#free verse
something fun from earlier ! @junefield suggested we play around with concrete nest; words in pale green were generated by the engine, all else mine.
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encountering words, I’d never dreamt
syllables ringing silently
only in my head do I hear the cacophony
oft’ times rambling
bouncing off others close enough to….
withstand the barrage
poetry becoming my weapon of choicevoice
I fear I may have killed you all
She Was Made Up Of Stolen Words
she was made up of stolen words
words meant for other girls
warm lips, tantalizing tongue
dance over prickled flesh
alive with anticipation and want
yearning for the night
the crisp sheets and soft music
nimble fingers touch places
and spaces that please
and i tease just enough
to buckle wobbly knees
from head to toe
and stem to stern
my kisses burn your soul
our eyes finally lock
and i see forever…again
fingers gasconade ~ sinfulness
…burrow severely
discovering religions concealed
no man able to manipulate
your nature and vitality,
your lust
…spirit ~ long entombed
delivering tears
youdiscard
never knowing whether they carry pleasure…or pain
Emily danced with Death…in white
only she can see, with her eyes
just how much more ~ replete he arose
yesterday remained miles off
to Emily…inhalation becomes inspiration
poetry fills her lungs
sated
Death ~ stood,slanted
I tried to make her love me,
but her mouth was
hard
bones.
Yet I loved her,
and I wanted her to love me back.
But everyday
she gave me rocks and stone.
I love her still.
If I am angry it is in a place I cannot feel it.
I hurl my hurt up onto the top shelf, somewhere I cannot reach,
let it gather dust, decay
until I forget about all that was said to me, done to me.
I can convince myself
anger is an emotion that does not
apply to me.
/
A friend stabs me in the back,
and a flare of rebellious fury sparks up within me. I
distance myself from it, the
detachment of a scientist,
dissect the act - cut it into little pieces
(as if my rage was not born from me,
my own flesh and blood, my child I slice open to cure the plague)
rationalise it away.
/
You can justify almost any cut
someone makes in you if you don’t want to believe in blood enough,
if you love the knife.
/
But anger is a human right, or at least an inevitability.
It is not a luxury everyone apart from myself can afford.
A rose by any other name
will still prick you with its thorns.
Call a spade a spade,
and use it to dig up
the fury you bury,
before it grows into weeds
that strangle you
even as you deny it.
my capacity for faking emotions,
i think,
is much lower than required
i feel like my whole body’s
submerged in water,
and every movement i make
is significantly slower
than it should be,
every word i speak somehow not
what i meant
there’s many misfortunes one can
have and this is just mine,
broken brain broken brain broken brain
