Heard the murmuring current of ire,
rising heatedly from beneath the crust
of oozing pores of ravaged dermis,
feverishly blistering disaster over
and beyond the once sacred groves
of frigid misty hills.
I heard the voices buzzing in the quiet of the night,
and prayed to whom I couldn't reach, so frantic
in my fight to understand what I could scarcely feel.
I woke from fitful napping by the side of loving wonder,
feeling the surge of heat and sickness in me chin,
feeling the ick and blistered wickedness thickening
as I lost control of fingers seeking that could only fail
to heal what had started long before the winter's harshness fell.
My hunger for comfort could have led me down this trail,
my lusting for wonder and thirsting for what under there remained
might have lured me into peril, but who knows, who knows, who
but some all-knowing mysteriously postulated entity could
if only she were awake on the mountain high above?
I wept I wept in quiet retribution for the wickedness of men,
the omnipotence of zen requiring mighty efforts and our ken,
but who could have seen what neither father nor mother nor even
our wisest elders knew? If only my heart were true!
I could have laughed for joy at waking but I didn't take the cake,
I could have screamed in helpless desperation if I felt this was a rape,
but my muffled indignation signalled a wrecklessness so deeply felt
that my tears, my eyes, my heart began to melt.
And away, away, away blew those dreams like so much mist in drizzle,
and down, down, down my soul to sublimation went, to wondering,
hovering, clustering in irridescent globules of what I could not tell.
And still the silence broke in softly rustling scraping feet from hell.
Author notes
I am an adult child, a survivor of abuse, an addict of much including alcohol, a cutter, a bruiser, a beater and a loser. I am a sinner but still I am a winner. What I could not achieve on mine own my saviour achieved from high atop the throne.
A contest entry
- What's Your Addiction by Haunted Doll.
825 points, ended January 30, 2008, 11 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What is the question? Why? Or why not?
Comments
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woow moqui takoda..he dint left anythin better for me too say.. tariq its an amazing wirte.. i think there few typos fix them, "iridescent" n i think its " recklessness "
mashallah
abdulla
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First, I love the crazy, cool, undiluted zest you have for ryming (sp) ... you use inner rhyme, end rhyme, alliterative rhyme, rhyme based upon consonants, based upon vowels, sound rhymes, sight rhymes, and you do it with an ease and freedom which shows you are not bound by anything but your sense of musicality... it makes me think you play and love, or either, music with all your heart.
The last three stanzas: you display a self-knowledge, a desire to know yourself, to become at one with your own sense of nobility and the courage to recognize and to examine the things in your life which have kept you in places you did not wish to be kept in, in spite of yourself ... I admire you greatly for writing this poem.
I wept I wept in quiet retribution for the wickedness of men,
the omnipotence of zen requiring mighty efforts and our ken,
but who could have seen what neither father nor mother nor even
our wisest elders knew? If only my heart were true!
I could have laughed for joy at waking but I didn't take the cake,
I could have screamed in helpless desperation if I felt this was a rape,
but my muffled indignation signalled a wrecklessness so deeply felt
that my tears, my eyes, my heart began to melt.
And away, away, away blew those dreams like so much mist in drizzle,
and down, down, down my soul to sublimation went, to wondering,
hovering, clustering in irridescent globules of what I could not tell.
And still the silence broke in softly rustling scraping feet from hell.
beautiful, powerful, brilliant
Moqui says
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