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Literature Text
& I have forgotten
how to write in poetics-
tongue kissed & gaping like
a siren missing from her sea.
I have been coughing up black
for days. Unable to clean the taste
from my mouth, these broken
typewriter keys sewn into my
fingertips scream something fierce.
They ache with longing
to tell of a story
I am so damn tired
of looking over railings
& wondering what
it would feel like
to fall.
how to write in poetics-
tongue kissed & gaping like
a siren missing from her sea.
I have been coughing up black
for days. Unable to clean the taste
from my mouth, these broken
typewriter keys sewn into my
fingertips scream something fierce.
They ache with longing
to tell of a story
- that left them
for a better high
years ago
- a story that never deserved
to make a home under the skin,
to crawl breech through an
unsuspecting womb.
- -& out through the wrists
of young girls much too ripe
to fall from their beds.
I am so damn tired
of looking over railings
& wondering what
it would feel like
to fall.
Literature
Storybook Ending
Her ink-stained lips have kissed too many a forgotten page,
[dragon's blood
and phoenix down]
And her Prince Charming has yet to come,
[glass slippers
shattering like stars]
So all she can do is gaze out her tower window,
[enchanted forests
concealing poisoned apples]
Clutch that corroded and timeworn blade,
[cursed beasts
tearing down castle walls]
Toss her childhood fables to the waltzing of the moon,
Literature
Growing Up
it seems that by now I’ve been diagnosed
with a mild case of weightlessness, mindless
drifting past empty homes and the emptier people
that purchased them. I remember conversations
with you about existentialism
and the almost intricate fabric of my mind and
everything in between, and you-- the way you
paused before making a point as
the words defined themselves in your head:
I remember the day I told you I was God.
Creator of all things unimportant, trapped
in the body of a girl with nothing left to give, you
believed me
it must be a beautiful place
inside your head, with a world
that revolves around hope and expectations
the way
Literature
I was taught right from wrong
I was taught right from wrong
By a murderer
I was taught truth from lies
By a magician
I was taught who my friends were
By my enemy
I was taught to be honest
By a professional liar
I was taught to always speak my mind
By being told to keep quiet
I was taught to be kind
By someone that beat me down
I was taught to smile
By someone who could never wipe a scowl of their face
I was taught to love
By being abused
I was taught to live
By someone who was already dead
I was taught to perform
By someone with stage fright
I was taught to be excellent
By someone that failed in everything
I was taught to rely on only my self
By being su
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I stared over a railing this morning
until everything but the ground
was one big blur and my head
started spinning.
until everything but the ground
was one big blur and my head
started spinning.
Comments44
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Overall
Vision
Originality Technique ImpactI am finally doing a critique on one of your pieces. This is my second critique so it may not be very good, but here I go.
As always, your usage of language is impeccable. You manage to turn simple every day words into a beautiful miasma of imagery and emotions. The brutal pain of this piece shines through very clearly, especially in the stanzas of:
"a story that never deserved
to make a home under the skin,
to crawl breech through an
unsuspecting womb."
"I am so damn tired
of looking over railings
& wondering what
it would feel like
to fall."
Personally I feel like those make the poem, because they're so sharp and vivid.
I love the layout of this one. The bulleted stanzas really stand out and compliment the flow of everything. However, for this one, I think that using an ampersand halted that flow and made it seem a bit too mechanical - just using the word "and" would look better, in my opinion. <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" data-embed-type="emoticon" data-embed-id="391" title=" (Smile)"/>As with almost every piece of yours, this one leaves me with this empty feeling in my heart and frankly, it's a good empty feeling. Your words just never fail to create an impact on the reader.
I still can't fathom how you manage to take so many different words and turn them into something that just connects altogether so wonderfully.