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Vatic

Submitted by zebra on Tue, 2019-02-19 04:35

pebbles
over the eyes
beautiful vacancies
and folded hands

our true home
land of inanimate flesh
gray skin
in sunken grave beds
and operas
theater of mice
while tumbled hair still grows

we are already dead
waiting for the burning barge necropolis; to
shuttle seas raven
vanishing point

age; a slow erasure
the mind still wreathed into the torrents of life
morals transmute into desires lost
every inhalation
a going going gone

the only savage kisses;
crypt tongues slow unwinding

with the allusions of a destiny
forgotten
by niggling chatter
and the price of a chicken while
bathing in a tide pool abyss
of inked black teas
i hold fast
losing steps
a worn animal, waiting
till sanctuary comes

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Geezer

Wed, 2019-02-20 16:25

Geezer's picture
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I get to have another look at this side of you. You lose nothing in the transition from extreme and graphic sexual content to the gloom of a drudgered life. [I made that word up; drudgered], but I think you can figure out how I came up with that word. Yes, we all come to the concluson, that we will not last forever and think often of what was; while we wait for the sanctuary of forgetfulness. As per usual, you thread words with seemingly no connection, into lines that cannot be forgotten. [I will of course forget as soon as I leave this]. "pebbles
over the eyes
beautiful vacancies
and folded hands"

I wonder.... Could you, would you; write something of unbridled joy?
I certain that it would be a very interesting work. ~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

zebra

Thu, 2019-02-21 12:07

zebra's picture

First thank you for your kind comment :)

I had a very good friend actually die and then was later revived I asked about his death experience
His response was that life is overrated

author comment

Eumolpus

Wed, 2019-02-20 17:58

Eumolpus's picture

about death. You do have the mind of an abstract painter, I suppose you paint as you write, right?
You use a very full pallet and attack the canvas in different sections, stepping like a tiger reader to plunge back.
The poem is again a beat rant. Always in fashion.
You have a comma and two semi colon in the work...i would punctuate or not punctuate, but not some punctuation. When I see that doesn't feel right. Why not punctuate? add a few exclamation points, it will raise your voice in the poem!

...in sunken grave beds
and operas,
theater of mice,
while tumbled hair still grows !

Nice poem!!
Mark!

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

zebra

Thu, 2019-02-21 12:10

zebra's picture

Im glad you like the poem and yes I'm a half ass punctuator! I need to do better!! Thank you for your ever present support. Your vital to this site my friend!!!!!!!!!

author comment
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