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Shame
the hell here,
so precise
so clean cut
I cannot even dream
without shedding grief
it is all happening at once
awful, unspeakable chains clasping
they rattle like hoarse spirits
who beg to be seen but
only are walked through like a
wild fog above wet ground
arms are raising up
blocking fatal punches
some slip through
I bruise
lean against the columns
they are peeling
grey
old and hardened
I cannot stick around this
I will tear out my eyes first
before I ever allow hope to fill
my body with the inevitable regret
like a broken animal who
still loves it's master
long after it has been beaten to shame
riveting, unbearably real.
riveting, unbearably real. and i hate hope :)
I have a love/hate
I have a love/hate relationship with hope myself. Thank you for your comment :)
"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.
Love A Good Simile
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I was just talking about poetic devices and here is example of fine edit and thoughtful amalgamation to form unity with the entire write. Hoping there is hope - the poet speaks from many vantages, personal, other's emotional states, and so my hope is healing and a return to hope without regret. Regret serves nothing, like penance and self inflicted painful thoughts - the ego refuses to bend knee long to ill feelings. Especially from one who writes poetry with finnesse and grace. Joy to you and all you love is my hopeful wish, A true fanof your work, Star.
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The truth is, I doubt that I
The truth is, I doubt that I would survive without poetry. I can say what I am feeling and not be called a coward, crazy, or a sad sack of shit. Here it's just beautiful no matter how ugly it really is. I thank you for your hopeful wish, it is mine too. I thank you also for being a constant star for my writing. :)
"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.