Kitten's Litter

Wish I had more time to give you a more indepth response, but I did get to read over these last 5 or 6 a couple of times! It's always great reading your writing... it unfolds kind of like a diary giving insight and all that. The last three I thought were the best of this batch; there's just something more to them, or maybe it's the mood I'm in that's connecting with those pieces more... whatever it is, I loved em!

 

Some forty odd days
until we expire,
our labels say so,
but abduct me
for now.

Neglect negative
prospects.

In a near tomorrow
we’ll be prone
to forget and
abort.

But brush against
shadow
and
halt stubborn hours.

I’m spastic, so
lean closer inside,
while we’re hooked
and swallowed
in
staccato romance.

I’ll exhale flames,
like a pint-sized dragon.

Buzzed,
and singed from
every afterword glance.

I’ll remember this,
later.

 

I’m paper cut.

My hands
are red and crushed.

You are a spur
of sadistic glee.

Overcoming
me.

I assume agendas,
slips of bribes -
scarce kindness.

You are an illegible
anomaly.

Draw arousal
from
flustering
my defiance.

I’ve lost
our profane bets,
lost poise and
voice

blame
steamed up
optics
and your
chameleon spell.

 

we’re ordinary prisoners,
courtesy of pillow mufflers
speak in intimate tongues,

we’ve been sour grapes,
and raisins and dormant grains.

numbing fire cut our ribs,
acid corroded the flesh,
we’ve been compelled
to accept garbage as
wealth.

so we stuck together,
collaborated and machinated.

seeped through loop holes,
hid in jackets and spoke in code.

see, they’ve tried to decant us,
beat our voice in the dirt,
strangle us bibbed
and spoon-feed us shit

and we swallowed,
some wallowed
or simply succumbed

but still we grew inward,
our roots entwined
on the sly.

we are the fiber, the capillary,
bubble with violent, scarlet fervor.

it's how we love and die.

 

silver on my whiskers,
twitch and anticipate.

curl up in a ball
and wait,
on the doormat or
the windowsill.

shiver in limbo
I countdown
idle minutes
until you arrive
too late.

 

Oh tempting agony,
you’re not the first
nor should you be the last
of bitter torrents to seize me,
startled and immobilized.

A faulty cycle
which perpetuates from
my affinity and inclination
toward self-torching.

But how brilliantly I burn
inside his eyes.

Oh ghostly love,
a pneumatic need and longing.

You stumble in at the most
improper time
to terrorize,
a whirlwind that
trumpets through lace curtains
and congests the lungs.

Oh cunning fiend,
how you lacerate
with a serpentine tongue,
oblivious to any outcome.

And I’m too infantile,
I’m too unkempt
to retaliate, forget
and to undo what’s done.

 

pricked fingertips were pitched from conifers,
and berries’ aftertaste has lingered of the tart

a gyro-sun spun in the sky, gushing
solar waves from a humming top

with timid steps across a golden field,
where once
weathered palms caressed the wheat,
through squinting lines made forth
her trek.

wind feathers tickled child’s cheeks
before fluttering its rabid wings

behind her eyelids stretched an orange field.

 

what a great image!

-weakness- was awesome as well! I'd comment more but brain function malfunctioning due to sickness

 

Bleached muppet,
stout and dramatic,
purrs on a Persian rug.

Tiptoes fingertips up and down
a shimmering thigh.

A lonely spouse
insert a dime
for a wiggle or a comfort nuzzle.

 

It’s already a yesterday, dawned on me too soon.

Incognito affection peeves
and a hiatus makes my heart stop wheeling.

I might have fluffed, might have wronged.

I keep confusing my mortal waffle
with an apex of our divine attachment.

 

Got dust in the corner of eyes,
got scraped knuckles
and yellow-bruised knees,
got a shortage of voltage
and a backlog of lies,
got all the tricks
from your tattered sleeve.

You used my hang-ups
to manipulate responses.
Your presence, my awareness
manifests in chronic discomfort.

But I’ve got to see
past your peacock attire,
got to know the cost
of a mock desire,
I've got to rub you out, out loud.

 

Enjoyed 40 Days and Grandiose. It would appear I've fallen behind again ~pfft~ I have been in an odd mood and have taken too many breaks from this forum lately. I will just have to hurry back to breathe in the beauty of the other flowers in your garden soon.

 

I keep meaning to get over here and comment, but time has been quite limited for me lately; but anyways! I loved the structure of –enough- … it seems to unfold like a song, imo… with a great intro, a nice bridge, and a strong conclusion (were you listening to music and writing, again? ). I loved the imagery in the first stanza very mucho, so that’s my favorite verse in these!

 

Nah wasn't listening to anything for that one.

 

Seen it happen too often,
should get used to this exodus.

It burns new holes in my cloth,
every time feels so different.

I'm sore again, wondering
how did I veer off course.

I'm gonna wear shades inside
to conceal my portal eyes.

Gonna protect immunity
with paper thin walls and doors.

Don't walk in without knocking.
Burn them down first.

 

I've said it before, but again, I love the diary feel this thread has. It seems therapeutic! -abandonment- is great, although I'm not fond of the title, but that's my personal bias against that word, lol

I would change your last stanza, though... give it more punch. Therefore I recommend:

Don't walk in without knocking.
Burn them down first.

 

My titanic want clashes
with my timid can’t.

In theory, desire-impulse has an upper hand.

No way to stop a freight train in its tracks.

Yet, my timid can’t is alert and ready
to dam gushing passion.

Crushed in between this conflict,
behind the scenes of conscious,

I am my own worst casualty.

 

I don’t mean a thing,
yeah, yeah I know,
I don’t mean anything.

Alright.

Although
deep down inside
I wish that I did
to you.

My heart is a joke,
so what,
it’s nothing new.

All pumped full of lead
and I’m swimmin’ with the sharks
in my head.

Serves me right, I say,
for sizzlin’, rollin’ on a skillet,
as if I couldn’t guess
how bad I’d feel it.

Now I’m crispy charcoal,
pretty black-and-blue.

But maybe in the end,
somewhere half way,
between just me and you,

I will learn
I was wrong all along.

 

Backstage, I rehearsed my lines.

But how do you prepare for an impromptu?

Petrified of our encounter,
I played peek-a-boo with dusty curtains.

Last bell. Spotlight.

I enter with my
palpitating, clammy heart.

The scene is overdone
and gaudy.

Feigned substance
and pretend enchantment.

We make horrid actors.

There'll be no applause
at our finale.

 

hi there

this reminds me of being in college....arghhhh

and also in my many years of dance training all the productions
etc...

i love the awareness of feelings in these words
of this poem
lovenpeace from saff.....