Belle

S****y attempt,

Solid effort stained my
middle finger yellow before nine
teen, a small foundation to steady perpetually
trembling fingers
as the others tap against the glass
my tongue runs along my lips
not rubbed out yet, despite
the constant application of a balm to
sooth and soften
blankly staring
tv blinking in the back
ground, at me

yelling about oil
split up into smaller parts and hanging
beneath the oceans top
of a man with rape in his
tool kit for
war, mass Viagra hand outs to help
control and fight and
f**k another generation
my foot beneath me taps in time
with the falling rain. I lean in and brush
my eyelashes against (the window)

tiny wing prints for the girl outside
to feel, she has no eyes
her face is blotchy grey and
purple, ring finger missing and where the soft
pouch of her stomach should
be is a hole.
Her rancid tongue licks
the glass.
I close my curtains 

Reviews

[LScottD]

Love the last verse...classic...made me laugh...then again Im not quite right in the head.

[Chris]

You have to love the news... when the local material slows they pass on the International Nightmares... some proven some not - and then all of us share day and eve mares.

I like your work Mal...

Chris

[Silent Lover]

Unsettling do doubt - This piece indicates the depth and willingness of your soul - The willingness to venture into uncharted land. Land that can be dark and scary, but teach us lessons none the less. Disturbing, well written, poem that bleeds.

[Kenneth The Poet]

This is haunting piece, like staring at a world that would rival Dante's Inferno or Milton's Paradise Lost. Gripping for sure.

[...]

. your talent always startles me ... you write a symphony each time ... a vivid, poignant and powerful symphony ... you are as gifted as a poet as mozart was as a musician ... this particular post is embossed in my heart ... for the title ... for the journey it makes ... for the distance it covers ... and for the brutal beauty of surviving brutalization that it narrates ...