No matter how I shake the tree,
this apple will not fall for me.
Ripely, tightly juiced with nectar,
sunlit, ambered skin,
protector of the honeyed flesh within.
Wasped, we’re bruised by mortal sin.
It roots my feet,
kidnaps my speech,
shape-shifting,
sweet, entreating peach.
Attainable.
But out of reach.
IN SOFT CELL’S 1981 album-opener “Frustration”, Marc Almond sings:
🎵 I want to break a rule
I am a no, no, no, no, no, no, nobody
Everybody’s fool 🎵
…before wishing for the untouchable: film with John Wayne and Elvis; take heaps of cocaine; run a harem; be a tiger; meet Bo Derek. All before fading out on a repeated “fru-stra-tion”, “live live live” (and of course, as Leeds’ goth-jester in residence, “die die die”).
My poem, as trailed, is about love/lust on the surface, but fru-stra-tion at its heart. It’s been kicking around in various forms for years with the mercurial “apple” being whatever’s triggered my impotent solipsism on the day. I’ve nudged the words around a little at each defeat. Not quite getting there. Watching the velvet rope being raised. Being left out. In my youth it was about – yes – not getting The Girl. I’m a lot more confident now, and I’ve got the Best Girl anyway. But back then, I was a moon-faced idiot.
And now? There are so many apples, so many trees, but almost everybody is barred from the orchard. Personally, the strongest theme for this poem today is sugar. I’ve had to throttle back hard on the sweet stuff in the past couple of years, and that confectionery-aisle, that shortbread, that Viennese Konditorei, her fondness for a Chococo delivery… man… fru-stra-tion!
A corrective to Soft Cell. Bringing the music a little more up to date, Australian band Operator Please released this belter in 2007: “Get What You Want”. I love it when a band of, basically, kids just rips it up. Amandah Wilkinson gives one of pop’s finest little screams of frustration/delight at 4:12. 🙂
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Photo: Timotheus Fröbel on Unsplash
Who knew words could make u moist, thanks 💞