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Death Penalty For Sixth Cousins

by Jersey D Gibson

Remembrance for the things I haven’t done yet,
This blood is thin or maybe I’ve just lost the bet.
I’ve made my bed, a bed of nails where I lay,
All the tomorrows I’ve gathered just to make it today.

In your image I have imperfected myself,
Subtle innuendos have robbed me of personal wealth.
Gripping this stone, cutting into my hand,
Shattering ideals that I once thought grand.

Break me up into piece,
Will this puzzle go back into place?
Split me up into fractions,
Someday soon will it all add up?


I’m blinded,
I’m scarred;
I’m just the myth of normality.

I’m beaten,
I’m broken;
I’m just the fate of compliancy.


Teach me the lesson of falling from grace,
Will these lies disappear when you rub them in my face?
I’ve dodged the bullet but not the emotion,
Death by a thousand cuts by false notions.

Tin gods pray to false idols on pedestals set high,
Can you even remember the last time you said goodbye?
Falsified this heart or blatantly just get caught,
Giving up all that I’ve ever sought.

Tear me down into portions,
Thrown back together into smorgasbord.
Rip me up into confetti,
Tape up the picture that won’t mend.


I’m trashed,
I’m forgotten;
I’m just the painful reminder of memory.

I’m stolen,
I’m hoodwinked,
I’m the lack of current symmetry.


Innocence lacking or faith of a bad sign,
Like a malignant tumor left benign.
Walking with no shoes on broken legs,
Endless consequences that begs.

Jumped up on the fact that away is the way,
Just now, I’ve forgotten what made up today.
Crumple up this paper that contained the dotted line,
My wrists are cut and bleeding, but I’m feeling fine.

Amputate me into smaller size,
Make me easier to digest.
Throttle me into asphyxia,
Make my words harder to hear.


I’m diseased,
I’m corroded;
I’m the poison of your surprise.

I’m petrified,
I’m immoralized;
I’m the trump card of your demise.


Hello, I knew you once, man in the mirror,
Poke out my eyes until the image becomes clearer.
Remember me for what I once was,
Drop the axe on my neck, just because.

Wishes fulfilled by evil charity,
Wisked to Never Never Land in full clarity.
See these lines I’ve chopped up for dinner,
Next in line to hell, and it looks like we have a winner.

Beat me down to minced meat,
Serve me up to all those who ask.
Pulverize me to the bare essence,
Scientists mystified by my existence.


I’m blackened,
I’m scorched;
I’m the survivor of a dead-end life.

I’m tattered,
I’m annihilated;
I’m the one dulling your backs’ knife.

10/28/2008

Posted on 10/28/2008
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/28/08 at 09:47 PM

...jersey, your work is getting tighter, it's always been touchy, sensitive and yet it's grown in a wealth of ways...soon won't be long!

Posted by Alex Smyth on 11/06/08 at 08:11 PM

I agree with Charlie, this is finely tuned and raw to the point.

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