Red Ink

When the lights went off,
the executioner coughed.
They met at a pub
It felt so alive

He was feeling the love
So he read his note
and remembered his job
it was time to go.

Cheap hotel, wet clothes
Red wine and broken hopes
She had a confession of love
But it was spoiled by the clock

That noise is not the rain
It’s your conscience, babe
And you feel all that endless pain
As red ink comes from your chest

News shouted it out
A female body was found
She was about to divorce
Who killed this poor soul?

Although he was paid
he didn’t feel the same
He was used to this kind of devil fate
But now he was burning in his own
hell

And he had killed to survive before
Now he seemed to throw up that
gore
That lady deserved revenge and a
better stone
He had his gun in his coat when he
found his boss

That noise is not the rain
It’s your conscience, babe
And you feel all that endless pain
As red ink comes from your chest

He remembered that one night love
And her eyes when he shot
He gave the money back to his dead
boss
And took his destructive weapon to
join.

Reviews

[Mr Alednac]

The rhyme scheme gives the poem a sort of playful bounce to it but the content is anything but playful. Wickedly good story telling! :)

[John Sullivan]

Hello there.

To make a long story short, I like to spend my evenings reading a bit before bed, as so many do. I've only been a member of this site a few days, and so have spent the past few evenings here. Tonight, I figured I'd got through every piece on the "New Writers" list on the front page and try to leave a comment on each, as something of a makeshift critical writing exercise. In doing so I ended up reading your "Fault in our universe". With every poet or poetess whose writing I end up commenting upon, I try to read a few of their pieces to get something of an overall impression of what they're on about as writers. And in doing so with your work I found myself reading this piece.

I'm going to tell you what I told someone else a few minutes ago. In the few days I've been on this site I've read some good stuff and some... not so good stuff. This is, in my opinion, a good one. I told that same writer a few moments ago that perhaps some poets write because their words or thoughts on some things can't entirely exist outside of poetry, at least not as comfortably or concisely as they might within it, and I'd share that thought with you in regards to your writing as well. You've painted a curious portrait of a curious man and a curious woman wrapped up in a curious narrative. I think your reaching here, hitting the notes, and doing so well. As you've presented this as a third-person narrative, it would be unfair to assume that this is at least, in some part autobiographical, but I can't help but thinking it is.

Anyways.

Part of me wants to write a bit more, but I probably ought not to. Really, well done.

[Mrs. Charlie Brown]

Wow, Thank you (: I appreciate your review! I like your thought about writers, I find it rewarding. Oh you caught it haha, it's biographical. However, I changed some things, nobody died, love did... I think that is the power of writing, every line can be a mask for every secret... You will never know if those stories are real unless the author tells you.
I enjoyed your poem. Yes, I like stalking people haha.
Thank you for your words!
My best wishes for you and Ulysses,
So

[John Sullivan]

Just so long as you don't have my driver's license number, passport information, or inexplicably a copy of that really embarrassing picture from that time we took that trip to Florida in the 12th grade, I think we're good.

Hmmm. This is probably a bit much, but bear with me. I lived in Providence, Rhode Island for a time. In Providence, there's a bookstore called Ada Books, which was one of the better bookstores in one of the hipper neighborhoods, you know, that sort of thing. They, at least at the time, had a giant banner in their window that read "Love is a Battlefield." or "Love is a War," something like that. I used to walk by it everyday and it's sort of stuck with me. I do think that sentiment says something about things of my, and perhaps your generation, and I couldn't help but I think that maybe you've written something that tries to speaks of something at the heart of that, perhaps something of the way things work that people can't, or don't necessarily talk about. It can be tough to be fair about those sorts of things, especially when we're young. I don't know and don't need to know the details, but well done in trying to get the fellow in there too, as something of an actualized character. It doesn't always come across in writing of this kind that the opposite is a person too, and I think it does here a bit. I don't know, I hope that didn't sound weird or anything, but if any of that is close, and you think your writing might continue to go in that sort of direction, explore those sorts of things, I think you might do well for yourself there. "Red Ink" came together really well.

And I guess that's about that.