Sustenance is a mute point in starved passions.
Pristine beggars never bother with down pillows
but master their scent in widows adorned in silk.
I’ve often wandered into the stench of peacocks
as they permeate each weathered cobblestone;
with designer shoes never touching the ground.
How anyone could breathe here, I’ll never know.
But we do with their weight eternally against us
as their laughter chokes the smog with sarcasm.
Today I watched them flock upon a dying man.
Aged to perfection he sat awaiting the sunset;
pockets burnished for the vultures last feast.
He closed his eyes as they fingered his wallet;
I suppose savoring red lips, fulfilling a dream.
Then died, zipper open with whores at his feet.
Traffic didn’t stop, the street lights kept time.
My body quivered as disgust clouded my eyes;
yet I moved towards the silken edges of fire.
And to desire I whispered, sustain me not.
I am but a beast of burden trapped in the belly
of exhaustion and you are my feast of lament.
In a list
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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how would one revise this...simpley sad my friend
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Into the stench of peacocks - what a great line that is. I agree with the complexity presented here - I thought about women, streetwise souls picking the flesh off humanity. We live in a mad world, there are bound to be mad spirits in it - a good poem.
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Such a complex write, with the impact of each stanza, then the last stanza tapering down as if to his last breath. I compare your vultures, to my common reference to the bone pickers, those that settle in at deaths door step; to pick at the last remnants and possessions of a once healthy life.
I wouldn't change it in any way....Very Nice
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social anthem!
Like walking on broken glass. This poem gives the reader much to consume and sense. Almost too much, but ..
, you have a handle on shine, I'd say, because be it far from me to untangle a web that has been sprayed with something outside of us.
*Suggestions*
Why all the punctuation, dear poet? Free it up so that all the heavy descriptives can ascend. My take on it.
And to desire I whispered, [sustain me not]<-- why not itialize that phrase.
So much to consider... my teeth hurt..lol.
Superb!
as from me...
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Hood Wink!
I fear I am not good at constructive criticism ... and also I feel this needs none.
It has strength, imagery and impacts each reader differently creating a masterpiece on paper
♥
Stay safe
~Manda
(Apologies for late Hood-Wink!)
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100th Hood-Wink!
I love the raw and gritty imagery that you use in this piece - you place the reader in the world of your imagination, and they are uncomfortable - but you do it in such a way that they are grateful for it
probably a bad explanation - but this poem is amazing and I love it!
Keep writing
Polly
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Wowzers!!
For some reason I kept seeing Viggo Mortensen
I don't know why~ I read several times The fifth stanza tugged hard- It may sound strange but I felt Empowered after reading this~
-checks pulse- Powerful write
I need to pick Your brain now
Thank You for sharing Your Talent and Spirit~
Many blessings to You in all You do Sweet One
Best wishes too
with much love & light~ Desire~*~
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This sits on the page elegantly and flows nicely. Not sure how you could revise. "Pristine beggars" didn't work for me but I understand what you were saying in light of the rest of the poem; early in the piece however, without much context, I kind went "huh?" Really good piece though. Interesting juxtapositions in a world revealed as the predator reality it is.
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This gives me an ancient and theatrical feeling of being out in the streets amongst the beggars and the men of high society alike, like a scene from a classic play or film. Well done!
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Don't revise it, it's wonderful like it is.
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a lot of imagery and some powerful images...the peacock vultures, the zipper and the dead man...some thong s that will likely stay in the readers mind...and the ending metaphors of the beast trapped, feast of lament...very powerful, artistically abrupt...PK
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deep
i tinkthis expresses alot already maybeyou dont need to revise it. it really maks me loo around in disgust
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Wow...your imagery is absolutely incredible. I was so curious about the scenes...when did humanity seem to deviate so far to the gutter as to become it? Well, who knows? I loved your expressions here; so very powerful. I saw some aged fellow "Today I watched them flock upon a dying man.
Aged to perfection he sat awaiting the sunset;
pockets burnished for the vultures last feast.
He closed his eyes as they fingered his wallet" and just shook my head. I wonder how we can smile at each other the way we do sometimes (with guilt often not too far behind). You write so brilliantly...
AsIThink...
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I quite liked this, loved the wandering into the stench of peacocks. Well written with some intelligence and really good images. Gets better with each read but I felt it did lack a little impact at the end, just my opinion though,
well done, good stuff,
regards,
Floorboards.
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Thank you. I totally agree with you. I've been reading it over myself and the ending does seem to lose some impact. I appreciate the honest opinion as I am working on it in my head over and over
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This contains so many impressive metaphors and lines..
I particularly like
"Today I watched them flock upon a dying man.
Aged to perfection he sat awaiting the sunset;
pockets burnished for the vultures last feast."
and
"Traffic didn’t stop, the street lights kept time.
My body quivered as disgust clouded my eyes;
yet I moved towards the silken edges of fire."
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How anyone could breathe here, I’ll never know.
But we do with their weight eternally against us
as their laughter chokes the smog with sarcasm.
oh my god, I love that.
I don't think you understand how often I feel like that.
this was amazing.
nice write. -
This authors disgust and revulsion at the disheartening behaviors of the dispassionately blind is crystal clear in verse. Good use of metaphoric references eluding to the episode unfolding too.The subjects lamenting in his final minutes is beyond sad. Let's hope it occurred to him in finality that nothing of this earthly existence of materialism mattered though. Gut wrenchingly sad repartee.
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wow..what a write, full to the brim of easily seen imagery.
Eyes that perceive the following onslaught of the last breath, the prized possessions of a lonely heart taken before the cold sets in, and not a whisper of sorrow shown from the gatherers.
When time and observation is used, it's amazing what is there to be seen, and you painted the scene perfectly, well done.
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