LadyBug~

Diving The Id~

I will hurt you on my rose
veining leaves with threads of apathy
sewn into my spine
little baby vines, in pale green
bioluminescent shell encasing my bones, 

speeding down the highway
of my line of fate
my palms painted red  

I carry gentleman twilight in dark smudges under my evergreen eyes
dividing smog with elomgated hands

beguiling dew at the corners of my provocative lips

iced water in the veins, chilling my pious hysteria
my apron, embroidered with violets and lady bugs

come undone under a monster's warm hands

Coke fills a woman’s laughing mouth
her isolation escapes me
a raw beauty, with tissue paper skin
a ribboned soul ;
throngs of feathered humans toss beads at her clutching talons
she taps her cotton candy lure in sweet minors on a piano's keys
stencills me into her wrist with a simple aria

opening worlds
where a Colt in a child’s hand goes off

with a Bang!
tie dyed splash of human blood and dreams

against the sands of Venice Beach  

I remember her alien excitement
it had a pattern like a lady bug’s wings
part flower
part ink
painting thorns and leaves up the sides of my waist

in a trail of salient love
quickening my escape from voracious gods
bromidic teachers
monotonous doctors
mundane wives, husbands;
I never really had a chance to be a human being . . . .  

I will hurt you on my rose
my elaborate complexity and agony razor sharp
charming myself into the tight band of human misery
splicing my cells until I'm a spot of organic theory on a specimen slide

a juniper mask, my disguised 
decorated with Pan’s lip print on the side,
Adam’s apple caught in my throat
my passion, threaded through with reluctant epiphanies
tied to my grace with Achilles’ golden tendon;
my wings are insidious little reds
with inky dots
so pretty. . . .so provocative. . . .

but I will hurt you on my rose
because that is how my story was written



copyright:2010vssmd/painc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

excerpt from

 

 

 

---

 

available everywhere~

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[OT]

ooo I found this quite dark - the "I will hurt you on my rose" is so menacing and becomes more threatening as you repeat it throughout and then the last line, I will do it, because this is me - there are lots of darker little images ("sewn into my spine") - apt for the delving into the id - the primal, sensory little creature - there's a touch of possible madness in here too and the descriptions so brilliant as always - "dividing smog with the dew at the corners of my lips/ iced water veins " - nice, nice, nice!!

[Jouni Sakari]

:) I started here my review on your poetry , searched your first here , found it . But as it's already been published I would not want to be known as critic . I liked it. Blessings J-S.

[Ashesh]

ohh i agree. beautiful things they hurt! .. but the pain is sweet. it transends to poetry, to paintings..
loved it!!

[Rossen]

Honed so sharp
you can brush
your finger
crossed it for
the sound of
scuffing prints
stop in the
middle...
bleed into
your palm
taste your self~

[Chris Smith Welshpoetcs]

Every rose hides the thorns, drawing blood. Beautiful things can hurt. Love this poem.

[al25]

I really enjoyed reading this. The poem is really dark which makes it all the more interesting. Genuinely enjoyed reading this. Great job.

[paul]

so soulful. line after line of brilliance

[.]

that is such a divine line..hurt you on my rose..beauty that cuts so deep..again another gem from you..

[Quinn Blackburn]

Sometimes people hurt themselves on their perception of who or what we are, and sometimes we hurt ourselves on that same razor edge. The title here caught my eye before I saw the author. Ladybug is a Creature Teacher that has been much on my mind of late. Their coloring is a warning to predators that they are dangerous if attacked, and they often bring us the message that a time is starting in which we will need to sheild ourselves from not only outside "pests", but our own aggravations. I can see those aspects quite clearly here, which I found interesting as it is most likely my own perceptions having nothing to do with the perspective of the author :o)

As always, so many wonderfully descriptive phrases here! I especially enjoyed the closing stanza. Something about this bit though,

painting thorns and leaves up the sides of my waist
quickening my escape from gods
teachers
doctors
mundane wives and husbands;
I never really had a chance to be a human being

called to mind the image of being tattoed along the ribcage with vines and roses . perhaps because many people will get a tattoo as a visible reminder to themselves, and a warning to others, that they are different from "normal" people; an emblem of their seperation from the conformative pack of general society and their personally acceptance and celebration of that status. Overall, this piece feels like revisiting specific memories, and left me wondering what events had inspired the write. The fascinating thing about art and poetry is that each person will interpret it uniquely. So much to ponder here, and so beautifully woven. Wonderful wordcrafting, well done, Dearheart!

[MuSe Ampoule]

If I wrote every line I loved in this, I would just be rewriting your work here. So many magnificent images, so hard to choose, but what stands out for me is this:
"I poured the Coke into a woman’s laughing mouth
her isolation escaped me
a raw beauty with tissue paper skin
a ribboned soul "

Your work is always so inspired/inspiring.