Thread: Somebody's Gonna Get Hurt Real Bad

A worrisome rage
haunts and taunts me,
seizing every opportunity
to makes its presence known.

It infuses arms
floppy with disease
with the strength of Atlas
to fling whatever's handy
with such force
all of my walls are peppered with pocks
I've long since stopped spackling.

Sly as the first serpent,
it slithers inside my tongue
with the slightest provocation
hurling daggers dipped in arsenic
disguised as words
to inflict wounds left to suppurate
and scar unprepared recipients
with craters equal to meteorite strikes.

Its stealthy yet steady
infiltration of my eyes
distorts perception
turning tracks of mishaps
into full blown mutilation
while incessantly tossing coal
into a furnace bent on retribution.

It invades cerebral cells,
ousting peace as poison,
to chant reminders
of others' wrongdoings,
ceaselessly stoking tiny flames
in the hopes of conflagration,
intently seeking a smoke signal
to rise to the surface
and seep from my pores.

Its sole desire is to reign supreme
while practicing the art of puppetry.
First to incite,
and then to inseminate
others with its seed
thereby perpetuating its existence.

'Tis a worrisome rage, indeed.
for it has begun urging me
to whittle stakes
to display the heads
it's prompting me to seize
and proudly proclaim as spoils
of an imagined war.

Once the devastation of my actions
assures its progeny,
like a snake sheds skin,
it will cast me aside
to rot in some cell
wondering why
and a new mark will catch
a hint of disease on the breeze
as rage blows
into his periphery.

Lisa, this is one of your darkest poems where you describe, with great imagery,
physical impediments. Then exploring the ravages of a mind gone nearly mad
due to the bodily hinderances.

I almost hear you speaking from a fired furnace. This powerful.

Here, another one of your alliterations. You're becomming quite the master!

Sly as the first serpent,
it slithers inside my tongue
with the slightest provocation

Hard hitting imagery. Just my kind of thing.

More of, to my delight:

daggers dipped in arsenic
disguised

a smoke signal
to rise to the surface
and seep from my pores.

A very good and intense read!

Thought this was very strong and fiery. Very sad in how horrible the situation is. I like the closing note on how the thing moves on after it's used the host, makes it very sinister. Moving read.
-cae

I liek this one.

disgustingly beautiful imagery..
you caught me in a snare, and told me my own koo
I aught to cry and morn, you know me so
yet I knew it myself, and morn I do.

I loved your concluding stanzas too

arsenic ~ I read that as sarcastic and thought it fit well enough to suggest you perhaps considered a change. Then i read the next line. lol
retribution ~ unfitting. I think you need a synonym.

Rage at everything. Rage at the condition, rage because no one can understand. Rage because we have to depend, rage because we spread our rage. Rage because we have nowhere to go to rage. Rage because we hate what we are. Rage because we are really kind. Rage because we think no one can ever see who we are again. I think this is a powerful, sad, and terrorizing poem. I could feel it. Well done, Lisa

Wow. You've captured it so well.

Here's my only criticism: There's parts that don't seem to add to the suspense. For example, the line "infiltration of my eyes / distorts perception" is redundant. I feel the subject of wall-spackling, the phrase "tracks of mishaps" and maybe "a hint of disease on the breeze" are a bit flowery for a poem on rage. Also, acknowledging the desire of the rage is something I would leave for the end of the poem, since this done in real life (as the reader might subconsciously relive) often gets rid of the rage like a puncture in an air mattress. This kills all the momentum you have going for you with your vivid imagery of the strength of Atlas and the viscous war-like methods the rage employs. My smallest criticism is that I think acknowledging the sense of shame and the physical difficulty of letting go would add a lot of weight to the poem, but it doesn't really need it. That might just be something that would make only me happy.

In conclusion, you got it spot on, but maybe (as we all do) got a little carried away with your verbiage, and possibly missed the added dimension of the shame rage brings. I know that would be something I would include as that would probably be my motivation for writing a poem like this.

I like spackling. It was nice that it worked in all ways. Alliteration just happened. That's the way it seemed. Yes, it is a poem about a "worrisome rage" but to me a few of those flowery words or breezy phrases put that feel of -I'm not even worth being taken seriously.- edge to it, and by being a little flip within the story it tells me the character is very into those horrible thoughts but it's so scary that by kind of making fun of it tempers the truth. That is my interpretation , so...there!

Wow Lisa, I'm pressed for time as I need to go to bed for work tomorrow morning... so I'll have to keep this brief and simple for now (and will definitely revisit tomorrow to give a more in depth and detailed comment). However, I absolutely loved this poem, and I think it's my favorite of yours so far.

I've been reasonably content for a bit, so I've avoided revisiting this one to keep it that way. I apologize for the delay, and now that I'm pissed beyond measure, this is the place to be.


Dear Laurie, Like you, I am a sucker for sound, so much so, I sometimes get carried away, like in this sentence. This is a mix of fact and fiction, but I really didn't get it myself until I read your replies, if that makes any sense. You zeroed in on the thing that fueled that rage to the point of it being hard pressed to be contained, as well as the ravaged mind it left behind. It seems you know me better than I know myself when it comes to this one. I'm elated the dark imagery worked. Thank you for helping me figure out what it was I was up to with this. You are a true friend and being one made you grab onto the truth hidden within. Tracks of mishaps gave it away didn't it?


Dear Cae, I'll take strong and fiery any day, happy camper here. The latter half is fictional, and I am so very pleased it worked in the way I had hoped. Far more sinister to pin the blame on an outside entity intent on conquering the world, it makes everyone a potential victim. God forbid I should admit that something so vile actually came from within. Very honored you found it moving.


Dear Arc, I can't thank you enough for "disgustingly beautiful imagery", that's one of the best compliments I've ever gotten. Your little stanza quite intrigued me, I found it hauntingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing it. Thrilled the ending worked for you, also and that my arsenic intention became clear. Retribution is a mighty powerful word, but suits what I was trying to get across. I, will, however, take your suggestion on board and play around with some replacements to see if something clicks. Appreciate the time you took with this.


Dear Sondra, If you were here, I'd hug you to death. I can't believe how perfect your interpretation is, to the very last detail. You've been here, or have the most astute insight I've ever encountered. You, like Laurie, made me understand all my underlying reasons for writing this piece. I am truly grateful to you for helping me understand myself. Terrorizing is so very apt, again, unbelievable insight.


Dear Chic, Ah, my awful wordiness once again rears its ugly head. I get what you mean about infiltration/distorted perception, but in my eyes it's not really redundant, the invasion would most certainly cause discomfort but possibly not actual distortion. I need to rethink that, as well as moving rage's intentions closer to the end as you suggested. As for the flowery, Sondra called it right, that's just me laughing at what scares me, making light of dark in an attempt to survive intact. She's also right about spackling, that alliteration was unintentional and the spackling is quite important. There is a subtle hint of shame woven underneath, spackling is an effort to cover up evidence of violent outbursts, calling those verbally abused "unprepared recipients" also lends to an underlying guilt. Perhaps, I should add something more concrete to make the guilt more palpable. Ah, much to ponder, but that's a good thing. Elated you thought I captured it well and thank you for your valuable input.


Dear Drew, I've already explained the spackling. Love your suggestions, atrophying arms is great, I really want to use it, it smacks of a person in serious wasting, I used floppy in the hopes of a rag doll being envisioned. Need to rethink this big time. Not sure about hissing, I used slither so that it would seem like it physically takes the tongue over. Suppurating is iffy, too much time around doctors, it seems, I just may nix it as you suggested. Not happy at all with the meteorite reference, I just couldn't come up with something that would leave such a large scar. Will reconsider the line breaks, I wasn't happy with those either, kept playing around with them and would up settling. Excellent input, love, and I glad you liked.


Dear Sondra, Again, you're seeing inside my head and again your interpretation defies rebuttal, perfect, completely perfect. I love you, my friend, and thank you so much for getting me.


Dear Gore, Oh so happy you loved this, I had hoped you would and I consider that a compliment considering you write dark so well yourself. This, my dear, is actually pretty tame, I've written way worse than this. I look forward to any other observations you may have.


My deepest appreciation to all for taking time with this piece, which, even for me is a bit weird.

All my best, always,
Lisa

Lisa, I'm going to just think out loud here, all minds are different so these thoughts are only where my mind takes me, not a statement on your ideas at all.
　
A worrisome rage
haunts and taunts me,
seizing every opportunity
to makes its presence known.

This last line when combined with your latter reference to serpants, might be an opportunity to link it by using something to show a serpent's head rising. The phrase 'rears it's ugly head' is maybe too cliche'd, but something along those lines would help connect the images here. Just a thought.

It infuses arms
floppy with disease
with the strength of Atlas
to fling whatever's handy
with such force
all of my walls are peppered with pocks
I've long since stopped spackling.

I like Drew's suggestion of atrophied arms, it would work very nicely. I also love your use of spackling, it is a very clear image and the inference that spackle is used to cover up.

Sly as the first serpent,
it slithers inside my tongue
with the slightest provocation
hurling daggers dipped in arsenic
disguised as words
to inflict wounds left to suppurate
and scar unprepared recipients
with craters equal to meteorite strikes.

Love the use of slithers inside my tongue! Great imagery and the feeling that it's beyond your control comes through clearly. Also words as arsenic dipped daggers is a clear image, but as you're talking about a serpent you may be able to use the image of a serpent spitting venom here. Just another thought on connecting the images. Please don't think I'm saying you need to change this, I'm just thinking out loud here. I like the idea behind the last line, but I think you can re-word this. This line got my mind to thinking of how the people around you are like the moons orbiting a planet, and we all know how scarred and pock marked moons are. Maybe playing around with that thought and image will gell into a good strong line or two.

Its stealthy yet steady
infiltration of my eyes
distorts perception
turning tracks of mishaps
into full blown mutilation
while incessantly tossing coal
into a furnace bent on retribution.

Loved this one too. There is obviously a hidden, deep something going on here. Very dark!

It invades cerebral cells,
ousting peace as poison,
to chant reminders
of others' wrongdoings,
ceaselessly stoking tiny flames
in the hopes of conflagration,
intently seeking a smoke signal
to rise to the surface
and seep from my pores.

Wonderful!

Its sole desire is to reign supreme
while practicing the art of puppetry.
First to incite,
and then to inseminate
others with its seed
thereby perpetuating its existence.

'Tis a worrisome rage, indeed.
for it has begun urging me
to whittle stakes
to display the heads
it's prompting me to seize
and proudly proclaim as spoils
of an imagined war.

Once the devastation of my actions
assures its progeny,
like a snake sheds skin,
it will cast me aside
to rot in some cell
wondering why
and a new mark will catch
a hint of disease on the breeze
as rage blows
into his periphery

The images and thoughts these last stanza's show are wonderful, and I wouldn't change them. Like Caelum, I love the inference that it's like an entity that uses you, casts you aside and moves on to the next victim, or host body.
I think that Sondra stated it so beautifully, the rage at the rage. The helplessness to stop the whole endless cycle. Her whole assessment was so spot on, there isn't anything else to be said. You constantly amaze me with your ability to go on with class and style through such difficult circumstances! These little tips of the iceburg that you show us are very revealing when seen through the eyes of understanding. You are amazing, Lisa!

Dearest Cindy, Think aloud around me whenever you've the need, I fear I shall be indebted to you for all eternity for your observations and suggestions. You know I can't touch this until after "the big event" but I do intend to disassemble it and reconstruct it using the wonderful suggestions I've received. This piece hung around for a long time before it got posted, a line written here and there for the beginning, the ending in one fell swoop. It means enough to me to improve it to the best of my ability. S1 is blah, too blah in comparison to the rest. You suggestion of including the serpent reference will be honored, I really like that one. I'm glad you liked spackling, it seems opinions are divided on that one, but I'm fond of it, and Drew's suggestion of atrophied arms. That one struck me as a keeper immediately. Love spitting venom, big time, that one I will be using for sure. How wonderful it is to have outside eyes to connect the dots I'm too immersed to see. Sondra did me a great justice in sharing her interpretation, she did my talking for me. It's funny you mention tip of the iceberg, that's all it ever is, a skim off the top, I fear what's underneath would drive everyone, including me, mad. But I am grateful that which lurks underneath is still palpable to a certain degree to those who "get me". I think my stuff is a lot easier to understand to the few of you who actually know me. As for amazing, I'm honored but that word simply doesn't apply to me. I am desperate soul clinging to whatever existence I can in the midst of a big mess. One does what one must to hang in there, but if anyone had bothered to ask I would have said no thank you, pass this mess along to whomever is next in line. Can't wait for this to finally pass so I can stop my whining and write real stuff, I think three years down the tube is enough. Love you dearly, Cindy, you lend me your shoulder anytime I begin to stumble. God bless you.

Big hugs,
Lisa

Lisa,

So many great comments haven't left me much to add. I will say, though, that the darkness of this piece is balanced with its humanity. What I mean is, even as you describe the depths of your rage, we empathize and connect with you, seeing ourselves slipping just as easily into such a state had we dealt with all you have. I think the honesty of this piece makes it beautifully approachable in spite of its darkness.

J

Dearest Jeff, I love you. Like Sondra, you spoke for me. You knew I had anger issues way back when. The continued incompetence of so called professionals coupled with a severe lack of familial understanding of the situation escalated that anger to rage. I am not proud of it, it distresses me greatly, I wish I could be free of it, and in time, I will be. But unlike the "me" in the piece, I am not its puppet, for the most part I keep it quite controlled, caged, if you will. In caging it, I allow it to gnaw at my insides, but keep those around me safe from becoming its victims alongside me. As I said earlier, those who actually know me, find my pieces more accessible, as Cindy so aptly put it, illumination comes with understanding. You clearly understand me, my friend. Thank you so much for finding the good so deeply disguised in what seems to be only negativity. May God bless and keep you.

Warmest,
Lisa

W