Raze

Dredging, but never cleaning me out,
Or it, or anything at all that has been before.
True roots tangled, anchored deep in witnesses -
Devouring my clear eye.

The ground above is soft,
Mud thick with jackboot prints
In all directions and sizes
Crushing their
Struggle onward. Marching to Prussian-blue stained air.

The view from the ground-bed, here and there a
Vertigo of signposts -
The shock still some way away.

I want this, this, and this, and that,
And your expression?
I want it looking this way.

My five million snipers crack prey,
A pop of ears begets another million dead,
So they say. Tipping the domino brain, the 
Iron Cross of Magdalene going on before.

They have wanted me, these pretty men
With their full eyes and clipped nails,
It is that Hobart Morris stare they see in me. 
Their whoring solidarity -
Their hatred of the ugly bra-less Liberators.  

Once I was cast as Palestine; for how he sought a
Refuge from paternal extermination,
Displaced from the love he had never felt -
Then accused me,
Sending me to strip naked and die.

This river cannot be dredged of the sweetest myths;
This dank hole of time running on empty,
The manacled Vacationer Bahía de Guantánamo,
The Arab,
The gypsy wife.

It is always the same holocaust of clearing out,
Praying for the dreich innocents,
Candles burning, illuminating the post-war
Neatly placed chimney tops.
Was it really just six million, and then me?

The Armenian suffocation, gasping, locked in Ottomans.
Imagine the red machete -
My dear love lying in the killing fields.
Rain falls somewhere.
No hatred. Not a genocide y’know,
I am all out of swastikas, picket fences, and gingham.

I am independent.

Another stole the last days of separation,
His loving words a fragile corridor of conditions,
I accepted, I believed.
He broke our pact and killed what he had made of us.

Oh the four year war I waged.
My four year plan of control,
My four year cleansing,
My Bosnian rape camp,
And my cyanide.

I am that sort of unfeeling tyrant, he said.
That sort of chick.

Reviews

[...]

hahahaha quit f*****g around and say what you really think! Omg you are so stunningly YOU. You know I will be back :)

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you! :)
-x-

[Ruth]

It is a powerful few moments reading you, then some ;) Intriguing, fascinating, bold and courageous, you are one hell of a writer ♥

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you dear Poppy xxxxx!

[Coyote Poetry]

"Oh the four year war I waged.
My four year plan of control,
My four year cleansing,
My Bosnian rape camp,
And my cyanide. "
A wild ride in your words and thoughts. Above lines left readers with question and thoughts of bad places. The poem gave me enough to create the need to know more. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Corset]

hmm and bitter don't forget that lovely word, like a finger pointing at all the trials and tribulations that rained down on our heads was somehow because of something we had done terribly wrong. How dare one hope to love or to dream in this world and should those hearts be dashed to bits how dare you still show your face in town as if you had personally killed his plant or something just as evil and wretched as having cold feet without a heat rock to warm them. Pffft, men ...they hand you baggage and then wonder why you carry it.

[Rosalind Gale]

Thanks my friend, dearest -
-x-

[Mickey Hilts]

Never sure where you get this stuff from, you've a mad, obscure and daring imagination. Narrative and story compelling, yet there's a sense of the surreal and the clear. It's great to read you as always, even when you're attempting new things or playing with prose often it's so much better than things you see on here. A true artist, thanks.

[Rosalind Gale]

Thank you Mickey -
-x-