peterphreak

(754) Nameless
8r6r8r6 7r6r8r6 8r6r7r6 8r6r8r6


My Name bifurcated by tongue
in serpentine cursive
the Spirit misspelled as "splintered"
to exile my missive

And now words of angels dyed
and now cursed by naming
and every time I peter out
I reply with missing

And i do still receive the son
upon suburban gloam
It has prodigious flow
had i ilk to ink home

And when at work and play is damned
I regret my forgets
But better than beatified name
slithering in my knots

To scribble her hame, I'm ashamed
How to counterfeit ghosts?
On whom to lay identity
Or emboss this ego?

Though I treason reason, she sighs
thus the lesson of lines
For wan, I have signature's signs
without the wanton lie

Baron

Some great word play and symbolism in this one. The wording is a little archaic but perhaps that befits the theme. I enjoyed the read.

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CMM_Kaleido

I enjoyed this piece. The speaker has an honest voice, seems to be longing/craving for something/someone just out of reach.

peterphreak

Dear Baron,
Thanks for your read. Sorry about my sorry's; i've got to turn down my sensitive hunch meter, but it doesn't seem to go any lower than eleven. I never realized the voice in my head was arcane, but then i've been having tea with a dead grandmother seven scores old. Thanks.

Dear CMM-K
Thanks also. Was a bit flustered when you named me as "honest", when my words feel so distant and fake. But, then what fun is there if one is an honest almost poet, better for me to have faith in the flake. So, i'll keep faking it holding onto the encouragement of others. Arigato.

Baron

Maybe I'm just an almost critic.

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