Sanguine rush onto the
carnage of each bitter caught
repetition
and the raven hair dresses itself,
plastered ink laden and exhausted to
examine the faded shape of yet more milky -
ode to bacteria's desolation -
of flesh.
Silent there, mask forlorn to brand-
Be yourself if yourself isn't rancor swears the biblical media, prone with their overused, threaded pink tongues and their non alabaster union of momentary name dropping to spit swapping.
Lifestyles, extra lubrication rung on the same nightstand as their oral fascination with vestal Mary.
Metal music reviving the kugel mess my cranium has survived into, morphed into creation and yonder Manson, Iron Maiden and Avenged, Frank Sinatra tells me about lady luck walking out which is how I know it.
I don't care for your highlights ugly discomfort to a northshore sweater, so
tweak an a
but kiss Carrie twice.
Bipolar Biology Biome Bisexuality Biased
Hold your dead dog so tight to your landscape - breathing corpse
bounce your rhyming spirals in an
Oxys rhythm
and O never had so many words until you left the lime light and were trapped in the shadows to your shocked satisfaction
indulge in the loud soft comfort of rock, metal and fabric of contradictory, pure corset, Praise
honor
Satanist
Setinist
Vestal - beastile
Oxymoronic Ode
as kiss Carrie twice.
It's so good No one's listening
They take in a key I can't talk about
and touching is what I won't talk about.
Fill the pot holes in your soul with the devil is what Sirirus Blinders said,
and the real prophets knew us by definition.
Outcasted by the outcasts
and Iron by the metal
the eightball says;
Ask Again Later.
Author notes
- May 31st (for contest)
A contest entry
- Make eyes sparkle with your words by ladame.
450 points, ended June 1, 2008, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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This is very reminiscent of 'beat' poetry in the early sixties - not always reachable by mere mortals, but having a rollicking rhythn which draws you in and holds you. btw: fruegle = frugal
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I meant the pudding, do you happen to know what it's called? It's, noodled.
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Oops! Sorry, my mistake. The only noodle pudding with a slightly similar name is a Jewish one called Lochen Kugel. Sorry again for the misdirected 'correction' Mike
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No, don't apologize, thank you! Kugel was the word I was looking for!
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It's mainly your slightly odd use of punctuation and lack of hyphens that made this hard to read.
I really enjoyed your alliteration and rhythm. I also enjoy the thorough bitterness and passion I sense, and then the complete dispair and "whatever, let it go" in the last line - doesn't life just snigger at us sometimes?
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Hey, so this is my first comment to one of your poems. they keep getting harder for me to read, but i'm still to facinated to give up. (even if I have to use 3 diffrent translations sites to find the meaning of all the words..)
I liked this one ^^ talk to you later.
Jessica
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I really liked it, the last lines were really strong, and I liked how you referenced music into it, it was a strong piece, and very well done
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First let me say the red txt on this makes it very hard to read...might want to think about changing it.
Now to the poem...
This is indeed like an acid trip racing from one thing to the next like the mind expanding into vivid colors. There is alot more to it than meets the eye and one must read between the lines to get the full impact of its entirety. My favorite part is the ending though which sums it all up nicely.
Fill the pot holes in your soul with the devil is what Sirirus Blinders said,
and the real prophets knew us by definition.
Outcasted by the outcasts
and Iron by the metal
the eightball says;
Ask Again Later.
Keep penning poet!
Becky
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