Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Brutal edge
taps fingers,
in peripheral
visions
around my
heart.
Suddenly,
in a flash
against my will,
i'm up
against the wall,
sliding down
luck's crumbly
plasterboard,
holding on
too tight
to gullible
clenched fists.
Once captured,
I'm blindfolded,
to witness
our pictures falling,
severed heads,
too broken
this time,
to make
a shatter;
desperation's
puncture,
is a slow
rancid rapture,
starts in toe,
runs through vein,
after vain,
surging,
defying,
a mere poker
face away
from blowing out
all the fuses,
of my flickering,
wavering,
plugless
electro-
lytes.

In love we are losing the game if we have to wear a poker face. I love this poem my friend.
"C"

hester prynne wrote:against my will,
i'm up
against the wall,
sliding down
luck's crumbly
plasterboard,

too broken
this time,
to make
a shatter;
desperation's
puncture,
is a slow
rancid rapture,

The whole piece drips with deep images. The above two sections are my favorites. I really like the way emotions seemed tied up in architecture and biology in this poem. My favorite painter is Frida Kahlo; this poem took my thoughts to her art with your words.

I thank you for your responses and for reading this.

I was having these "overwhelms" yesterday and I got some relief from writing, (attempting to write) about it....

I thought about calling this "my big wet poem".
Heh.

Anyway...I thank you with big wet smoochies.

H