Image: The Unbearable Sadness of Being by Michael Onona
A slurry soup through garbled voice makes me want to kill. First it was me and now it is you as I sit to watch and listen how you waste away while drowning in a finely fermented swill.
It matters not the time of day, or day itself or week, or year. For each moment passed just like the last. You drowning us first you, now me in a slurry soup of god I want to kill you, your slurry soup your thief of lives your finely fermented swill.
Interesting write Sara and it sounds like the Slurry Soup captures will the hypocritical affairs of a union of two that is slightly overdone or outdated and ready to be poured down the crapper. I like this one and it's openess to the readers interpretation.
- You qualify as the only Emotional Linguist I know. This thing is so intriguing and wormy... boring its way into the core of living life as a twosome. Where did you find these rosettes of reasoning? Amazing composition! Wow, and Wow, again! again!
- Bill
This is a real teaser. Slurry soup? Euphemism for life? Finely fermented swill? Fermented wine yes, ah, feremented swill to make it somewhat palatable? We're drowning in the slurry soup called communit, society, nation, world?
I love the sort of rythmic first verse, sort of descending bass line reading style:
as I sit to watch
and listen how
you waste away
while drowning in
a finely fermented swill
Put me out my misery, am I right with my interpretatin? My brain hurts.
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Ron
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I normally like to let my poems take people where they want to go, but I also want people to understand where I'm coming from.
This poem is about watching someone give their lives over to alcohol.
~ Sara
- Bill
I love the sort of rythmic first verse, sort of descending bass line reading style:
as I sit to watch
and listen how
you waste away
while drowning in
a finely fermented swill
Put me out my misery, am I right with my interpretatin? My brain hurts.