A night without armour

OK, I know I’m usually Mr. Jokester, but maybe my recent brush with death has brought out my introspective side.
I write poetry.

Nobody has ever read it. I am so embarassed. Right now, as I write this, I am shaking. This is me, spilling my guts, my heart and soul – without the shield of irony to protect me. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

This is a poem I wrote a few years ago, after my cat had died. I know that sounds like a trivial thing to write a poem about, but she had been my cat for 21 years. When she was about ten, she had gotten run over and almost died and only dragged her broken body back to the house because I kept calling her. I feel she was ready to give up and die, but she heard my voice calling her after everyone else had gone to sleep and since I didn’t give up, she didn’t give up.

Anyway, enough rambling, I guess I have to bite the bullet and get this over with. This is for you, Allie Cat.

“Can’t Fight This Feeling” – by Eric Filipkowski

I can’t fight this feeling any longer
And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow
What started out as friendship, has grown stronger
I only wish I had the strength to let it show

I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever
I say there is no reason for my fear
‘Cause I feel so secure when we’re together
You give my life direction
You make everything so clear

And even as I wander
I’m keeping you in sight
You’re a candle in the window
On a cold, dark winter’s night
And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might

And I can’t fight this feeling anymore
I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for
It’s time to bring this ship into the shore
And throw away the oars, forever

‘Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore
I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for
And if I have to crawl upon the floor
Come crashing through your door
Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore

My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you
I’ve been running round in circles in my mind
And it always seems that I’m following you, girl
Cause you take me to the places that alone I’d never find

And even as I wander I’m keeping you in sight
You’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night
And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might

And I can’t fight this feeling anymore
I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for
It’s time to bring this ship into the shore
And throw away the oars, forever

Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore
I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for
And if I have to crawl upon the floor
Come crashing through your door
Baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore.

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7 comments

  1. Far out man. That is strikingly similar to a poem I once wrote. It’s been a long time since I’ve read it and I don’t really know which notebook it’s in but it starts out really cool as I remember.

    When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide
    Where I stop and I turn and I go for a ride
    Till I get to the bottom and I see you again
    Yeah yeah yeah hey

    Something like that. Mine is about my long dead chipmunk, Red Skelterin

  2. I know how hard it must have been for you to open yourself up like that. And what an amazing poem…so full of love for your pussy…..I can only hope that I can someday feel the love you felt for your cat. You are an inspiration, sir. God’s speed, gentle soldier. God’s speed….

  3. It’s not just poetry, it’s your soul laid bare. If you could adapt your poem to music, say with a stadium rock sort of sound, I’m sure the music industry would sit up and take notice. You really could be onto something here (possibly a law suit).

  4. Eric, we have already discussed this poem of yours in detail. Please save us both some trouble and remove it from your site. I don’t appreciate you trivializing a song I wrote about my Jr. High relationship with my PE teacher. He was a beautiful man with hairy, hairy legs. What he and I had was special and it inspired me to sing. It’s bad enough what Sony made me change, but I’ll be damned if you expect me to sit by and let you make this about your cat. I hope your cat is gone, just like the days I had in the boat room with Mr. Whipple.

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