Cause and Effect

just my imagination.... Derive your own meaning, my friends...

Shattered Smirnoff bottles of
                     Butterfly wings,

                       Broken dishes...regret

Black Velvet horses beyond reason...

Time can never mend reckless whispers;
                     Do you bleed as I do?

Author's Note

This is a short one although I felt I said what needed to be said... Sometimes life is not pretty, yes?

Reviews

[Bertie]

This is almost as if you've taken the images of some nightmare and thrown them onto a page. So intriguing, jagged and poignant all at once !
You've done a phenomenal job with very few words.
Well done :)
And thank you also for the review of my work.

[Emily B]

sometimes life is not pretty, but it is always beautiful . . .

[These Haunted Hallways]

Oh, yes, i go thru hell everyday. My work, alone, is a hell heh. Excellent description tho, no doubt. I think u did a wonderful job with it; and excellent picture, too!

M.

[Wicahpi]

yes ... sometimes that is deadly true
image is sad, but befitting!

Message received in short!
Nothing more needed.
Thanks for sharing!

[Clockwork]

It would seem to be the retelling of a partnership or marriage that has broken apart. Yes it is true that life is not always pretty, but sometimes it is what comes from the ashes of the phoenix that changes ones life, although it does not make experiencing them any easier.

P.S: I liked your comparison between butterfly wings and broken bottles.

[Coyote Poetry]

I know the feel of this poem. Never broke dishes. But I met Black Velvet and Smirnoff. I agree with the ending. When the damage is done. The bleeding will begin. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[.]

I love this poem--very very creative imagery-and
the format makes you feel the 'shattered' mood...

I really love this poem!!!
...very affecting...

james:-)

[Pax Analog]

Another poet used that cross-through, and I remarked it was like deconstruction, everything being "under erasure," 'cause tied to the shifting paradoxical sands of language.

This poem's distillation (from distilled spirits ;-) lends an almost haiku-ish quality to an emotional "crime scene."

Look at me, I'm "Shattered." There's always breakage. We want to break out, break through, but most are bottled preconceptions. I've never met anyone in person, or in cyberspace who WASN'T a bottled preconception. Hence my attention to an a priori sense, before the bottling of incarnation. Typically, we look for some vague amorous understanding from those just as deluded as ourselves. The cause and effect of our bottled gestures is an unending round. "Acausal" wrinkles the brow of the bottled soul addicted to bottledness.

Smash all the bottles. Recklessly whisper in alien tongues. That amusing ritual of glasses smashed at weddings comes to mind. Bleed through to the infinite sky.

Unbottled, I find the accompanying image more tonic than tragic.

[Michael X]

no doubt brilliant, i loved the heart- artful concept. very dark, awsome job!

[Jibey]

You do find some powerful graphics to illustrate your thoughts... and the sense of fragile breakage and bloodshed comes across in a vivid and challenging way here..

What is broken can sometimes never be mended, that's for sure... but there is always the wondering about how the other is faring...