poetry

a poem is a fun house mirror reflection of secret things

elongated shadows

trick photography

sometimes Vaseline on the lens to smooth out the wrinkles

other times no filter

just ragged bloody claw marks and desperate screams, empty rooms and crowded elevator cars of filth and anguish

happy little scenes

and grotesque menageries of wounded dying daydreams

like a crowded freeway at rush hour

everyone has somewhere to be

some are content to just sit and listen to the music

while others bash the steering wheel and scream voiceless rage at the others trapped on the concrete arteries like so much arterial plaque, causing an excess of pressure that can only lead to an explosion

of love and life

lyrical intensity and beautiful odes

the darker side

ripping chunks of flesh from the still writhing corpse of angst and impotent sorrow

written in tears, in blood, in promises of eternal hope, scratched by broken nails into the fabric of existence, carved into skin or stone

painted with airy brush strokes

branded by fiery irons

but always beautiful

even in the ugliest, bare to the elements, there is a glimpse into the soul of the writer, the poet, the fool, the artist

fumbled misspelled decrees and cursive eloquent dalliances

bereft of hope

saturated in incomprehensible metaphor

word play and direct bile

one line can erase a desert of pain

or flood the plains with torment so pure it becomes whimsy

i hammer the language from raw ore, pound the red hot steel into something that resembles coherency, toss it into the quenching waters and let stand whatever monstrosity is laid free, set loose upon the aether to poison or titillate

for i am just a clumsy oaf

aware of his ineffectual shortcomings and strained voice

spewing toxic sludge and ideas of unrequited fantasy

but it helps

even if it alleviates the discomfort for a moment

it helps

if it reaches one person that feels like the ever falling detritus of life is about to bury them

we have words

and in a place of uncertainty

sometimes that is enough

in the darkness

any flickering light can help

3 thoughts on “poetry

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