Dividend.

Here’s a thought from me to you,

nothing equally divides by two,

the perception of equality,

gets crossed up with duplicity,

dishonesty, epiphanies,

the tattered wings of chivalry,

a vicious cycle gets pursued,

and chased down like a dog in heat;

Once again I’m on the move,

the disappointment is nothing new,

please don’t take it personally,

it’s not like you meant much to me,

complacency, mentalities,

the monarch of totality,

without a thing to prove,

the crumbled teeth of dishonesty.

 

 

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May 18th Poetry Challenge: Bite Me.

Mocking Bird Down

May 18th: Write a piece with the first word of each stanza beginning with a letter of the alphabet. 26 Lines.

woman-at-bar-painting-by-fabian-perez

Absorbed. Filled. Soaked in the smell of my morning coffee.
Body aching from the night shared with the awkward and equally
charismatic gentleman who made his way over to me only to
deliberately fumble. Stumble. Bumble. All to make me laugh.
Executed with perfection on his part. My reaction not quite what the
flirt wanted. My humour has a darkness to it that most find
ghoulish. Ghastly. Ungainly. Grizzly, even.
He gestured for me to join him for a dance. I don’t dance.
Imprudent of him, I thought. He appeared to read my mind and
joined me, sitting on the bar stool beside me, and smiled in a most
knavish manner. One I recognised and reciprocated with equal ill intention.
Lapping up every word I spoke, or at…

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Suffer.

She will,
only become,
aware of,
the severity,
in the things,
that she,
has insistently,
gone and done,
when she admits,
to the obvious shifts,
in the gazes of,
the Almighty Ones;
she will,
finally be outdone,
deep inside of,
the smoking barrel,
of a black market gun,
will she submit,
to the things,
that she’s let,
grow into beasts?
Or will,
the darkness,
finally,
swallow her,
in totality,
just to make,
itself regurgitate,
her existence,
repeatedly;
the day will come,
undoubtedly,
a day that makes,
today seem sweet,
like times of joy,
full of ease,
gobble them,
swallow them,
get down,
on your knees,
a day will come,
that defines suffering.

The Mirror Sestet Challenge: “Cat’s Tongue”

Cat’s Tongue

Thunderous were the nights that left our minds blind,
blind were the eyes – the voices of the Gods: thunderous,
Gone are the days in which we wore genuine smiles,
smiles that layered us with the dust of good days, long gone,
Time has been cruel and rough as a dried-out cat’s tongue,
tongue the inside of my many painful snapshots in time.

Behind shadows and darkness, the light will still shine,
shine down upon the carcasses of ourselves we’ve left behind,
Beneath the ocean’s swaying swells that lull the deepest divide,
divide the difference – multiply, delete what remains beneath,
Blind to the cohesive fabric connecting us along an invisible line,
line up the pawns and the rooks and the knights, the royalty is blind.

Let Go.

Mocking Bird Down

Bloody_Face_of_Bagul
Remembering you, is like placing my lips
on a heavy bottomed whiskey glass, filled
with tiny sharp shards of a broken mirror
and tilting it into my mouth. Slicing my tongue,
the same tongue that licked the blood from your lips
when you fell into my glass desk.
Tearing at my throat, with a familiar burn,
that comes only from crying so hard that the
salted grief becomes more acidic with
each clear recollection of
just how
fucked up
you
are.
The mirror catches the light, like you did,
but it makes me keel over; internal bleeding
and a searing pain, also familiar. Your calling card.
You found me when I was just a young girl,
and you added an unforgettable misery
to my world.
Your creation was my slow deterioration.
Your masterpiece was the physical
damage that would grab at me with it’s clammy hands
still, fifteen years later.

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Sledgehammered.

Like a bus

that couldn’t stop,

its driver, legs locked-

straight, baring down-

all the weight,

the failing of brakes;

beneath his feet,

where the tires

touch street

screeching, scraping

metal shavings

but can’t quite stop

in time not to

run right over me.

The Sledgehammer swings,

it’s wielder, well-meaning-

momentous force-

impact to the chest

sets into course,

broken by the best

of darkness creeping

in through

my own big mouth.

Selfish Timing.

You will forgive me,
if I am miles away, it seems,
do your best to just overlook,
torn out pages from the book,
fake that smile,
a uniquely outworn,
chameleonesque style,
you’d be smart to ignore,
my presence for a while;
You will believe me,
when I tell you the things,
in the long moments – left unsaid,
but genuinely and truthfully spirited,
walk the plank,
if it pleases your mom,
you’ve got history to make,
best take that shit home;
You will regret me,
for your selfish timing,
so many months within a year,
and you chose now to wing it here,
absorb the blow,
of the sucker-punch,
quit your slithering below,
own your bullshit for once.