Prose poetry monologue

2013－02－1816:17:20

"Goodo", don't laugh, it's my little kimchi jar, which can't seal the sour gas in the stomach, and it will bubble from time to time. There is more than one jar in my house, and the other jar is the bean paste made by my wife a few years ago, she said, the population can't be sealed, but the mouth of the altar is okay, and the sauce jar does not need to be watered by the eaves. After she left, the altar remained silent.

We have only one person, two TVs, a new one sealed in a cardboard box, he is not allowed to make a noise for three years, it is not from an unknown source, it is a prize given to me by the company, and after years of hard work, it is an old electrical appliance that has no market. The other one said non-stop as soon as he entered the door, singing endlessly, he was the longest qualified in my family, but once he was led out of the door, he didn't dare to say a word, in my mother's words, it was dog meat, and he couldn't go to the lobby. He wears a three-color rose on his head, which he assembles by hand when his daughter comes over for the summer vacation.

One large, two small and three windows, a total of six mouths, have been open for some days, but nothing has been said.

The only balcony in our house, looking up at heaven every day, has never opened its mouth.

I never thought that this long, narrow single room was destined for me, and it became my rented house many years ago. If you don't go out at home, you can't tell if it's yourself or this single room after a long time.

The hardest is not the heart of the only male in my family. When it was a four-sided wall of red bricks, pebbles, reinforced concrete, my seventy-year-old mother refused to look at it from 3,000 miles away. No, what is even harder is the floor slab overhead, which thickens the face of the beam, and presses several floors of the same house on the top, completely cutting off the wife's expectant gaze. The floor under its feet is not bad, layer by layer, it is combined into speakers, all of which reduce the volume of her daughter's crying.

One person, one family, a family of four, scattered in all directions.

There is plenty of light in the house, and if you read a book every day, you don't have to look where you shouldn't.

The wide gray is white, not my face. The tiles are thick, not my face. Running around outside, you can only get off the door. At home, only the four legs of the bed can show off high heels, or eight high heels. The bed is stuffed with helplessness, and the bed unfolds and waits. Questioning from time to time climb on the windowsill, two rich bamboos are squeezed into the same bottle to play tricks: roots, suppressing each other, leaves, accusing each other, size, comparing with each other, the same green complexion, and the same slap fanning. When I first adopted you, didn't I make a wish: As tall you grow, my salary will rise? At the end of this year, as many leaves have grown, as many leaves have withered, no more, no less; my monthly salary has risen by 10 and 25 percent, the rent has risen by three facts (40), the price of water has doubled, the price of electricity has increased by 30 percent, and the price of rice has increased by more than 30 percent. Alas, when I raised you, I still used the wrong bottle, why did I choose Arowana, is it not that it fixed the ratio of income and expenditure: 1 to 1 to 1.

Horizontal and vertical eight, forty points and four floor tiles, can measure my mind.

It is said that it is a single room, but in fact, it is more than that, we are also a small sample of two bedrooms and one living room. With the bottom line of my dignity, I retreated again and again, exited the back door, the front heart was connected to the back heart, and behind the door was a small kitchen. The bitterness that can't be eaten, the face that can't be cut thin, the raw and unfamiliar that can't be cooked, the cold and warm that can't be separated, the contradictions that can't be reconciled, the melons that can't be broken, and the lotus root that is constantly cut, shoveled and shoveled here, stirred and stirred, turned over and over, meal after meal, fat like a bunch of rumors.

The kitchen used to be, and there was also a bathroom. Alas, unless you don't go out, the unbearable injustice is still dirty, the grievances that can't be stretched are brushed for a long time, the obligation to have no overtime pay is taken off and on, and the endless human affection is scratched and itchy. Pushing the window and looking out, I know that my home has been scattered, but I still hang out the thought of going home every day.

I also have the company as a busy family, and it took 15 years of hard work to see through, it's different, it's different, it's too different after all.

The rental house is just an imitation of home, and if you don't hear your mother's voice, it's not a place to home.

The heaviness of homesickness doubts my shoulders, the backpack that has not been used many times does not believe in my hometown, and the gifts that I have accumulated for many years are old in wooden boxes. Or the two rich bamboos said it silently: like the two of us, Shuangmu stood in a line, insisted until the sunset, formed a good dream, and easily crossed the mountain and returned to the old hometown, the eternal old place.

P.S. [What Shen Zhou said]:

01. Reply to Autumn Leaves (Poetry Worm): It's true, I've always insisted: It's okay for a man to be graceful for a while, but he still has to be the main body of the atmosphere. We must not lose the big because of the small, and weaken the dignified body.

02. Reply to Akiba (Poetry Worm) New Iron Rider: The rental house is just an imitation of home, and if you don't hear your mother's voice, it's not a place to home.

03. Reply to Liang Zi: My gratitude is longer than "Intelligence Power".

04. Reply to the voice of the night: I am already considered to be evil, impetuous, frivolous, and top-heavy and detached from my roots. I also had to collect some of my energy and devote it to the writing of "Intelligence Power".

05. Reply to the cold smoke and cold moon: In a busy life, it is also a luxury to let words come and go often. But it doesn't matter, the words themselves will interact, and of course they will remind us when they touch the light: the beacon fire is up, let us move.

06. Reply to Long Chan: Forget the past, time is the best key. Forget to remember the past, time is the best lock in.

07. Reply to Snow Drift: When we encounter a problem, if we don't dissect it and analyze it, we will often be helpless, and the difficulty will be seen more and more, and it will become an "unbreakable" fortress. If we understand the "magic ball theory", we will find that the ways to deal with the problem are almost endless.

08. Warm breeze: "Shuangmu stands in a line, persists until the sun sets, forms a good dream, and easily crosses the mountains and valleys, and returns to the old hometown, the eternal old place" - is a monologue, a whisper, a relief, and a frankness.

09. Reply to the warm breeze: If it is a double wood plus two small, it is a forbidden word, although I am at home, I can't imprison myself.

10. Reply to the clear sound of the landscape: I have to read it several times, poetry is not fast food. I poured it and thought about it, I thought it and grinded it, and I licked it when I was done. People who love poetry are very greedy, there are many poems, and they have to have a fate to meet the good poems that move them. Your sentence break is very ingenious. Comment: Xin Zhu Qingyu (new poem, original) spring, plough willow green

11. Reply to the spring sunset: If you don't see it in person, you can see what no one has ever seen.