May 6, 2008

• ElectricPoetry Post: New transcriptions from 1978

  

  The Cathy Poems: New Transcriptions from 1978

  All these poems were written in October through December 1978 for Cathy, and are part of the few poems which have not yet been transcribed to the 1978 section on the ElectricPoetry website, so this is the first time they have been presented online. I fell in love with Cathy at the age of 25, and I wrote her 60 poems in order to win her heart, which didn’t happen. These are among the last of the poems I wrote for her.

   

  “Secrets”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  Sept. 26, 1978 7:00 p.m. pdt

  There’s a kind of a person I’d like to know
  The kind with whom you share secrets
  The kind you know you can trust
  And the kind who respects
  Your privacy.
  I’ve looked for 25 years
  And no one have I found
  With whom I can share my secrets
  So I don’t know how it’s done
  And I share my secrets
  With everyone

  I think I’ve found a kind of person
  The kind with whom you share secrets
  The kind you know you can trust
  And the kind who believes
  in you
  I’ve been looking a long long time
  And if it’s true that it is you
  Then you can trust me with your secrets
  And I can learn how it is done
  With just you I’ll share my secrets
  Not ever
  anymore
  anyone.

   

  “Untitled XII”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  October, 1978 7:00a.m. pst

  I guess I was wrong
  and I should stop fighting
  We were never meant to be

  But I’ll tape my heart
  And brave the world
  Tho’ emotion pours a sea

  I still feel a love
  So deep and so close
  Though you can’t try anymore

  I knew long ago
  I would lose the game
  I’m afraid to look at the score

  You can turn me off
  And say good bye
  And turn the other way

  But hope holds on
  And it cries for you
  Cause it’ll always be that way

  Everyone knows
  What I feel for you
  And why I’ll cry new tears

  And I hope you gained
  A little something at least
  To last you through the years

  The poems won’t stop
  You can’t help but inspire
  You always did that to me

  But I guess I was wrong
  As you pointed out
  Quite emphatically

  I always said
  I only wanted
  What was best for you, my dear

  And I’ll heed your advice
  Not try to love you so hard
  But it’ll be a long road, I fear

   

  “Thanksgiving Thoughts”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  Thanksgiving, Nov. 23, 1978 12noon pst

  What is wrong? he asks again
  As if the ball is always fumbled, and nobody can win
  Who controls the situation?
  Is there someone who monitors infatuation
  Why can’t I “thank you for you” once more
  I care, I’m just too moody; I can’t cope
  I cleaned the apartment. Who was that for?
  Next I might give up the dope.

  You smiled and you said, “everything’s all right.”
  I broke down and said “force me to hate you.”
  “Give me an answer. Show me something to fight”
  And I try and I try to berate you.

  I just can’t be patient, I guess, my dear
  I don’t want to scare you away
  Calm my shaking hand, erase all my fear
  Cast off my sense of decay

  I try to much to understand
  Why you make every move that you make
  I’m ashamed that I feel bad
   when you take my hand
  Cause I’m feeling the future’s at stake

  What is wrong? he asks again
  I always make too much of a din
  I scream and I cry. I’m a selfish fool
  And I know I want to break every rule
  But I’ll wait – I’m your puppet
   you hold the strings
  I will try only to savor what little you bring.

  
  “Mended Still Screaming”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  Dec. 20, 1978 7:00p.m. pst

  The arms enfold the essence of emotion and squeeze
   yet nothing holds the pain nor yearning
  The arms cross defeated above the breast
  Heart beating faster in a skipping time
  You’ve said many things and you wonder
  What words would win – which phrases were perfect
  On what wasted paragraphs did you spend so much time
  The eyes close and tighten
  Her face looked like – on that night – when
  When –
  Exploratory groping eyes to the head
  When – “those darting eyes” – remember

  The words disappeared in the slush
  After last night’s rain cleared the air
  Remembrances are holy – and wholly false
  I can never say “I know what you are feeling.”
  You never know people no matter what you think.

  The wrist turns out another torrent of
  ink-stained papers – poetry – “heart-imaginings”
  The broken heart is mended still screaming
  “I love her, I love her – It’s so strong.”
  You wait with your hand – the same one
  which wrote the poetry – poised
   over the telephone receiver
   Do I dare call -
    just to know
     what she is thinking
  No- heartaches can come on her time
  She always feels so good giving them anyway.

  The mind remembers all it wanted to say
  But the words won’t come out the same
  Tears take too long in coming – and were they
   really for her or for you?
  Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?

  No one knows how I feel
  Not even her
  And I wish I knew how to explain it
  I wish I could explain her actions
  Her feelings – I wish

  Remember when it meant something?
  Remember when she became afraid
  And locked you out of her life forever

  You’d be mad at anyone else
  (Even your friends chide you)
  The broken heart is mended still screaming
  “I love her, I love her – It’s so strong.”

  
  “A Portrait”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  12-20-78 7:15p.m. pst

  Dear Cathy, I may not be the only one
   enraptured by your charms
  Sweet one, there might be hundreds hurt
   with your innocent harm
  I hear you sighing, pray to God, why
   are you like you are
  But no one answer, and solutions
   seem so very far

  Emerging unscathed, never -
  Every little wound inflicts great pain
  You continually ask why people have to get hurt –
  You know you are lucky – but you are not
  As long as you hold others dear
  - Real life taught you nothing
  Save that everybody is out to stab each other
  in the back –
  And you try to change this to no avail -
  When you give advice everyone smirks
  And you know you’re right –
  But nobody cares to listen.
  So why talk at all?

  You were blessed with a beautiful personality –
  And it’s a shame life has taught you
  To inject it with venom sometimes –
  But most of the time –
  You wish you could relax
  Take some time out from the schedule
  And sit back.

  Nobody lets you – You barely have time to
   be alone –
  You think about it – you never have time to
   be alone -
  Chores – errands – friendships – commitments

  And you feel like life is fleeing -
  Leaving you with the schedule.

  You thought love might rescue you from
   this dilemma -
  But love is nonexistant -  Every guy
  is the same – there is no such thing
  as the “special moment”

  So you take it slow – and immerse yourself in
   routine
  And savor every new person’s smile…
  Maybe one of these days it will be different.

  
  “Talk to Me”
  Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
  12-20-78 7:40p.m. pst

  Hello?
  I’m an insignificant part of humanity…but I count.
  I’m very special to someone…but I haven’t found her
  I know I can be an asshole at times
  But humanness does not preclude negative traits
  I look at a butterfly and I thank God for me
  Nothing is ever really bad
  I can live through anything
  I’ve gone through many dreams and many nightmares
  I’ve lived false hopes and fractured heartache
  And what I’ve gone through
   is not new
  A lot of people survive the good, the tragedy
   just like me and you
  Hello?
  I like myself, I guess, what I’ve done
   what I have yet to do
  And I try to touch a lot of people.
  I make attempts to iron out my problems-
  Although sometimes I think people expect
  me to change because they themselves can’t.
  I know I have many stories to tell-
  In hopes they might help someone else-
  And still – sometimes – I’m not sure
  why everything happened like it did.
   But
  I won’t feel sorry for myself
  I’m a human being
  Endowed with all the postive and negative
   aspects.
  I’ve loved you for what seems like
   an awfully long time-
  And though I inwardly question your actions
  and motives a lot – I can’t hate you
  I’ll never hate you -
  No matter what hurt I may feel
  You always elicit a smile from me.
  I know I’m not as perfect as you -
  I can never hope to be, I guess,
  But I keep trying to live up to
  Your ideal image.

  One thing bothers me
  I’ll tell you anything you want to know
  And half of what you don’t
  But all you have to say is smalltalk

  Can’t you  -
  Talk to me?

  ---

  BEHIND THE POETRY: I’ve heard that at age 25, some folks have a “quarter life crisis.” I went through a crisis at the age of 25, because I was hopelessly in love with a gal who didn’t love me in return, but did string me on a bit. She had a “boyfriend” and ultimately chose her life with him over a life with me. I haven’t been truly in love for many years, but I can remember my deep love of Cathy when rereading these poems. Unlike when writng poetry now, which I know will be read by people online here on the blog and on my ElectricPoetry website, when wrting poetry back in 1978, I didn’t really intend them to be read by anyone, excepting perhaps their subject. At the end of my “relationship” with Cathy, I transcribed all the poems I had written for her in a little book and gave them to her at our last parting. MFN/ppf

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