1 John 3:18

To the children of the muse


1 John 3:18
By Naomi Jacobson


whose gnarled fingertips are a cry of virtue
of what glazed eyes whisper:

"i am not a creation
this is the result
of the hellish waybeing inside
the shell we shared"

with an eye glazed more
he shall mourn:she shall pity:
with violent desecration
the life drifted;
a stool on its side;
over the roof of a cookiecut house
in the center of the
batch

the feathered reaper booms:

"it was you! who so vindictively
breathed life into Him
in a cradle of powdered sugar
with noxious conditions

you did not understand; you did not understand
it is the blood on your hands
i sway gently before you"


integrity is godly, inquisition is divine
but he
was just a bundle of sticks, bound
together
by nothing at all

Author's Note

All criticism welcome. My first poem in a long time.
Inspired by poet Gwendolyn Brooks

The poem is about a boy who grows up in a cookie-cutter, christian, "family values" type household. He's gay, and hangs himself because of lack of support and acceptance by his family. The "feathered reaper" is the rope, and it is addressing the parents.
The definition of a faggot is "a bundle of sticks or twigs, esp when bound together and used as fuel".

Reviews

[¥Miss.¥ §M..]

i really like this, and it makes good since after reading ur note. Very well done, this is one of the best poems I have read so far. :)

[Charile]

Wow. I love this. Great job. Keep writing :)

[Naomi Jacobson]

@Cordy Thanks! Yeah I was fiddling with tension, I'm trying to learn to work that into my.. work. LOL
@Lys thankyouthankyouthankyou im about to stalk your s**t now kkthxbai

[LetMeLaughLetMeSing]

ohhhhhh wow that was really cool. breaking up the lines was a really nice touch, it adds a whole other level to this already-super-meaningful poem. ahhh.

[Ms. Starr]

metaphors, metaphors, what lovely lovely metaphors. your knack for writing captivating, if not slightly perplexing, compositions has not relinquished in the slightest.