I'm Hurt

art is the best masochism, do you even know a better kind?

Mocked by my contemporaries and audience

Well friends, they resides only in myself!

“Crucify the dreams”, they say

 

Oh! How many times?

Like a last growl of Elvis Costello

Or the instant crackling of a Bengali poet

 

Whose glass of rum isn’t lost on me

Though I’m sure we’ll never meet

This day is my reckoning, brass knuckles

 

My teary eyelids are obese with emotion

Am I a pimp of self-pity or just a gamer

Of the “yum-yum-yum” of inferiority

 

There is no bitterness in failure, maybe regrets

That I could tenderly tell my mother

As she grows old and somehow more mute

 

The inner critic, it is the last street lamp

A barren sunset I must live with for the rest of my life

With eyes that cannot break my own special night

 

With beauty locked with rounded eyes

I deliberately take on the ills of my friends

Until, my speech is no ordinary gospel

 

But the toothless mumbling and city-rants

Of those who never tasted champagne

I am a puddle-prisoned rogue, like attracting like

 

At least I don’t take drugs, but people have burst

Asunder, on less than my pedestrian grief.

Reviews

[olla]

there is a lot of emotion here.. and some really good wording.. I get the feeling that you are ranting a bit here.. and that you wrote it in the heat of a moment.. I winder if it might become even more powerful if one were to revisit in a cooler moment.. the point of the spear is sharp but it flares a bit.. even though I believe you saw your target quite clearly..

[Prolific In Verse]

Hey olla, I'll barter you some emotion for some sexy grit? When am I ever in a cooler rational state though? That's just it.

[olla]

and just what is it that makes you think that gritty sex is not an emotional state..

[Prolific In Verse]

hmm will it sounds like more positive emotion then! haha