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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Saturday, August 09, 2014


harlot hanging from a wire
with one hand and three feet
stars collapsing into flowers
blossoming on a mission to wilt
a homage to the nothingness of eternity
she does not want to pick them
so she shuts herself away from a cruel world
intrepidly wandering the recesses of her mind
escaping from the demons, stranded in purgatory
into the abyss of reflective cognition

powerless like an axe without a handle
yet she swings
on a pendulum of despair
locked into motion
hopelessly hanging on to a ledge
the heroin thwarts her clamber
the dirty stains of time cover her white frock
weightless as she kisses the moon
she dreads the rising sun
as dirty pictures encircle her soul
like a black and white film reel
she tip toes towards the edge of the world
she wants to see the drop
a recurrent theme, a sadistic dream
a collection of props
not all stories are true
some waiver between the bounds of fiction and actuality
the memories of a torturous childhood run through each waking moment
the devil beckons her to do his bidding
and in a moment of weakness she obliges
kills the enemies in her mind
but cowers before their presence
gravestones covered with blood and semen
she spilt her guts that day
a pile of maggots and piranhas
sharpened teeth and writhing slime
enough to bite the head off an angry bear
they told her she wasn't ready
too broken to pick up the pieces

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