Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Put Me Out Of My Misery

You think-------
I’m secure tethered to reality’s hitching post.

More like-----
a rabid stallion running before a raging prairie fire
escaping combustible desires unfulfilled
waiting for the spontaneous spark to ignite the impending disaster.

I seethe------
in bitter doubt and trepidation,
the rope insecure that holds me to the hitching post of life
bucking wildly on the inside for my release.

Wide open ------
fields of thought remind me of too much space wasted
inside complex theories of what was relative to me
and what should have been let out to pasture a long
time ago to breed new live stock thoughts instead
caged to eat bitter roots feed in disdain by scornful providers
of melancholy memories chewed much too often.

They shoot blind horses -----
why am I left un-mercilessly in the Dark
wishing the bullet would hit the bone of reason
as I pray for my tragic season to end.

Bury me----
in the winters gloom to reflect the light
and warmth I lost becoming frigid in life
foreshadowing my death state conclusion.

You think ------
I’m secure tethered to reality’s hitching post.

More like--
a rabid stallion running before a raging prairie fire.

Put
----me
--------out
-------------of
-----------------my
----------------------m
--------------------i
-----------------s
--------------e
-----------r
-------------y.

2-10-06

Beautifully done!!!

I love the horse theme and the analogy you use and the tricky stuff at the ending...

Great!

iblieve wrote: They shoot blind horses -----
why am I left un-mercilessly in the Dark
wishing the bullet would hit the bone of reason
as I pray for my tragic season to end.

I like the fact/lament without it ever saying if this is a blind horse. Kinda leaves me wondering--is this poem laying claim to a right or lamenting the fact that there's no right to claim. Good stuff.

I like this, cuts clean to the bone.

What's wrong?

Pretty much everything.

What's right?

Pretty much the same.

if it hurts, it's alive

of melancholy memories chewed much too often.

George Trakl comes to mind, his Melancholy Evening,
j posted it here somewhere.

Good imagery Ibelieve, I am There is a beautiful poem by judih languishing on the GO board. And I got no images to reply. I keep hoping and praying a poet will show up.

I have my own dead poets society, a lot of suicides among them, seems to be an occupational hazard for poets, especially women poets. I have learned a lot from the work they did during their lifetimes but I have learned nothing from their deaths.

if it hurts, it's alive

and me without my gun...
but according to mtmynd my words
are likened to bullets so if I find the right
words I could put an end to your pain...

hmmmm....let me think


take the reins?
maybe cut them.

JUMP!

or duck...
or both!

Is any of this helping?

Thanks "k" but no it didn't help, but thanks for shooting your best shot, sure you didn't load blanks today.


Wow thank you all for such great comments, appreciate it. "C"