entry ~ dirty fingers

(February, 2012: Working on indexing/categorizing pieces I've blogged. Transferring this piece from my once-public blog, versions.)

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November 26, 2009

Am I able to look at the rawness?  Am I able to strip away analogy?  Am I able to disregard the noble in the savage that is me?

Can I articulate the rage I've felt; the desire for revenge? What of the back and forth love-hate relationship?  How can an online forum get so deep under my skin that it caused such extreme internal responses?

I became so very outraged regarding my experiences at Greasespot Cafe.  There was a time I felt an almost hatred for the place, the administrator, certain moderators, and certain posters.  But mainly toward the administrator.

I have partial answers, I think, to some of my questions posed above.  I don't know how often us humans really have "whole" answers.  It seems as soon as we think we 'know' something, the rules or the game or the vehicle or the scenery changes.

Some of the rage was most likely displaced; some was "justified."

Dirty Fingers was prompted by the rage I felt toward one of the well-respected posters at GSC. This rage was partially justified; if rage can be justified.  Of course I never shared it with the person; don't know if I ever will.  Maybe someday, if I ever communicate with them, we can converse about it.  And maybe not.

Perhaps the poem gives a glimpse of the seethe.

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Dirty Fingers

Hypocrite!
You point Your fingers
righteously at the sins
of the past of others.

Yet, what of
the repercussions
in my life
because You "willingly and willfully
sacrificed upon the altar of
Your idols?"

Perhaps You offered others
of which You are unaware?
That's the key, isn't it;
You were beguiled.
I guess that makes it justifiable,
for You.

I spoke;
my voice was dismissed.
Your spiritual prowess
took precedence.
Shortly thereafter,
my life spiraled.

And You have the
audacity to self proclaim
Your righteous acts,
condemning a man
who graciously shed tears
helping to redeem my own.
Nor am I the only one.

Does Your pureness and
holy assessments
allow no room for error?

Go fuck Yourself.
Then get Your own
god-damned abortion;
spend the next three decades
struggling for breath.

If there's a hell
I'll see You there,
and I shall laugh.

Bring Your oxygen.....


july 20, 2oo8
judithpiper