Brothers

Brothers

We bleed on occasion, but only in good humor. When the stars look like battle scars on the purpled skin of a seductive evening, and the smell of hundred year old Scotch dresses every dreamlike word. We speak of poetry so sexy that it refuses to be written. It just lingers naked in the mind rubbing moonlight on the long smooth legs that have danced until sunrise in ridiculous red stilettos, and then, when the pen dashes from shadows to capture its glow, it darts like windblown smoke through the cracks in stained glass time. The chimes of the old clock rattle our teeth as we peek beneath its oaken skirt to watch pendulums swing and brass gears roll like the fingers of starved lovers against the cruel plate glass of a prison visitation window. We sit around warrior fires and recall the faces of lost ancestors who swim like ghostly trout through the flame rapids toward some undefined destination where genuine laughter springs from emerald mountains and celestial silver birds leave blue smoke trails in their frivolous wakes. We close the steel curtains at the edges of dewy killing fields and dare the sad world to enter our mad domain. We dress in our finest clothes and do belly-flops into mud puddles. We bleed, but only in good humor; just to ease the tension of being left untouched, unbroken, un-spilled for too long.    

Reviews

[Kerry O'Connor]

We speak of poetry so sexy that it refuses to be written. It just lingers naked in the mind... Now that is an irresistible line. Yum.

Oh how every lovely word rolls like a pebble in my mouth... one to read over again.
I long to sit beside these brothers and soak up the tales they have to tell.

[Cocoacandy]

wonderful.. i love the emotion and the imagery... i found myself imagining the words at their full intentions other than their actual meaning... if that makes any sense... again, i love your writing... great work, keep it up!
*cocoabean*

[E.H. Monroe]

now why the f**k would you tell poeple what he do when we pull the dhaes back and watch the crapocolypse every wednesday? I mean you even told about the SHrek style mud belly flops..see..this is why we can't have nice things.

well done

[KatiePie]

Your poetry always leaves me wanting to read more. Not that it's unsatisfying, just that it's so good it causes a craving in me.

[KAREN]

Excellent write as aways!

[FireWoman]

You get it, you so get it. Perfectly conveyed in your swoony, swirly, kaleidoscopey writing style.

[freelancejouster]

ah, the tease of a line that refuses to be written and just sits there, preening for you, luring you closer before scoffing at you when you try and capture it. the tales we could tell if they allowed themselves caught... but that's probably why they amble away. there is no better dress to do belly-flops into mud puddles than my best dress, no matter my age, that will remain true.

wonderful. as usual.

[Sunny Skye]

Good job like always. Very good.

-SkyeBlanco-

[Esoteric Strand]

This reads like a compilation of various works all rolled into one. Several memorable lines, my favorite being the bit about belly-flopping in our good clothes. There were a few spots where the poetic thread was pulled to extreme lengths, but for the most part, the creative effort was wells-spent.

Regards,

E

[Deactivated_BurningDemo..]

Amazing, as always. :D