
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”they were mexicans or they were not mexicans. What are "Mexicans"?
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos. great imagery. feel the heat, smell the coffee, taste the jalapenos....fuck the rhythm.

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did,
she was suppose to be there to support him
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart.

She wasn’t suppose to die
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy.
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid.

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic,
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice.
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds.

©2012 –Erthona
[

Now lookey here. We are open season for terse verse and I am terrified. I just need to know what is fact and what is not. This is dialogue for a shrink. Nothing wrong with that but a shrink I ain't....hell, I'm only an'umble crit!
convince me it's poetry and I'll be back!
Best,
good you are here again,
tectak

[Leanne]

We are open season for terse verse and I am terrified.

I think your definition of "terse" differs quite a bit from mine... just sayin'...

Dale, on re-reading post-coffee, I think you can do away with the first stanza entirely.

[billy]

hi Dale, great to see you back.

.

I faced my demons one by one, a little too cliche for a 1st line
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality. the stanza as a whole does work. i think, no i'm sure i've been in this place myself on more than one occasion.

Death and his side-kick panic feels a bit trite and a little unrealated, it could be solved by adding 'the thought of' at the beginning.
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagraves
where my dad would drive from home to work and back. a long sentence when used without any grammar
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos. great image

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did,
she was suppose to be there to support him
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart. I think the stanza needs to allow the reader little respite. a god stanza nonetheless

She wasn’t suppose to die supposed
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy.
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night one panic too many
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid. pretty palpable stuff

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic,third panic
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now. no nits

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice.
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds. not sure this lines needed or adds to the poem

©2012 –Erthona

an emotional ride. full of depth and feeling. some good insights, some great images. apart from three panics and a couple of death's i have nothing more than a few nits to show.

i really can identify with the poem, whether factual or not it has truth in it. the title works more than well and sort of acts as aq hook, i went back to it and thought about it (the title) really good write.

thanks for the read.

[tectak]

We are open season for terse verse and I am terrified.

I think your definition of "terse" differs quite a bit from mine... just sayin'...

Dale, on re-reading post-coffee, I think you can do away with the first stanza entirely.

No. We both use terse to mean sparse, pithy laconic. It doesn't change its meaning when put before "verse" but I left out the hyphen. In this piece dale hits the reader with short, sharp jabs..,almost every line has a point or two within. As Often is the case with dale I find it hard to take breath between the pummeling thoughts. The reason I used the terse verse criticism should have been more clearly tongue in cheek because the thing is terse per point but has too many points. I am up for killing off a few but remain unsure of the veracity of the piece. It changes things for me if true.
...just saying......
Best,
tectak

[penguin]

I'd second Leanne's suggestion about removing the first verse.
Death and his sidekick panic - that would be a great start. The 2nd verse is very good. I'd make it one long sentence

where my dad would drive to work and back home
from the chemical plant where the “Mexicans” - do you need the quotes?

and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart

The lines above are great, poignant, childlike.

I'd reverse the order in these lines:
Emotional raw meat wondering if this was it
at every chest muscle twinge - and maybe lose "being afraid" at the end of the verse.

Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.

But "Knowing" what? Again, it feels like the statements should be reversed.

The best of the poem is in verses 2 and 3. I felt it went on a little too long at the end.

Ray

[Erthona]

Thanks guys. All of the typo catches I think are correct are correct. Yes it's supposed to be! It's one that gets by me often.

I'll come back and answer more in depth, but I 'll go ahead an answer a couple of Tom's, as several relate to colloquialisms. Hwy 180, is pronounced as Highway one-oh-eight. Also they are "Mexicans" just as people from the USA are "Americans" in certain locals. The quotes denote a certain connotation related to certain aspects of character not always associated with nationality.

"The counterpoint to banishing demons being facing your own mortality does not hang straight."

A matter of opinion. To me, an acute awareness of ones mortality, and thus impending death is the biggest psychological demon one can struggle with. Pretty much most of Hemingway's writing dealt with trying to overcome ones fear of death by confronting it. Death is a paradox in that it is on the one hand incomprehensible, and on the other as intimate as a wet tongue in the ear. Stanza one is more of a preface to the poem, as it foreshadows what is to come, and also sets the primary thesis to be dealt with. It also makes the points that any arrogance the speaker mat have had at one time due to conquering his demons exists no more. It also acknowledges that the solution to this death problem will have to come from something more than himself, as well as drawing the parallel between the speaker and the father both sharing this same weakness. That is to say, they are both only small boys whistling at the dark in order to keep their courage up. This to me is a matter endemic with men in western society, that is the inability to admit the panic and overpowering fear when confronted with death and the absolute weakness and ego deflation this engenders, and it is only through the female side that the male may be guided to a workable solution so that the fear and panic does not come to dominate his life. It is not surprising that men rarely last long past the death of their wives, yet women seem quite capable of continuing on with their spouse.

It may be quite possible that as Leanne says that this stanza (1) could be done away with completely, however I do feel that it has certain merits that maybe you have overlooked, or not understood. Please however, rebut me as you will, I am quite capable of getting attached to something that serves no useful function, and if that is the case I will be more than happy to excise it.

Have to run now. I will come back and address your comments in more details. Oh yes, Billy thank you for pointing out multiple "panics", I quite agree it is an over usage.

Dale

[billy]

it's just seriously good to see you back on the boards

[braggman]

I faced my demons one by one,
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality.
The tense I think should be changed if you keep the stanza. "have faced" "seen them"... "Mental magic" does give the endearing tone to set you as a child, but we get it agin later. Perhaps if you want to keep an introduction we might have a stanza approaching the subject as the child rather than the man who survived from the child.

Death and his side-kick panic
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagraves
where my dad would drive from home to work and back.
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos.
The stanza does establish the father as tough and working class. It does establish a location for both of you but there is an uneasy emotional jumping about in tone. Death is serious business but sidekick is flippant in tone. Death does more than blow through "psychology." "Psychology" is an impersonal description of impact. "Illusions" or "hopes" are more personal words, and even a child takes death personally. The details of the location are not personal either... numbers and two names. The quotes on the Mexicans removes us one step further to the poet parenthetically commenting on social bias just for one word. Even the concrete details of the coffee and peppers is describing a further group of characters wandering in. I wish the whole stanza to be more about the individuals, more endearing.

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did,
she was suppose to be there to support him
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart.
I think we get a bit more personal in the tone here (not as much as I would hope) but the last line is certainly excellent.

She wasn’t suppose to die
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy.
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid.
I think this stanza should start with you, your emotion since you have already established her accidental death. "I couldn't help him..." is a stronger opening and sets a good contrast to the ringing final line of the previous. Then I would replace the "meaningless and unneeded" The lines could run something like " She wasn't supposed to die/ senselessly, from an unneeded hysterectomy." Then back to you "What did I..." The back-and-for the gives some tension to two movements that are a bit flat and matter-of-fact on their own. Speaking of hyphens, John-Wayne-tough needs them to clear the ambiguity that is otherwise present.

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic,
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.
"Dark of night" is a tired idiom, especially to wake in. Maybe some sort of tactile adjective or ominous adjective for the night. "knowing" also glosses over a lot of life lived in the presence of death. I'd drop the word altogether or expand with one or two lines that describe how you are like him... to draw a parallel. Then the simple statement "I am no more able.." takes on some of the power of helplessness like a child.

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice.
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds.
"Mantra" is a projection of the poet's speech onto their world. Parents in this time and place would have a "whispered prayer" or a "loving phrase," but mantra puts me into the body of a man at a desk thinking about parents. I get the idea of being endearing again, but "magic ether juice" shoots me back out of the poem once more. If you must, then "magic ether" is enough. The last line also needs "from" at the beginning to make the phrasing less archaic. The stanza is good, but not really as strong as the middle. Stealing from the leg for the heart is stealing the thunder for the middle and is setting me to believe that you are going to have a solution of some sort, or an idea that will allow a mental refuge that allows us to take courage from you. It doesn't go there. In all it is touching, but you seem to have an emotional detachment that makes me feel that you are holding back... that you feel a lot more strongly about this, but you aren't going to share that with us.