Stuck in this cloud
with stinky beanie babies
abandoned by the four winds,
who eloped with mongloids.
Earth, fire, water,
all crowned reverent,
demanding to be queen
of the burning nightmare.
Stuck in this cloud,
alone in the drifting sun.
There is no sunblock,
which rubbed on my pink nose,
will prevent the burns of pettiness,
soothe the scratches of defiance,
and no access to the key
that unlocks the float.
The float, yes the float.
Speak to me in riddles that
I might never know ignorance.
My flesh consumed with the
sanitized, rationalized,
overstated villanized,
sense of mortality of loss.
Abandonment by conspiracy
sharing demon smiles.
"Death to the human heart!"
Author notes
What do I know?
In a list
A contest entry
- Graceful Tongues by rendezvous.
1500 points, ended July 19, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
-
It's a difficult thing, I think, to poeticize tastefully something of a popular commodity like beanie babies. I imagine it can be done, but I don't believe today is your day to accomplish such a lofty feat. It adds an awkward frill to your piece - which is otherwise quite intriguing and well balanced.
I enjoyed a few phrases:
"My flesh consumed with the...
...sense of mortality,[sic] of loss."
Thanks for taking the time to enter.
jen -
I find it dificult to reply.
Sorry for the pain . I hope all will be well soon in your own little paradise. stinky beanie babies.
what do I know ? The poem was a tear jerker.
-
Standing back with a perked eye brow I decide to stand back yet another step realizing that this may be contagious. I don’t believe I have ever read a stranger group of analogies at least all penned in one manuscript. The vocabulary reviles an above average intelligence wrote this but the image is sad and depraved. Wonderful poetry; for free verse that is.
Love,
Amera♥
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