The Bedlam of Our Bed

The Bedlam of Our Bed

A Poem by Vestigial Appendage
"

A short poem about my mate and I.

"

I wish for eyes shrouded in heavy doses

Of unwanted toxins,

And other, more mundane substances.

 

(But the slop renders the sides slippery, however tender,

So the miner cannot find his feast;

He many not stream great golden showers

Where some gem encrusted cavern lies�")

 

There is panic in the crowd�"

We push past the other guests

(Or so it seems)

But the bedlam of our bed--

Not bitter, but tasteless

Remains with no man’s drink,

Sweetly shared from head to mouth.

© 2011 Vestigial Appendage


Author's Note

Vestigial Appendage
My first post. Please tell me if you enjoy it! Many thanks,
VA

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

This is the kind of writing that I have spent hours mindlessly flicking through the internet to find. Very good work, keep it up.

Posted 7 Years Ago


I like it. It somewhat reminds me of the style of Roberto Bolano's poetry.

Posted 8 Years Ago


This poem is of a very unique style! Great way to stand out from the crowd.

Posted 9 Years Ago


A very strong poem. You left a lot of open doors for the imagination. I like the many strong statements. Could expand on the poem. But sometime good to allow the reader to use his imagination to create their own visions. Thank you for a excellent poem.
Coyote

Posted 9 Years Ago


The words you use...so passionate and evoking. Immediately images come to mind and then I sit and ponder the words on my tongue. Rolling them around for flavor, to spit them out and then taste them again. Very unique...

Posted 9 Years Ago


Your style is really unique. This feels smooth and well written. I liked your choice of words. Great write.

Posted 9 Years Ago



Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

291 Views
6 Reviews
Rating
Added on July 5, 2011
Last Updated on July 5, 2011

Author

Vestigial Appendage
Vestigial Appendage

Vatican City, Romania



About
My art is of that which sways, so gently alive by my hands threads, pleading mercy as the din of release fills and bursts the womb of words. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..