Wednesday, December 30, 2009

flowers of arsenic

remember I'm square.
Never got to give any
woman anything
before reaching twenty one.

Watching the trained beast
in chains and sweat soaked chemise
engaged in flagellation
I almost cried.

There's a killer out there
on the streets
looking for her master
while consuming the wine
in my restful chair.
You're no Nausicaa I
don't need a fucking fig leaf.

Master of the art
negotiate with me, I want it; I'm lacking this
refusing his terms until the trump;
necrophilia, nasolingus, needle play.

Summer's gone now
no dreams of seeds anymore.

Just close the fucking deal
it's a drive by contract
just follow the led;
acid of ants, of arsenic, of air
I wanted the fluid to disband me
long ago,
never asked for the crown galls
never, never


Anonymous said...

it seems impossible to remain innocent, and maybe it is impossible

Megan Duffy said...

Wow, this is incredibly sharp. The images and direct yet original language pierce like icicles. As I've said before, your work is so fantastically intense.

Francis Scudellari said...

The sense of frustration is palpable. The first line really sets the tone and it never lets up after that.

Jenny said...

PO, "flowers of arsenic" is a very interesting title. Related to this blog's title too. Also, makes me think of "Les Fleurs du Mal", which remains as an all time favorite of mine.

I really like your poem's last stanza. Great forceful intensity.

Anonymous said...

Thank you all, I'm always trying to find new ways of expressing myself.

Anonymous said...

By the way, happy new year to all of you.

Akeith Walters said...

Very nice indeed. I enjoyed this.

Claudette Cohen said...

Geez, that's amazing work. I'm blown away.

Anonymous said...

Akeith, thank you!

Claude, happy that you liked this poem. Thanks!

Harlequin said...

I like how terse and direct this is, so unapologetic
and the rhythms were... intriguing; tough piece and delightful on many levels

hema said...

thanks for you