poinsettia

Poinsettia,

the christian flower bleeds

outside

and i bleed in here,

in this house,in this room

that clings,clings to me 

in this purple bed in my pants,

we both wallow in our blood red impurity,

i want to daub God's face in red,

in my mother's nauseating reds,

those menstrual reds which binge ate

every piece of her sanity,

but we can vaunt,flower sister,can't we,

afterall we aren't barren yet.

Our reds ensure it,

they talk of The Presence

hanging stationary in this room,

ready to devour.

The Prescence that we can't escape

and today i dont want to talk about us,

lets talk of another woman

who killed herself,

Monoxide can keep your lips

pink for a longer time,

(isn't this all what a girl wants,poinsettia)

Poinsettia,you have restored my faith

on my words,

i can suffocate anyone,

or i can make them feel

this room and the presence.

Even you,you there,

What do you call this state of mind

when your head becomes your tiny,personal hell.

and now that you know me;you dont love me anymore,

(you are just like him)

Reviews

[.]

What do you call this state of mind
when your head becomes your tiny,personal hell.
and now that you know me;you dont love me anymore,
(you are just like him)

. the ethos of gender inequality ... expressed like only a truly beautiful poet can ... if i'm allowed to be ... i'm incredibly proud of you ... for this particular poem ... you give the west exquisite imagery ... and you bring to the fore ... a core existential issue ... brilliant !!! ...

[.]

thoughtful piece..you narrative is captivating..

[Robin]

your talent is to be able to pull from your heart the most intricate thread of emotion and hold it before our eyes .. amazing poetry ..

[Shawn Killian]

Dark, very dark. Most writers don't use the choice of words that you do.
Those Mestrual Reds Which Binge Ate
I have never seen those words put into a poem, making this unique. Unique is good, and i love the darker side of writing.
Very happy, love your work

[Coyote Poetry]

"we both wallow in our blood red impurity,
i want to daub God's face in red,
in my mother's nauseating reds,
those menstrual reds which binge ate
every piece of her sanity,"
The poem is very good. I had to read a few times. Somethings in life will never be understood. Create more questions. I like the strength and many directions of this poem.
Coyote