| Author | Message |
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ros.
Salute You in Your Grave
Age: 35
Gender: -
Posts: 2442 | December 17th, 2009 at 01:32am
First one of my comebacks; not really a poem. I thought in poetry, came out as prose. Hope you like it.
He was at a street corner when I met him. The puffs of smoke made him out to be someone out of a seedy movie. Streetlights were missing. He was bathed in the cheap lights of neon.
“You’re always alone.”
He says “You’re playing a dirty game.”
It was apt. At that point no one knows who they are. Mirrors are strangers. Mirrors are the new dial –a-date portals. Every day in the shower you’re having an intimate time with your bedfellow. You sleep alone.
He lights a new one and says “it’s time to reassess yourself.”
Periodical cicadas live for an average of 13 to 17 years, depending on their species. They live most of their lives underground as nymphs, scurrying and living in huge droves before they emerge , moult, reproduce, lay their eggs, and die. All in a span of a few weeks.
He says “We’re pretty much the direct opposite.”
“What’s childhood anymore?”
He says “You’re born and you’re assailed with crap. With everything impure.”
“It lasts a nano-minute.”
According to him, we’re better off as cicadas. They don’t know the world, they don’t know global warming, they don’t know politics. They live in the womb of the earth and when they do eventually come out, it’s okay. Because all the shit of the world that hits them, well, it will all be over in a matter of weeks. |
kid from yesterday.
Bleeding on the Floor
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Posts: 1265 | December 17th, 2009 at 06:20am Shit. I feel like the world is right again now that I've read this.
I love everything about this. Every word, every sentence, everything. I've been reading a lot of prose and short stories that mirror this style of writing and it's so apt that the tone and structure and style of this piece is pretty much the kind I'm completely digging these days.
I want to write like you, seriously. This is brilliant. |
misa misa.
Shotgun Sinner
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Posts: 8241 | December 17th, 2009 at 07:52pm hey
This was really interesting. i loved it.
I was really drawn into the character right from the start. You had some great imagery. I feel like i could here more written about this particular character.
very intriguing. |
ros.
Salute You in Your Grave
Age: 35
Gender: -
Posts: 2442 | December 18th, 2009 at 09:10am Nab, thanks, you know how much your comments mean to me 
And thanks for the comment Nadiya. In all honesty I've been really into Chuck Palahniuk for the longest time, and the way he writes is so vivid and breathtaking. His style has influenced this piece somewhat. |
ros.
Salute You in Your Grave
Age: 35
Gender: -
Posts: 2442 | December 19th, 2009 at 12:53pm
THE ITCH
The itch
never goes away having
festered for 7 years.
Perhaps the silver flashes weave
an illicit attraction, the
sink
crafting a clandestine apprehension, and the
tear; of skin from skin, producing an ecstasy so
surreal and exhilarating, you forget for
one moment that you’re
Destroying what restraint you’ve had for the last 2 years in the
clean.
You see yourself in the blade.
And you are your own worst enemy.
|
Your Ghost.
Thinking Happy Thoughts
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Posts: 440 | December 19th, 2009 at 07:07pm your words are strong and amazing.
I love the last two lines of 'The Itch'; such strong wording for a perfect kickass ending.(:
pleasepleaseplease write more.  |
kid from yesterday.
Bleeding on the Floor
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Posts: 1265 | December 19th, 2009 at 10:50pm
Perhaps the silver flashes weave
an illicit attraction, the
sink
crafting a clandestine apprehension
Not a lot of people can broach this topic in writing without sounding cliche. You're an original. (:
If that was personal, I'm sorry you're struggling. You're strong Rossss. <3 -hugs-
|
ros.
Salute You in Your Grave
Age: 35
Gender: -
Posts: 2442 | March 11th, 2011 at 11:11am It's been so long since I've been here. But I just needed to write. And I'm a little rusty. But here goes
This cage, the lock put in place by
you; by them.
Them,
how do i deal with? They watched me grow up;
I did all I can for
trust. I’ve been good, good, good,
or so Santa says.
Kept out of the fire,
kept out of the dark. But still
caged. By a lack of
trust? I don’t know.
You, I’m disappointed. Words of
affirmation of affection, don’t mean anything?
You of all people, understand the
complexity. The frustration. The fear.
But what of it, when you think in terms of "me"?
Me, caged by those I love most desperately.
Looking at me through the bars.
Standing.
Watching. |
MyChemicalBlack
Salute You in Your Grave
Age: -
Gender: -
Posts: 2351 | March 12th, 2011 at 02:16pm Killer ending to this poem. 
Nice work. |
