mist drip
p
p ower
p
ssssssssss
down on dark street, hitdead
on curbs with brokeback trees,
and spindlebushes.
power fills the cups of
poor knaves, poor knavemakers
have transmorphed into
dusty ashesandrags in a
crystalclear vase.
but as I said
power
filled the cups of poor slaves
and mist
drips power down dark.
streets hitdead by curbs
driving breakback trees and
lostchildren.
lostboylostgirls
grow up fast into
goneman, woeman.
sadly, its no easier to find your way home when you have a map.
blisterboneshudderbuddy
kisses me 'neath the
oblivionlight, some hideous mistle
toenail.
fuck im bleeding
don't worry I can stop it with
nails and
maybestring?
Author notes
ummm hope you like...
A contest entry
- STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS: by exceptforthis.
550 points, ended November 23, 2008, 10 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
i do like! honestly, i find that this kind of thing can be very badly done sometimes and i was kind of scared with this contest but this is truly good good good! even the words you made up (which have a great cadence and look to them nonetheless!) i think filled themselves in with the right meanings so that in the end all the words just kind of fit like puzzle pieces to make a perfect picture.
the first stanza was very daring and those dropping "p"s actually looked great on the page with the rest of the letters you added in, even though i really didn't expect that kind of thing (except by e.e. cummings!)
the spacing of the stanzas was thoughtful and your compounds words were interesting and fluid. i couldn't ask for more! thanks for your entry.
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