I am a writer

 

 

your feelings lay waste      dead

on paper thin(king) epiphanies of my illusions of granduer

 

 

I am a writer and

your substance is extracted from veins  

       

depleted     

 

co l l a p s i n g

 

forever preserved in the waxy figurative I mold

you cease to exist when I dream in clenched sorrow

faced with what is        

left           

behind

like the morning after

fresh

road

killllll

 

How dare you FEEL and mess up my door mat!

sit              roll over                 play dead

 

How dare you live.

write it down

i will per      (use) you in the safety of my detachment   ality   

for

I am a writer

 

 

Go ahead and spit your juice that

lubricates my ride you are on

one way ticket

try to get off

 

long

 

d

r

o

p

 

it was never about you.  

 

 

I am a writer    and

you are such an a(Muse)ing little creature

stomped on

in    the    way

wrung out and sundried

 

 

leave now  I understand you

I can rip the petals of your flower and still smell like a rose

because I am a writer

and don’t you just fit nicely on page 27?

 

I have license to cower from the daggers of your truth

a bed of nails

embelished with the down comforter of my ego

I shrivel at your sarcasm 

reeked with iron(y) bars,       my prison

my head in the sand

 

I can’t stand thinking of you(r)    strength

my edge  (razor I cut you with)

will dull and rust

leaving me                    almost

human

a puzzle piece of the universe

 

no, I am a writer

 

I will throw you away and look for you

a perpetual pendulum of comfortable inconsistancy

 

How dare you live

How dare you feel

I may have to deal with you                                    on

 

my

terms

 

as a writer

a child still in oneness 

covering my surface with feminine jam

flies to feed on

 

I have branded your soul as a tattoo on my as(tral) existance

pondering you in moments of defecation 

forever 

reminding me of loathsome

self           (absorbed)

too bitter to swallow your brightness,                                   I see none

 

I write   but          you

you

you articulate (too late)

for I have bought and paid for my perceptions of you

and strength of mind and soul is not on my                   men(you)

 

I pretend you are rich, tangable soil to dig my roots into

But you are really nothing more than the

celluloid of a dead starlet

vindications

of my

mental soulmates

served up on a 

platter of prose(ac)

induced insanity

 

 

how dare you say I don’t care about you!

(I don’t care about you)

 

Are you reading between the lines of my opposing metaphors again?

 

you scare me and I run from you(myself)

easier           to         BE

than to be me

 

a writer

 

 

 

and

when you bite

my creamy center,

rich with verse,

tastes sweeter than your

congealed sinew of raging expression

 

 

 

how dare you try to love me!!

how dare you try to penatrate my womb of sacred brilliance

 

 

I will abort you!    

 

cut   

  

you    

 

out (off)  

like rejected 

cancer

r u n n i n  g     fluid 

my bloodied pain to be stroked by those 

 

 

so

 

 

unlike

 

 

you

 

 

I am a writer             and                                       YOU

you are pandora’s box

lid welded shut by my 

indifference

 

(fear)

well

 

I am a writer                                             and

 

 

 

I am writing

 

 

 

you

 

 

 

out

Reviews

[Dave]

Jiminy Jymeny there are so many great things about this. I would have to agree that you are a writer indeed. I enjoyed the added meaning to the lines and phrases that were accompanied by the parenthesis. I am a writer and you are such an a(Muse)ing little creatureThat one made me crack up. Definately a fave of mine from you.Thanks for sharing.

[Jeff]

I am not very technical when it comes to writing so I am sorry I can't give you any comments/criticisms in that area. I can however tell you that after reading this twice, I felt power in these words. Regardless of how they were written on paper, you exploded with feeling through what it appears as stream of consciousness. It was delightful and I thank you for it.

[V]

Dr. Dave sent this to me...told me to take a look...


yes....

you are a writer...

V

[G.f. Snell Iii]

Hi Kathleen:
Anger is a wonderful muse, isn't it? I like the ending -- but this puppy runs on way too long. You repeat too many of the emotions and I found myself wanting to skip ahead to get to the end. So my advice is to cut this in half -- because it would pack more impact into its hammer like blows as a shorter piece.

I also hate word play tricks in poetry -- spelling words like drop so they (wow!) look like they drop. You don't need to use those gimmicks in good poetry -- let the words speak for themselves and don't distract the reader by doing things like "iron(y) bars" or "killlllllll."

I can tell that you're still finding your voice -- and it will come as you continue to write. Nice job on this one -- very courageous and lots of dead-on emotional punch. I hate the b*****d too if he left me with four kids.

[Ilene M.W. Lush]

yo! grab that major life size eraser...write on!

this was amazing.. a man(a feast) oh...

loved it. thanks
i

[Barry S. Maltese]

LoL - You are a writer alright. Ranting about what touches your soul and copying those rants so they can be read by us - the undeserving - LoL - Great job!

[Carmen]

This is F*****G genius! I am amazed at what great work I have been reading today. I seriously need to get to work... Ditto what the guy below me said.

Trippy.
Surreal.
Fucked up.
True.