Two fingers on the pulse of remorse
whilst under the thumb of gratification.
I hung out like a god on a cross
just to be
struck down by the feather of your soft stare...
and your honey-lipped death rattle.
The devil whispered through the crackle of neon.
Secrets darker than the inside of a blackened heart.
Afraid of the wolf and the cast that is my shadow.
Laid fair upon my pillow
I sought to touch you...
with my mind.
Innocence lost in the serpentine of midnight.
Floundered and salted
Only to be revealed by the morn,
for sunbeams do show the ugly that
night likes to hide.
Funny how one and one can
still not equal two.
How chivalry can run like faucets.
Empowering...these...cause and effects.
Once I took a bridge.
Burnt it after I crossed.
Now smoke smells of nostalgia
in every cigarette sparked.
Forgive me father
for I...
never even called her back.
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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i cant tell you how much i love this piece...im kinda dumbfounded so please excuse me...wow...this is incredible...absolute killer...i cant even comment decently, im so stupified...i feel this one...i really dig your style and language...images are insanely fantastic...adore the third stanza...im grinnin like an idiot...lol...well done, poet....brilliance
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Well after starting at the annoying finger on the top right of your screen I finally began reading the poem; and im glad that I did! Great job on this poem.
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you have the most visually interesting site here and your writing is superb.
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"I hung out like a god on a cross
just to be
struck down by the feather of your soft stare...
and your honey-lipped death rattle."
I liked that.
No..
I liked this more;
Laid fair upon my pillow
I sought to touch you...
with my mind.
Phuck it. I liked it all.
And your background is very eye pleasing.
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Awesome...
Impressive work...
Such wonderful imagery & metaphor that paints a vivid narrative that makes for a captivating read...
Keep up the good work...
Well done!!!
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Nice work Jason. I liked the lines Once I took a bridge. Burnt it after I crossed. Now smoke smells of nostalgia in every cigarette sparked. This part I enjoyed in the whole poem for its expression. Thanks again for writing another fine work!!
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The first two lines seem to point towards a need to be absolved, if no more than in the speakers own mind. If wonder if it is nostalgia that the smoke smells like or guilt?
I'm not sure this is a straight-forward piece or one that intends more, the are certainly reasons to support both. I'll stick with the middle road and just say that it's guilt which this poem is about, whether simply using a woman or whether it intends more, it's guilt. Or so I say, lol. I agree with the others, this was quite good.
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for me it was more of a wolf in sheeps clothing scenareo. Play innocent and interested- back to her crib- bail early morning- never talk again fetish. Maybe , not so much guilt as twisted pride. I always wished I could be that guy...lol
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nice poem!!!
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hehehe well penn'ed the drifting of life, the chances like clouds, the metaphors of inner tension yes wonderfully penned
w another pack
-Jas
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I really found the way you wrote this very appealing and I loved how you ended it.
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WOW..
MY MAN..this is magnificent writing! wow, very powerful imagery, and an intensely focused piece..also, A TOP FAV.headed right onto my list..
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you should enter it in my next contest. Great job chicka. You have a wonderful talent. Keep up the wonderful work. Perfect.
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no words i could currently utter would do this piece justice
a few dozen clappies
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