to be amended/addended



I am God, in this pantheon of flesh.

With my wine red lips breaking bread like bones,

I'll kiss my Lazarus-- roll his threeday stone.

We gasped gospels, as I wage holy war

on ties and bows, on your button nose;

let us waltz on water and drown.


Menstruation in this cyclic syntax:

a onceamonth method of bleeding out every child inside

that never came to fruition.

It only happens for the full moon--

I wear words, werewords,

in a sheepskin suit I fashioned after the likes of you.

I stretch my sinew and flash every tooth,

play the very part of a brute,

and say ‘I do, I do.’

But no! my dreams never really come true;

it's just the nightmares that remind me of you.


His mouth was a hinge with creaked jaws open,

and I stooped to look around.

I was accosted by a fat pink tongue in a tootight skirt,

a maiden thing of 15 years (you could still see the thin white sickle

where she lost a sliver of herself to overanxious canines--the thought!)

who whispered thick, hot things to me with a smile.

I begged pardon and hurried on, afraid of her round corners

and dark alley thighs.

I saw the unapologetic--those streetlit gods--

who sang their tenor manifestos with deep throats

and naked teeth.

And it was raining. Fat, sticky drops shot

like so much sweat from loaded skies,

from angels' drizzling brows, wetted eyes;

but! every Uncle Tom Cavity was sitting on respective front porches,

drinking lemonade sweetened with brighter days, and

sighing penned pride to be king.

I dove down the throat, just then,

birthed out the other end--

Baptized in a Lake of Fire,

a lake of stews and chewed apples,

a frothing fryer.

And I saw bones with the curve of you:

the feline spine and laughing jaw,

in pieces and burnt like a Jew.

Ach, du.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
i. i think this is definitely the best movement, i guess, of the writing. i really like the line about breaking bread like bones, and i like the religious imagery that doesn't come off as 'hey, look, i know stuff about the bible.' and the last couplet is fantastic.

ii. this is really great, too, but i think that werewords comes off as a bit of forced wordplay in this part. i like the turn with the nightmares; it's fairly unexpected with the rest of this section.

iii. this section is my least favorite of the three. it comes off as very forced to me. the phrasing of things like 'Fat, sticky drops shot like so much sweat/from angels brows, and their wetted eyes' seems off to me. i don't know why; it might just be because it's fairly archaic, or it might just strike me as an attempt to come off as exceedingly poetic. i don't know, but it rubs me the wrong way.

also, the line about the burnt jew is entirely in bad taste. it feels to me like a bad joke slipped in. i'm not really one for censoring what you are writing [as i'm sure will become clear to most when they read some of my songs], but there are definitely some things that shouldn't happen. i guess using the holocaust just for some imagery is one of those lines to me.

overall, the first two stanzas/movements/sections are really great, but the third could probably use some work.