I whirl into parks of midnight:
dreamlike, wondrous, serene
blissed with flairs of calmness,
rocking a pickled brain with willow whispers,
or vines,
slowly cradling me to sleep in her branches.
as if an aura of rejuvenation.
Parks, of midnight
the street minion's playground,
or ceremonial ground of ungracefully dead
Of blood and gore,
and that pedestrian - coveted in blood,
monopolizing my special seat of serenity!
His tattoos, grossly marking -
an epoch of broken bones
a delicately split neck
torn; ripped;
teared as if a lovemaking melody in its peak
in reddened bruises,
the choreographed dances of kicks and punches,
so elegantly!
a punch, or a kick
craving for their absolute sweetness
in blood or wounds,
so satiating, so delicious
one must crave and destroy for such reaping rewards
His abdomen;
the emblem of violence,
as if gun-shots are cures,
slowly injecting their vaccines,
pushing one to utopia.
And my tearful kisses to this pedestrian,
seems nothing,
but a barbaric sip:
like a greedy eater,
savoring his blood of bravery,
with my honey-crisped lips.
Or cutting old wounds,
in tender caresses.
Parks- the new disturbia.
Chilly winds intruding my solitude,
as if they are to partake
the elegant art of murdering willows' vespers,
or slaying leaves.
Parks: the arena of twisted pleasures.
Author notes
*stream of consciousness, prose poetry parody of violence.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Did what I just post make any sense? It must because you inspired them. This is one haunting piece of poetry, and you just seem to be getting better and better! I've never done this before, but I'm giving you three applaudes. You deserve them!
-
I'm so sorry I haven't been reading much of your work recently, but I haven't been on AP at all.
But seriously, poems like these is why I keep on coming to read your posts. I simply love love dark and morbid poems! I just can't seem to get one idea out of my mind which is when you compared the beating he took to a dance. It just fascinated me, and I could easily picture and savour the picture you painted. I've never thought about it before, but there really is a certain eerie harmony and grace within the motion of fists and limbs. -
You're developing a very unique style here, I like how you transcend between first person narrative to more of an existentialist fly-on-the wall. Interesting you incorporated nature as being a part of the whole picture of violence, as if it is a natural feeling that is overgrown.
Adding your comment:
