Dewfinger

This poem is about the self-destruction of a lover's ex, the effects of jealousy and rage and a comparison of this spiteful person to their inner temper-tantrum child.

You precipitate your jokes

like a

      dewfinger

you watch FATTEN

               and

                  drIP

           in front of your nose.

You laugh when it falls at your

       feet,

little boy .

booger yourself off onto your sleeve

grime your nose into your black-and-blue

sl l e  e   e  e  e   e  e  e  e   e  e  e v  e

wipe your wrist on the crust of that

       effeminate turtleneck

            black-and-blue

            black-and-blue

            black-and-blue

            black-and-blue 

                STRIPES

The pattern repeats, right up to a

                 SNARL!

Of blonde head.

Your bike tires spit! Gravel

And you snot! Yourself out from our driveway

dus s s ssty eruptions of temper

                driffffffting around you.......

       Mad at your wife.

       Mad at your son.

       Mad at your self.

       Mad at your life.

               Mad!

Hammering Hammering Hammering    HAMMERING

your petals into the grit,

torturing them.

Because they gear ever

                         chink

                   in your life

     around that rusty bike chain

of your life, slipping

because you (control) every little bit of linkage

with just the

                  levers of your

                                     feet.

I bet you ignored! Every sharp pebble your tires lipped

             ignored! Even the little slanted rocks

                         that toed your tires and could've flipped

             you

             and your heart

             across the gravel road,

sprawled on a dead country road under the

           unforgivable blue

                 of

                                    infinity,

A heart grinding to a stop on gravel,

and beating slowly down there.

That's you treading dirt.

Pushing away away way awaaaaaay

                                 from my trailer.

Peddling peddling peddling ped-DUH-LING

in the hot sun.

defense mechanisms SWEATING in your face.

Your ugly, curled Rage Li

                                   P.

               streaming viscous strings of spittle

across your bike tires.

Where your angry bones

          rattle, bead, click.

          Up and down the spokes

in little stacks

   like the abacus

   that accounts for you.

You spun yourself into a gyre of gravel,

proved yourself into an audience of

           sharp! applauding pebbles

that crackled beneath your skeleton.

To prove your dust had been wronged amongst the

     little rocks.

To me.

To her.

To every sharp pebble that populated your helmet.

Author's Note

Every single grammatical notation and word positioning has a semantic meaning, or a slight mental implication. This is not just a scattering of words.

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

"...like the abacus that accounts for you..." --every now and again I read something that quite literally makes my head snap back, and quite often those moments come while reading your work. This is an exceptional line in an extraordinary poem.

[G!o]

Like always, you structure really adds color to your poem. Really amazing choice of words and i adore how you stress and switch the pace of the poem with the repetition. I really LOVE your writing style, okay maybe love is an understatement but you are the master of your words. Amazing...

[Horizon K.]

Love how you use a simple image like riding a bike to draw a complex emotional character.

[Lushan]

I didn't assume for a moment that any moment was random. well crafted yet it never looses the fire of frustration. well done.

[Victoria PoetryBunny]

Oh structure on a site that tends to limit it... frustrating I know. However this one seems to have turned out good, I really like the structure how you play with the words. The way you used your descriptions, nicely done. I really like this part, the structure of layering the words like the stripes layered:
" effeminate turtleneck
black-and-blue
black-and-blue
black-and-blue
black-and-blue
STRIPES
The pattern repeats,"

[Baby Ricochet]

Bro this is genius. I love how you wrap complex and difficult emotion into everyday things.

[Steven]

It's an amusing allegory in a way, with metaphors hidden inside other metaphors. What is it about romantic relationships that makes everyone's childhood issues rush to the surface and spill the f**k out everywhere?? Anyway, nice write.

[James William Dyer]

because women have been tampering with our peepees from birth to youth to manhood, on into the elder years. And I actually think men are more emotional than women, women tend to be more rational when it comes right down to it. Deep loves force to crisis the reality of who you are inside and out, makes you examine yourself.

[Steven]

They do always seem to have their hands down there...

I have experienced that cool, cold, emotionless rationality in a woman. But in my experience, most of them have been "feel first, think later." Even when having a conversation, it flows in an, at times, awkward way with the tides of the heart. Sometimes it's an explosion of the mouth, and then the looking at and explaining of what is now scattered everywhere... And maybe that IS more rational... haha, I love them.

[James William Dyer]

They have more emotional intelligence, I think. They have more of a flood of emotions, and a capability to harness and utilize them, comes from having been the gatherers in early human history lol. Then again, this is all just stereotyping.

[James William Dyer]

I wish I could cohabitate with a submissive type, it just never works out. I like a fighting spirit

[Steven]

lol, true. I don't think they'd mind those stereos.

[Steven]

Yes! Backbones are sexy.

[J. Viands]

Creative I like it keep it up

[Poison Ivy]

i can tell. there is so much to talk about with this one poem, i may have to reread it a few times

[.]

~ wow... well, this is a very, very, very powerful piece of writing... incredibly vivid... and incredibly expressive... with extremely unique images...

[James William Dyer]

thanx so much.

[.]

~ you're welcome...