Non-Aristotelian Love
This poem references Brecht's Non Aristotelian drama and Augusto Boal's Theatre of the oppressed. Suffice to say that both dramatic forms envisage a theatre where we do not so much suspend our disbelief and become swept up in a cathartic experience, but one where we tell stories without deluding ourselves. As such this poem is a plea, and a plea in the spirit of Boal's spectactor to both myself and the imagined reader/subject, for a kind of romance that is full of love but free of morbid tragedy. Well maybe a little bit of morbid tragedy, but at the time I wrote it enough was enough.
Non-Aristotelian Romance
All the worlds a stage.
Love is a 12 Gauge.
I stick you up.
Then we get engaged.
Don't get enraged.
I loves ya I loves ya.
I loaves ya I loaves ya.
Bun in the oven.
I up an leaves ya.
Amour amour
Armour armour
Guffaw guffaw
Drama drama.
Do you love me.
Or the story?
When I leaves ya.
Are you jumping off a 12 story.
Am I boring.
Does my sex.
Leave ya snoring.
You're out the door.
I'm crying on the floor.
The other man is rich.
This man is poor.
Are you fo shore.
Are you sailing.
Am I on the shore.
Are you wailing.
Cutting yourself.
Impaling.
Your other self.
Why can't we break.
The fourth wall.
Roll, rattle and shake.
Without a stage at all.
Love ya.
Non Aristotelian
Love ya.
For what you're bein.
This love.
Is a theatre of the oppressed.
Just want to save you.
From being depressed
Cant we put aside
Our adolescent notions.
And face our adult emotions.
So when you run.
Out of self respect.
Ill tap you on the shoulder.
Show you what to expect.
Tell you a story.
You'll never eject.
This shit is a dream.
Or a nightmare.
You're the writer.
Pick your theme.
Forgive me.
For being direct.
If romance.
I dissect.
I can sublimate.
Or get erect.
Somewhere in the middle.
Is self respect.
Am I Romeo.
Are you Juliet.
Are we in love.
Are we there yet.
Suicide pacts.
Are sometimes facts.
Raise the stakes.
The brain reacts.
Check yo self.
Brain full a dopamine.
Mental wealth.
Working in a gold mean.
Are you mine.
Am I yours.
Do we have time.
To go on world tours.
But if I let you.
Let you go alone.
Will you find another.
Another dog with a bone.
We speak on the phone.
I'm alone.
I'm just a man.
You're just a woman.
Is this romance.
Or traumance.
Why all the drama.
Cant we just dance.