D. B. DEVILLIERS

Poetry

Category: Poetry

October 18, 2018

On Memory

Occurred to me the day before yesterday
all the clever things I’ve ever said
all the things I’ve said that made me feel clever
made me feel smart, made me feel good
made me feel a little happy or a little satisfied for
a little while at least
I can’t remember
not one of them
but every single stupid remark I’ve ever made
that made me wish almost even before I’d said anything that
I could just right then sink into the soil and cease to exist
those things
episodic
perfect fucking recall
and not just that
I don’t even have to recall them at all
they come back to me with great frequency all on their own
and this is pretty banal as far as revelations go
probably everyone has the same problem
but since I’ve only ever been but one person
I don’t know what other people feel
but for me I have to think this speaks to
the way my brain must prioritize
making me feel like shit over not making me feel like shit
after all, if memorability is a measure of emotional power
which I figure it must be one, if not the best one, if not the only one
then seems like shame and regret rate a good bit higher
on my recollective register
than just about anything good
which sounds about right

this realization in that moment made me feel pretty smart
pretty good about myself
pretty clever
so I figured I’d better write it down or surely
I’d forget it entirely.

Leave a comment
October 18, 2018

Pictures Of Paintings

I am the petty god of my
particular lacking happiness, apathy
all the nice words I can use to
dress up pretty much nothing
I can hear them echo but the words don’t echo it’s sad
I think it’s sad how there was only ever but one way
and I guess we’re all just postponing it as long as we can
least if we’re lucky we are ourselves postponing
least if we’re real lucky it’s been decided by
someone else or something
or it’s just decided to remain undecided
it doesn’t matter what which way and we
step onstage to dress it up in colorful words maybe because
it makes us feel a little less awful
since it isn’t pretty or picturesque any more than is the
buckshot-interrupted aggregate grey matter spent
of artists failed and not, vexed to senseless lurid portrait painting
instant printed Jackson Pollock spray of crimson plasma
sulfur scented, boards behind the means congealed as time befits
photos lit in frame fluorescent greyscale selling papers
editors’ captions, name worth recognizance says someone
suicide says someone, maybe sadder than anything maybe
thereby might could coronate, apotheosize
a handful of willfully dead men
but that’s a lie because it doesn’t, not that
never that
but then again even god might paint the drywall with both barrels if he could
after all if I were him I would.

Leave a comment
September 27, 2018

Advice, Unsolicited

Whether it gets better or not I won’t speak to yet
but I know for a damned fact it doesn’t get easier
but you do get better at dealing with it
you get a little more used to it
and of course it never really goes away
if they’d told me that at seventeen I guess I’d likely be dead
so if you’re seventeen maybe don’t read this but
I’ve learned a few things since then
even if sometimes I can’t even remember them myself
and one thing I’ve learned is that even if you live
for a hundred years
you’re alive a very short time
and you’re dead a very long time
so better make what you can of being alive
you’ve got to try
every once in a while even
just a little bit even
you’ve got to try
you’ve got to.

I’m of the opinion that those who give advice are usually
telling others to do what they themselves
didn’t do

that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

Leave a comment
September 25, 2018

Youth

It’s amazing how these things could happen so often
that preprinted cards exist expressly for descriptive purposes
issued casually
and it’s proof that there is no god
or if there is a god at least then it’s proof that
he and the devil are one in the same
that caskets can be built
so small.

Leave a comment
August 17, 2018

Apologies Without Apologies

How many times how many
ways can I say
I can’t do it
how much more emphatically should I have insisted
and I never meant to hurt you
I really didn’t
but I guess that doesn’t mean I didn’t do it
does it.

Leave a comment
August 4, 2018

Alleviative Measures, Primarily Liquor

I guess then I’m going to
drink until I can’t stand or
at least drink until I
can’t stand it anymore
or more likely both
and then I’ll get there
and then I’ll get there again and
again and again and
I’ll have gotten somewhere and then
I won’t really remember where so
why not do it again maybe
next time I’ll remember where
it was I got to last time or
next time or whenever I guess
when doesn’t matter much I think
I’m gonna go ahead and
have another
drink.

I think I might even write a poem about it.

 

Leave a comment
July 27, 2018

Suits With Shotguns

They kicked in the front
door they broke in the
windows they were waiting
out back they were
waiting out back where
you fled out back and
it wasn’t a pistol in
your hand but they
thought it was they’re just doing
their jobs of course who could
fault them for that and
they got you six
times double aught
buck you didn’t go
quietly turns out your
aunt came down and wasn’t
sure since there wasn’t
much left to go on with
much certainty but a DNA
match off a comb and
they matched it and
she didn’t cry but
she did raise you from four years
old and she
did put a bullet in
her head
it was a sad story
and I can’t tell it worth
a fuck.

Leave a comment
April 23, 2018

Shouting

I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m shouting
I don’t know if you know this but
I’m trying this is a
new town a new place a new outlook a new
poem new eyes new this is a new car
this is new
this is an attempt
this is effort
this is killing me
this is slow death
this is me subverting a stereotype
this is where I do that
this is where I actively show weakness to people I don’t know
these are the problems of a man you wouldn’t like
this is how you ink a fountain pen
this is killing me
this is how you finish a liter of liquor in one short sitting
this is how you lose your mind
this is how
you can trust me I ought to know
this is how you think you’re worth it
this is how you write stilted verses on your
phone at three thirty in the
morning this is how many
milligrams you take and this
is how much you drink afterwards to
feel like at least tonight your
blood pressure probably won’t
rupture your eyes this is how you
take a deep breath and come back into
lower orbit this is how you think you’re
not batshit for a fleeting fucking
instant this is how you meet
new people this is how you
embarrass yourself this is
how you justify it this is how you
become unconscious
this is how you derive hope
this is how you lose your mind
this is how
this is killing me
I don’t know if you
can hear me but I’m
shouting.

It’s not so bad as it sounds.

Leave a comment
April 13, 2018

Clever

The world’s fucked up
never really been up for dispute
but I doubt the world’s got much to do with it
if I’m fucked up
and I’m glad for that
it really is nice not starving
but isn’t it weird the way
easy life can be so goddamned hard
and here I hate my petty problems and I hate my stillborn failures
I hate my weakness and my fear and my anger and my hate
and I really fucking hate these clever little contradictory life paradoxes about
how ease is somehow difficult
I really do
which is a shame because I think I’m pretty good at coming up with them
used to amuse me but anymore they’re mostly
kind of cruel
all cute and succinct
an ego thing, maybe, like some very mild targetless sort of bullying—
I invite you to imagine me
sitting at a desk
in a room
anno domini twenty and eighteen
slamming right the carriage return lever after that line
cold coffee, stale cigarette smoke
smug little self-satisfied smile
being clever
being really clever

I bet you can see it
it’s been an easy image to cultivate, really
I just tell everyone I meet I’m a writer and that’s that
carry around a little notebook, never use it
mispronounce the names of philosophers misquoting books I’ve never read
probably thinks he’s lost, broken, unfit, unique just like everyone else
and no shit he just did it again with the paradoxes
can’t even help himself I bet
only he didn’t come up with that one himself
got it from a movie or a TV show or something
ah plagiarism old friend glad to see you glad to
and but wait was he trying to make some kind of cogent point here?
I’m not sure
but I feel better now
paper’s cheap
and anyway
I wrote this on a screen.

Leave a comment
February 3, 2018

Eighteen Words (Of Course It Isn’t Enough)

You left no note
but the rope
didn’t know
it was a cry
for help
and it held.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry it was you. I’m sorry it was anyone. If there were something I could have done, I wish I’d have done it. I hope there’s some peace to be found over there. I hope you’ve found it.

I really hope.

2 Comments