vile

vile

A Poem by m.s.early

before her tongue sparks electric flitterings
wherein vile cacophony splatters walls
(perhaps her pride will never be extinguished).

can the tongue bless and curse?
her eyes are gleaming as her mouth is wielding
and those dreadful scars  lighted upon the shoulders
whether deserved or not.

can a fountain be bitter and sweet?
placed, supple syllables seared deep,
scratched the surface then dug for more;
there will be no word misspoken.

where does the bit get placed which steers the body?
her horse teeth chomp freely;
(she is no wonder riderless),
and her reigns were left stabled.

she belches up flowers,
they have lost all their sweet.

the wicked prepare to denounce her.

© 2014 m.s.early


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Hmm? I see a woman marred by lifes pain. She is a mixture of dark and light...bitter and sweet but the bad is starting to over ride the good. Soon there won't be anything left but the hurt thats eroded her from within. The flower she once was has wilted and died. Your last line makes me think of those that point fingers and derive pleasure from the downfall of others...criticizing the very ugliness that exists within themselves.

Posted 10 Years Ago


I thought you were talking about....me! This is so me...and I am not proud of me.

can the tongue bless and curse?
her eyes are gleaming as her mouth is wielding
and those dreadful scars lighted upon the shoulders
whether deserved or not.

This is a brilliant write that underlines the destructive power of the tongue. Yes amazing isn't it? How the same organ can bless and curse, kill and resurrect! Awesome!

Posted 10 Years Ago


this is metaphorically brilliant...

you carry it through so well....

where does the bit get placed?

and some people can be bitter and sweet at the same time...so can love.



Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on February 23, 2014
Last Updated on February 23, 2014

Author

m.s.early
m.s.early

VA



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"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..

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A Poem by m.s.early