Devil's Laughter
Time came unbound
like your feather wild hair,
the feeling shadows of thorn,
endtimes laid on the plate
of a destitute breast.
It was hell dark
in the filthy theatre.
The
old ticket-girl sat nude
and tattoed, like Madame Defarge
knitting the playlist for the guillotine ball.
And so clicked the tale
from her needles to mine;
how He spoke to the girl
in the bathtub forsaken,
razor-naked and numb:
You die before living--
a sad backwards thing;
spread for me--learn.
He brought her in velvet
the delightful box of tortures,
the ambrosia of Tantalus
to put between her legs.
He artfully taught her
to rub out the human
for the animal clench,
to suck all the sweetness,
climb hard for the falling,
then took it away
from the mad thing a-mumble
in her wilderness skull,
wearing the blind face
of an ancient race
we can no longer know.
He left laughing
laughing
on His way through the endtimes,
for the First Days were forgotten
and Death held no ease.
~February 2013
© Black Wildflowers blog 2013
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved.
10 comments:
I want to write something like 'yikes' or 'ouch' but those are both way too flippant seeming. One cannot say 'raw' either as the poem is very finished, and the events related as if from a prior time. How about just 'deeply painful'?
The first stanza almost stands on its own, very beautiful--sounds almost like a lover turned John the Baptist, only plate is chest - and you is maybe not a lover either, but speaker - and theres a kind of twist/disconnect to the next story of the girl -
Looking for love in all the wrong places - it seems just terribly painful how that works out. Is it something the devil makes us do? Or is the animal clench something we don't need to be taught? Very searching interesting poetry--of course, well done. That whole middle part re Ambrosia of tantalus - agh. Just incredibly brave and well done. k.
damn.
vicious write...its rather surreal there in the movie theatre... like Madame Defarge
knitting the playlist for the guillotine ball....dang....and then the sex scene...its vivid gritty and raw...whew...as i said, vicious piece...
This was poetry that hurts to read. Otherwise I cannot add to what Karin already said
It was hell dark
in the filthy theatre.
The old ticket-girl sat nude
and tattoed, like Madame Defarge
knitting the playlist for the guillotine ball.
I live to read stanzas like that. Dark enough to keep my white ass sunshaded all summer long.
a crackling tale worthy of the most grizzly of campfires:
twisted sister, oh brother! MOFO and Holy father . . .
we have ourselves a killer!
A horrendous scene indeed! This certainly conjured a picture of a new reign of terrors...
Raw and yet full of original and surprising imagery. Loved it! Great sense of history too.
Hard read and excellent portrayal of the tortured souls of some, left to their misery by the uncaring minds of many...
Anna :o]
A beautiful tale, though dark and twisted ~ Specially like the middle verses where the images just knifes and rubs it so powerfully ~ Love it ~
captivating poem...at first i was thinking this is dark and then the beauty of your words wrapped themselves around me and i was in...the images are amazing...thank you
captivating poetry... at first i was taken back by the dark nature of your writing and then i was pulled in by the craft of your word and the images you provoke thank you
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