Thread: A Piece of Feces for David (which went right over his head)

Go hobnob with the certified.
I prefer to be on the outside
looking in
although I wish I were blind
to save these orbs from sin.

Best to only skim the outskirts
of your world
which reeks of trickery
and the salty tang
of stabbed backs.

All in your realm
erect pedestals
of piled up prevarication
on which to display
the gods they worship
in their mirrors.

Pats on hole-riddled backs
(it's a cheetah eat cheetah world)
to those with the most ornate.
Those pieces of paper
you all hold in such esteem
mean nothing.
Cramming doesn't remain
in the brain, fool,
you're all as clueless
as those you are slated to save.

You label me talentless
and call my poetry crap,
too bent on making love
to your mirror,
you can't comprehend it.

Pick a piece, any piece,
and you'll find more veracity
than can be culled
from all of your cronies combined.
Even my fiction
is more real than you'll ever be.

This one's for you, dear,
(my pen is my best revenge)
and the piece of paper
I scrawled it across
has more value
than the undeserved
Fire Department nod
you and yours revere.

And for the record,
I most certainly am certified.
That yellowed marriage decree,
stuffed deep in a drawer
to keep bile from rising,
declares it to be so.
Surely I wasn't in my right mind
to utter I do.

In the end, truths and mistruths
are all revealed.
I suggest you start
scribbling crib sheets
for your biggest exam.
God will be your proctor.

Good luck with that.

Sounds like somebody raised your ire. Certainly powerful stuff, it reads like it was written in anger with steam coming out of your ears. The title is a cracker. I like the second stanza, "the salty tang of stabbed backs."

Now take a few deep breaths CD, hold them, then ease them out...

Writing can be a cathartic release. Thank goodness for that! Strong words CD.

Wow, Lisa.... as Vangoghsear stated, writing is very cathartic and this poem seems as though it served that purpose for you. I certainly hope so. As you mentioned in the poem, you weren't in your right mind when you married and said, "I do." And asking that God be his proctor in this exam. Must be a very difficult one in order for you to wish luck on him. I do hope the writing of this poem did l allow you to blow off some steam. Hope you're feeling better.

Originally Posted by Chester's Daughter

Surely I wasn't in my right mind
to utter I do.

In the end, truths and mistruths
are all revealed.
I suggest you start
scribbling crib sheets
for your biggest exam.
God will be your proctor.

Good luck with that.

This's some angry **** boy, ya'll needda get yo head'checked.

^ Yeah, what he said. (Ducks.)

*note* The above quote is from a work of literature. Not my words.*note*

I felt the heat coming off of this one, sweetie. Hot words of truth, I hope they seared him where the sun doesn't shine.

La da-da da-da!!! Just taking a stroll in here. Not doing anything wrong

Strong stuff Lisa. It's been a while, nice to see you're still your expressive self. That pen of yours surely is sharper than most tongues I know.

All the best,
Martin

Never, ever, poke at a pain-wracked poet. We bite, then paint pieces with any drawn blood. lol. This is my incessant inner simmer which leaked out of my nib, it is a bit much and I apologize for it. I fear that most of it just might be hard to follow to those who don't know me well, I hope his profession is hinted at sufficiently to make a little sense. And I'm sorry for the delay, I've been unwell and worried it might be thought he offed me for posting this, yeah right, he still doesn't get it.


Dear BB, Thrilled you liked the title, love, agonized over it terribly, so happy it works for you. That goes for S2, also. Yep, I was pretty miffed, I always write when I'm like that, but I usually attack subject matter different from what is really bothering me, this time, I just couldn't.


Dear Van, Wonderful to have you back, love! I hope the title didn't steer you in the wrong direction. lol. Believe or not, my demeanor remains as calm as a sleeping lamb, but I took those breaths anyway, lol. My facade never reveals the inner turmoil, never let 'em see you sweat. As for cathartic, oh yes, this did me a world of good. If it weren't for poetry, I'd either be mad or serving a life sentence at a maximum security institution by now. Long live the pen!


Dear Nellie, Much better, thank you. He'll never pass the final exam unless he changes tack. I try and try, but the decision must be his. It's so sad really. Truly appreciate your kind words, love.


Dear Die, No need to duck, love, but I would love to know where the quote comes from. It's true a head seriously needs some shrinking, but it's not mine. lol. I am so happy the anger came through so much it prompted you to post that quote. Better to seethe in type than to pick up a pipe.


Dear Cin, I love you so much, you clever beast, you. There are better parts to be seared methinks. lol. I know you got this better than anyone, but it was quite pointless, right over the loathsome head, *sigh* as usual.


Dear Martin, LOL, you are too sweet, love. No tiptoeing necessary, dear, you're more than welcome here. It takes a whole lot of guff for a long period of time for me to get to this point, never fear, in a thousand years you could never incite my ire to this extent. I'm glad you're back, I've missed you. Thanks for strong, to hear that is always a blessing. Hate to admit it, but my tongue is way worse than my pen, but again, only when I'm provoked. I'm incorrigible when it comes to curbing my mouth.


Many thanks to all for sharing your precious moments with me, especially this time around. You've all made me feel so much better. God bless.

All the best, always,
Lisa

Wow...I felt the heat all the way here in Texas, Lisa Loo...good going girl..

Anger, rage, a Lisa I wouldn't want to cross. I love your dark humour (love the title too, forgive me).

You label me talentless
and call my poetry crap

This made me go "Aww how can anyone even say that?", but the come-back comes pretty soon

This one's for you, dear,
(my pen is my best revenge)

Loved it, Lisa, though I'm sorry for the circumstances the poem was written in.
Love and hugs.

Some of the most inventive phrasing is driven by emotional response - anger, love, fear, hate, elation, etc.. The problem that many have when they come to translate that emotion onto the page is that often, by writing it we rationalise it, and by rationalising it we reduce its power, and by reducing its power we reduce its openness, its 'spur of the moment' unconsidered outpouring. Things we think or say in emotional moments often are wrong, illogical and contradictory, so when we repeat them - in this case in the written form - we often clear away those parts. However, those are the parts that really deliver the bite. They're the bits that people can empaphise with, often on a subconscious level.

In parts, this has that bite; it is credible and engaging, because it is fuelled by anger. However, parts read as if they've been sanitised; they've almost been put straight and into order, whereas being straight in order is not the stuff of anger, of emotion.

I'd like to see this rawer, but truer to the moment of anger!!!

"Even my fiction
is more real than you'll ever be."

That's easily my favorite line in a poem filled with some doozies! You have a beautiful mind, dear friend, as sharp and dangerous as any bladed stare your husband might own and his lack of appreciation for your mind speaks of his foolishness and NOT any lack of talent on your part. I'm glad you understand that. As for the whole poem, I can't add much to what's already been said. I don't agree with The Blue Ape, though I certainly understand where they're coming from. But I think the ebb and flow of rawness makes it real...like I person struggling to hold back the worst of their anger so as not to lose a precious piece of themselves. I dig it.