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Axilea MU

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Post-catastrophic
by Axilea MU

Saturday, June 16, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
•  Simply-fire
•  In Transit
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           >> View all 270

 The liquor was thick, dark

like the end of the night

when I saw you spill anger

anger and bitterness

claustrophobic bitterness,

clinging, oh clinging

and the liquor was sticky

under the glass, on my fingers, even…

              and you were clinging to little problems

 

magpies wake up

      the first lights

      invite themselves in

with whiffs and winds of the outside

world, while you are         speechless

at last, at last, you stop

                                         and I breathe

now, scribbling words on a bit of greasy paper

to offset your catastrophic strophes

 

Goliath sat at our table

and Cthulhu’s, Krakens and Tyrants, all night

but when the light comes in

ice cubes dissolve

forming a tiny pool of water on the table

and cold ashes that fill the ashtray

mark the end of your late

childhood and lingering fears

 

I wish you would see,

the light that catches up

with the world inside

and dances on my teeth,

as I smile. I wish you would

forget about the monsters

in your belly:       morning has come

it is time for your courage to wake up!

 

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Reviewed by Asa Seeley 6/24/2012
thank God for morning...that pulls out of the darkness(liquid or solid)of 'night'...and beckons us to 'the start'...of a new day. thanks for the share

asa
Reviewed by Jon Willey 6/24/2012
nighttime is a cogent ally of fear and irrational persuasions and alcohol a potent tonic, ushering in self doubt and maudlin frustrations - this flowed like the melodic whir of a well oiled antique foot treadle powered sewing machine - smoothing his vituperation with the light you permitted to enter - Axilea your "Post-catastrophic" is a work rich in entertainment - I wish you love and peace my dear friend - Jon Michael
Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather 6/24/2012
the truths and fears in a state-of-being, how they like to come out and play. to hope for a new begining. fantastic write, Axilea.
Reviewed by D. Vegas 6/20/2012
Axilea, Alcohol brings out demons,the dark side and everything in between...another great poem!

Always,
Deborah
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 6/19/2012
How the night does indeed increase the size of the shadows on the wall both inside and outside our heads, rendering what is, in daylight, just an innocent, innocuous ice-cube puddle into something altogether more menacing - viscous, sticky, stinking and tart to the taste, like blood. It's difficult to be a part of another's nightmare, Axilea, and paraonoia or psychosis is very hard to live with. The catastrophes of night are almost the stuff of dreams (or rather, nightmares) in the cold, reductory light of day. I love the way you are so elliptical in your portrayal of such things, as if almost to enter into that other world yourself while at the same time remaining detached and objective about it. Can really feel that desire to wake up! xx
Reviewed by Charlie 6/17/2012
This reminds me of Mary in "A Little Princess"--left to wander and wonder-- but it also reminds me of some of Jewel's songs when she sings about her mother-- her, mothering her mother--. There are some strong images and more than that, other sense-ticklers as well, to the point where we can nearly taste, feel and smell your poem.

Also, chacras come to mind, as in one poem you'd mentioned "the bell in my belly" (I've always loved that play on words), and in here you mention "monsters in you belly". It reminds me of a modern dance class I took, where we had to find our center chacra-- our belly-- and every movement pivoted from that point. To have a life pivoting around monsters would be fear-inducing to say the least. That the monsters only exist in her guts, tells us she's a hollow turning point-- a meaningless life. Very sad. So while she's offbalance, and unable to dance, the writer is so full of light and life, it fairly dances off of her teeth.

So many things to think about. Bold, but not overbearing. --Charlie
Reviewed by Terry Rizzuti 6/17/2012
Very good description, Axilea, one of your best.
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 6/17/2012
Powerful words describing a bad relationship. Why is it that women often to someone they think is the man, but it's only a child who has figured out how to grow up? Using alcohol to fuel his tantrums.

Ron
Reviewed by Lily of Lough Neagh C. Dennis-Woosley 6/17/2012
For one must become brave and face their fears and not find courage in a bottle or strong drink. Some pain is too harsh to face for some, I had an Uncle who lived within a bottle. Quite sad

Wonderful expression Axilea

Love and Light
Lily
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 6/17/2012
Facing those fears is where the power begins, your words are powerful as a matter of fact~
Christine
Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE 6/17/2012
...ardent, authentic, and assiduous... there is so much edge to this piece, but there is also a crisp, cutting balance and a symmetry that smites with a resonant iterative temerity... a truly excellent poem, Axilea... If this were addressed to Cat Stevens, he'd say, "I've found my hard-headed woman!!"
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 6/17/2012
The wreck and ruin / The pull and heave / Clinging to old demons / The poet, of course, the poet / Trying to arrange her thoughts / About the demon accosting her



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