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miyako73
07-13-2012, 10:07 PM
Bursting pimples and follicles
Pregnant with pus and blood,
Gangrenous, red, and fetid,
I prostrate on the hard bed
Of rusting nails and shards
Of broken glasses and mirrors
Cutting deep my willing limbs
That gush water and perfume.

I whisper my lament as prayer,
And sing my dead breathing
To the gods of painful creations
Distorted by haze and smoke,
To the lustful angels in silence
Dancing on the floating glow,
To the saints of dead sinners
And murderers now flagellants.

Only the deaf spirits of the old
See my woes about the dawn,
Feel my cries against the dusk;
They drag my soul to the abyss
And chasms of the deep and dark
As if everything is a child's play
In the green meadow or the park
Where my breaths jump and run.

Mutatis-Mutandis
07-13-2012, 11:51 PM
The first stanza sounds like Cannibal Corpse lyrics.

miyako73
07-14-2012, 01:06 AM
Thanks for reading. It makes sense--my current state of mind is between violence inflicted to the self and spirituality intended towards the unseen.

Mutatis-Mutandis
07-14-2012, 01:30 AM
It's quite a good poem. I enjoy most everything you post. You write with a dark tone that I love.

Jeos
07-14-2012, 04:50 PM
Fine poem indeed...Not a single gram of fat.
"spirituality intended towards the unseen." - the unseen within the seen or the unseen unseen ?

Delta40
07-14-2012, 06:45 PM
Thanks for reading. It makes sense--my current state of mind is between violence inflicted to the self and spirituality intended towards the unseen.

Yes but you have a way of writing it so beautifully miyako