I want to know if you have ever put metal to metal, wood to wood, smoked laced weed with the junkie down the street who just sold you for his cure. You walk away tasting the inert ache of blackened dust.
Pieces, pieces, all just infinitesimal pieces that epitomize the blind reflection of dis-ease. You have to feel the pain. Eyes never see it, they don’t grasp the sting of being thrown, earth-bound in the middle of a sodden dream.
The soul-jerk cut of reality: is it jagged, is it straight? The straight slice is solely a facility, that barely bleeds. But the serrated wound, the zigzagged laceration, is what time it all begins.
"But the serrated wound, the zig-zagged laceration, is what time it all begins." Oh Maria, this cuts to the quick for anyone with chronic or terminal illness or who has been a caregiver of same, or who have known someone who took their own life! "...the sting of being thrown, earthbound in the middle of a sodden dream..." Incredible write!
I missed this one and I'm glad I sniffed around for it. I can't stop saying "The soul-jerk cut of reality". Expertly rendered. You speak these words with the intimacy of a lover. It's truly chilling. I wonder, would you do me a favor?
This again a poem about existential struggles, about duality...a psychobiological journey. I sense a Plathian atmosphere in this dark gem of a write. I am not convinced with enjambment decision in S1 L7 & 8. S3 L8 sounds a bit choppy, but then these can be my problem...
I loved that irony, I won't call oxymoron, at the end which can so well suggest "it is life, it is mortality" as well.
My black side loves this, Maria; the white side also says it is excellent poetry and acutely developed as a premise as well! Ah yes... how surgical is the straight blade, but the turning of the screw is what is required for the outside to hurt more than the pain that rankles invisibly inside sometimes. Back into Anne Sexton: "But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know "which tools". They never ask "why build". You lift the lid on some of the thought-processes which contribute to the desire to self-harm or self-destruct here. Brilliantly done. TY Kate xx (PS wrote a poem, "Singing" which thinks a bit about this...)
This poem rocked me into that uneasy place where we have been and wish we had not trod...it is dark and covered with cobwebs and it gives that sick feeling in the pit of the stomach that reminds us that we have done something that goes against our self-imposed moral code.
Take care,
Sherry
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I missed this one and I'm glad I sniffed around for it. I can't stop saying "The soul-jerk cut of reality". Expertly rendered. You speak these words with the intimacy of a lover. It's truly chilling. I wonder, would you do me a favor?
Peace,
B
Regis
I enjoyed the starkness and beauty of this poems rhythm...
Paul;-)
I loved that irony, I won't call oxymoron, at the end which can so well suggest "it is life, it is mortality" as well.
TP
TRASK
Love Tinka
grasp the sting of being thrown,
earth-bound in the middle
of a sodden dream.
excellent insight, Maria ... a stark glimpse into reality ...
can express everything that is felt.
All our emotions! You've moved me with this.
Your pen is so potent when you use realities ink, it hurts;-)
Excellent perception...
Eileen
Felix
a dark piece which illumines a portion of life no always seen
good write
john+
Take care,
Sherry
Peter