we weave notions with imagery
of the flight of angels
& get lost in the egotistical
belief that if good as unrolled gold
we too may grow to such lofty heights
& there we play in the treehouse
of milk spilt from pour of jug
& the sour of whiteness curdled
over hurdle of bone china cup
that bites lip back with chip of lip
& on the ground they walk not fly
these earth angels cursed to enable
those that should feed own need
& I met mine between two types of hell
as our paths crossed en route to school
she wore a look of distress
& perfumed in gin
saved me from my own pain
by inviting me in
to hers
& it was holocaust jack-boot black
kicking medussa & snaking into me
shards of crystal clear reality
that sliced life like children lost
& mayhem of the mind married time-
I wanted to divorce on the grounds
that we stood on looking back
she passed the tortuous truth
blessing & cursing me earth angel
gifted to uplift
those burdened by heaviness of walk
& the wings comfort me
when I envelop lost soul
& we both feel lighter temporarily
but to walk again
is to negotiate new path
only to find
like meets like mind
& too many feathers
are plucked in the nit of pick
& we all play different versions
of the very same game
"what's the time mr.wolf?"
& he bares teeth to grin
for he keeps no account
but shouts whatever he feels
as beelzebub with wristwatch
with no second hand to sweep
but heaven & hell
portrayed in gemini face
in continuum...
& you don't go higher
than you can stand straight
& you can't fall
lower than the next man
but you can choose
not to crawl
& not to drag by collar
you choose your pleasure
& it has it's own price
& when you choose your sin
it's a debt never met
by the one tree island
languishing under palm of regret
sipping a double shot
of if-only
& despising the shelf of self
for repeatedly saying
bartender
hit me again
Author notes
NB This is an anonymous contest entry.Please don't use my name if you comment,many thanks indeed.
A contest entry
- The Poets Write by Starrchild777.
975 points, ended March 8, 2007, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Excellent
Serious stuff, this. It is paradoxical, in that the meaning comes across as serious, while the language is simple. The last line is especially well written. It brings the reader...rather, jolts the reader out of the reverie. Heaven and hell are not different, though. It's all in the mind. A slight change in perspective can transform hell into heaven, and vice versa. Imagery of angels, plucked feathers and nit picking are a result of good observation of people and relationships. Good luck, God bless
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Discriptive
Such an intense write! Imagery and emotion are blasting out to cptivate the reader. You have penned the agony of defeat and the desires of man kind as the test of time shows can be overwhelmed with the poison of the times. No release from the inevitable. Good luck, your friend, Don
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Xcellent!
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1st> Thank you for entering our contest.
2nd> S1-L4 "as" sp.? or truly meant as typed?
L7 perhaps this can be more cleary said?
S2-L3 once again, can you more clearly say this?
S4-L13 "nit" sp.? or is this what you truly mean?
I feel that some punctuation would help illuminate this piece greatly. I will be back next week and give a further review. Thanks once again.
~*Starr*~ -
Awesome sis, great write, Good luck!
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I promise to come back to this, I have it bookmarked because it is fantastic!
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