I spike my coffee
And my ginger ail
I even pour a little on my quesadilla
I’m always trying to spike my life
To rise a little higher
And be something better
Newer
More beautiful
More in love with me
And you
But in the end, a blade is a blade
And I end up stitching myself up
And fingering the scars
Watching you in my head
A golden figure in the darkness
And then I hear the ghost of a child
That sings alto in the choir and the suicide screaming
Of his mother on fire and falling off a water fall-
The death rattle
And the reason-
Yeah, I see one unlucky truck
Tearing open it’s gas chamber,
Running out
And then being towed
To the junk yard
Where metal
Becomes air.
A contest entry
- Frustration by Polaja.
1200 points, ended November 13, 2008, 40 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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I think 'ginger ail' should be 'ale'? Unless you are using a play-on-words ... in which case - sweet
... I like that you have some very unique imagery in this poem, especially because the subject can seem to be a little trite - you have pulled it off well and described your feelings in a very honest and interesting way 
Thank you for entering
Polly
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I really enjoyed readin' this. There was a lot to get from it really. A lot of interestin' images.. well written. Best of luck in yer contest.
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The conclusion is so fitting for the whole poem, "being towed/ to the junk yard/ where metal/ becomes air." Your writing is very striking and powerful, and it makes your pain come through clearly. Please keep on writing, and good luck in the contest!
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I’m always trying to spike my life
To rise a little higher
And be something better
Newer
More beautiful ...
i spike it , just with smoke instead of spirits ... haha ... love this piece ... i checked out the contest but i couldnt get it out right ... good luck!!!
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