by Laura Doom
lost words collide
opposites attract and die
pink perceptions multiply
the body flies, the mind divides
between self-righteous suicide
and giving head to wounded pride
that paranoia seeks to hide
a kiss of dearth the heart defies
games theory puréed and applied
its subtleties solidified
in play, once mocked, now cut and dried.
the queued commuter cache
of constipated feelings crashes
heads are turned - the crisis passes
etiquette reclaims its place
shuttling through soberspace.
Aesthetics fucks ascetic bores
as convolution's hallowed floors
engender androgenic wars
discharged routinely on all fours
by herds of senile pornivores
a rabble roused without a cause
beyond pronouncing abject mores
(Da capo for subversive lays)
in halfway-houses, Titans' whores
will take this shit for scant applause.
Behind the slam of killing doors
my existential pregnant pause...
in stillborn tears
that reduce me to lies.
I refuse to take sides.
Stirring words distract and die
as old excuses coincide.
Posted on 06/24/2008
Copyright © 2020 Laura Doom
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 06/24/08 at 09:34 PM|
...oh, laura, you and your aesthetic whatchamacallits, i felt the [pardon the pun]throb of this one and it never needed any breathing, each line sequed into the next and didn't "out do" the prior...good[seriously]expression of anger...and the words are solid, not spewing-uncontrolled-rage, just 'look buddy re: joe, or the whole world, i've had it to up to here'...eh?
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/11/08 at 12:47 PM|
what can I say, Laura, but I get such feeling when I read this ode as knocks me on my divan and causes me to curl and wonder how wonderfully you've handled it all.
|Posted by Ulyss Rubey on 09/05/10 at 11:39 PM|
Great read. I joyfully devour your inventions so aptly embedded. You must publish a dictionary of them to be stolen and claimed by
enterprising psudoauthors to use in their titles. eg
"Pornivores in Soberspace" ;)