Weight

This was frustrating for me and I don't like it one bit. Limited Edition---I'm probably going to take it down.

 

How many more

days and nights

shall I sit

here

like this?

My spirit limp

my hand

a fist

my mind

now

sharper than

the finest obsidian blade or

the sharpest English suit,

tailor made.

 

Explosive

and

vapid

at the same time.

Now...

transcribing in

rhyme

the wasted time spent

idle

with my

POSITIVE

and

negative

YES

and

no

facial expressions.

 

I want to kill

this poem

that I'm writing

right

now/stab it

furiously

with my pen

till the ink 

b

    l

       e

           e

               d

                   s

into the page,

shaped by all

the rage/fury

shaped by age...

and settling in

the lines,

the rhymes...

 

the poem's death

giving vital breath

to words that sink

the burden of my

heart deep in the

pit of my being.

My heart is lodged

in the bowels of my

spirit-animal...

so heavy that its

only shot at

liberation

is the murder of

this poem/this sacrifice

ink-blooded and spilt

all over like

sheeps blood from

hanging

headless

"gifts" in

native markets

with dangling limbs

in preparation for...

 

The consumption

by empty stomachs

weighed down with

all the rock-like hearts

they've collected,

now removed and

placed in carts

to be taken with,

away from this

dying spirit.

Mine is an owl

that sits

perched above

silent

while storms rage

violent and

worlds flash by

in the eyes of mice

sitting still

while my

spirit's eyes and

false wisdom

scan hard into

yours from above.

My soundless wings

beat furious into night's

breath as I swoop towards

then away and back into

my human host

whose wasteful time spent

writing this poem

could have been used

to climb down from

his perch and seize

the quarry that is

tomorrows fleeing

sorrow which can

no longer escape...

heavy from its

rock-heart

ravaging.

Author's Note

I rarely follow set schematics and solid rhyme schemes and if you're anal about that type of stuff when "reviewing" then you should either....
a. not review this
b. go smash your face through a brick wall
because you're worthless anyway.
Thanks,
Mike
P.S. No, I'm half-kidding (not enough coffee for me today)

Reviews

[Lady Lazarus.]

dear god mike.
this is something.realy bloody amazing.
The sad thing about poetry is we tend to be able to write with more passion and truth the worse our lifes get.
the words get easier as things get harder.
This is a poem of desperate pleading for it too be hard to write,hope that the narrator seems to not believe fully in and a sense of longing for something out of reach.
like touching life from a distance.

[Nik Dendera]

Feeling the anger! I know where you're coming from with this, the frustration of trying to write and it all just turning to crap on the page.

It's good, nice to show the actual emotions of writing.

Following the rule book with your work really wouldn't suit it. You've got your own sense of style, so screw the so called 'rules'. I enjoyed this and I'm sure others can relate. The wanting to stab the page was great and the image of bleeding ink was superb!

[Katrina]

wow.