Thursday, March 18, 2010

Poetry > Rage

It took me a while to channel my rage into poetry, it helps that the Writing Competition due date is tomorrow. Here goes...

“Coward”
By: N. Myrick

I simply shake my head at you —
sifting Voltaire,
and off of your Vanity,
peeling layer
after odious layer.

Noxious waves flow —
from your deceitful hole.
Your Silver tongue spews,
blames and excuses.
It penetrates my nostrils, ears and bones.

So flee, coward, to your layer —
stew in blackest dank and putrescence.
And concerning wrath and ware,
you’ll be in my prayers.
Your heart so full of fear.


And for the ex-wife, of course...

“An A Flat Major Kind of Day”
By: N. Myrick

It’s an A Flat Major kind of day.
The landscape entombed by apathetic snow.
Frost fills the inside of my small vessel.
As an already dank morning sits on my head,
sinking claws of still dissipating wine into my scalp.
All fibers forebode betrayal—my unconscious stirs.

My head swims as I re-enter our happy home,
And there you sit, perched frozen in icy guilt.
Barely look at me — go ahead and
pull the strings of your puppet dad—
or the boyfriend figure with dumb beady eyes.
Do I not look surprised?

It’s an A flat major kind of day.
An ugly key in which we play.
Beautiful, sorrowful, though,
sharp tones and major falls paint our trials,
with indubitable plotted perfection.
Marks the beginning of downward progression.

Returned again upon sunlit afternoon reeling ambushed rejection,
steamy eyes, searching for a couch on which to cry.
But the floors are as barren, as your heart is for me.
Upon discovery, you both emerge and smile audaciously.
Nodding in repugnant realization I exit,
the human fiends — leaving them to dragonish subsistence.

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