Womb Be Gone Eulogy
Voice cracks over frigid fabric, weathered "n-ice ‘n c-old" (Love this " ")
Wind torn, amid petrified space, turn inside out rip w-orn
Former shelve containment, cemetery bit grave cross bl-lines
Wake eulogy stillness backward, exhausts carbon d-ate r-ing.
Regurgitation rip composted, dry ice vine vermouth wh-ine
Toast burnt b-ears crisp bacon, lit over egg drop Cirque de-lay
Time twists taunt rubber b-and, rhyme stretched thin, wear die-pers
Baby, can thee cry brittle bones that bristle Wei skeletal key-notes.
Wry wrought, fraught fermented rock gut, swills drought doubts k-not
Daunt yea wails Hallelujah, drowning upon water dismal saving gr-ace
Womb be gone, be-witched switch, thrash ring flesh cutting razor w-ire
Guillotine head, detachment rolling stone, down frog and toad bard t-Ode,
Tale between, bewhiskered minstrels, betwixt but’s fable, bee such cable cr-ass
Butt run a-muck leaving trail de-composting humanity entrails, left over re-mains
Dost dye pauper poet, dew compost fluted words, people follow dead, numb, bl-ind
Rind the apple swirl, thee dye merry go round, ink pain stain spinning K-night m-ares.
Who are thee, having com-passion, wringing wine “Oh poor soul, they must be CROSS-ed”
CR-ass, who sip wine, bless ring the mass of home-less people needing Communion Br-ead
Beat hollow nations, upon times cremations, forgetting the Holocaust smelt war wrought be-gets
Oh dew fry die convenient con-scientious, We will re-write History, too die a-gain, and a-lone.
Crime be Grim Reaper, who profits from death curved blade blood stain serrated scythe cy-cles
Dost civilization knell swaths, drip drop icicle d-ripping, political life form frame flames f-ame
Oh see, vain vanity vein, hell in human trash denial, when One Man, say they Won - hate-thread
Be the sweet-tooth saber, wolf in sheep religious clothing, where war stars, starts pro-pogating.
Where does this poem start winding back to, biblical Cain and Able, trying to appease God’s L-ove
We must be J-ews, C-hristians, M-uslims, H-indu and even a-theist iN, I am r-ight m-inded zeo-lot
Like Cain, WE must annihilate the Mass Baptismal, the Womb bears, upon the world, bye hollow-cast
Bias colors, creeds, class, Too Bee dye religious name enraged, engaged, so much hate One Man-Love
Thus God lost his flock, they lost the A-mazing G-race Race -
to A-men awaiting on the S-tairway to H-eaven
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AS poets, philosophers, we write from our memory filled emotions, like your Japanese occupation intensity. While we tend to dwell away, there is always that Holocaust trigger point that lies deep in feeling poetry, poetry rehashes over and over, and then some. Yet, the story line repeats its endless lifeless verse that we repeat, repeat, repeat - as the grave markers line up one after another, hereafter in Dead Poet Society.
This poet in no way perfect, in the English Proper Language, a round the World in English Words. Why English, has it own Tower of Babel dialects, of amassing mass confusion. Why I have a friend from Yorkshire, and as a American in Texas, I have to tell him, slow down, as we both adjust our hearing. But, when I read his poetry, we both understand it. But then give me Old English, and the Celtic that formed our English language, me dost - for get me naught, "What did you just say."
I met a poet that sat on cold stone, they sat there so long, they became petrified stone. That someone etched a name, onto the grave stone Dead RIP Poet memory
Thank You Sir, you moved my HeART, now I do not have to pinch thyself a Wake.
Right from the beginning, I noticed your gifts with words, but I have to admit I was put off by the "marauding" looks accompanying the poems.
In my view, you lack restraint and control with your language despite the tendency to be recalcitratingly original in your expressiveness. For the moment, I'd say that's the primary defect. Perhaps there's an undertow of anger deviating and dispeling the initial act of poetising for its own sake. It seems to me you get carried away unnecessarily.
As for the content/theme here, it has been thrashed over and over again (who knows?) thousands of times. Nothing new!
There's no doubt though, in my mind, you DO have talent. It all depends on how you use it to welcome the reader.
Thanks for your patience. Wignesan