Monday, March 4, 2013

Mag#158 An Uneasy Place

photo by TheFoxAndTheRaven



Knuckled red hair
now a dead weight
 her lifeless frame
listlessly and semi-afloat
while her tresses now writhing snakes
riding on top of the water
in undulating rhythms from lapping waves

who'd recall an earlier state of grace
this mop once life's crowning glory
so clammy now
her dignity hung in the air
as she had clung to the rocky outcropping
her destiny always a dirge it seemed
 for the newly dead and dying
not for lack of trying. either
the poor waif had lost track
her once sure-footedness
had slid from beneath her
like locket found on the smooth river rocks
it was beneath her
as she in a dream-like state of death
had plunged repeatedly
in an endless freefall of staccato fear
her heart made her leap
as it would sink her deeper into death
 a dead-weight sinker, she
so soon it would be over before her
as it seemed to just have begun
The Fallen, she
kept her falling and
forever failing, fading fast
the least of which would test of her own veracity
what if they'd flail her?
strike her to her core
or impale her
she of the pale flesh?
would it not be best to rot this flesh
which reeked of dead lake fish?
how'd she keep up with a belief that she's ok
when she is so obviously not
she is dead
and had died a horrible death by her own hand
at the urgings of The Others?
a murder by way of soul death
slow, methodical and labourious
always meet by The Other's steely soul-sucking glances
and whispered words of pure evil?
how she ever came to the place and owed up
reclaimed and became
to fully own herself
in the times of woman's sufferage and male ownership?
that it was them not her
which aused this cursed grief
as a penance for not understanding
other's unrepentent misgivings?
how'd she become The Overcomer
as The Transgressionists heaped insult upon injury upon her?
The Chorus harkened with the usual jabs of verbal torment
still  taunted her still image
determined with ungodly voices
they mocked her escape to pass hell
on the way to Purgatory
as all her sins she confessed were long past forgiven
(as they never were)
she'd never would be able to admit this
her imagined enemies and conspirators
had fully exposed her
yet they too were now expired
yet the need to prove herself worthy of love
to endlessness of time
would  repeat this endless procession;
a flotilla of obscure obsession
Spite's bottomless pit
the hound from hell
poison'd tongues wag for a thousand hags
round the corner of Infinity
thought long gone she, now the earth continues
to mete her conspirators
those premeditated Opus eaters ate meat
 a slow unconsciousness spiral in her sunken world
and weary as sin her soul to travel the endless depths
a featherless bird, a non-weighted entity of
dark despair and reflected light
yet too heavy in spirit to fly free
or ever find flight here
so she slips into something much more comfortable
her burdens to bear and perceived indiscretions
a toxic cocktail of loosed gag-ordered gossip
she chokes back her tears
all these years The Victim
as the endless sea tenderly caresses her bloated carcass
soon to become a Soap Mummy
with the crash of ceasely waves
the elements that exposed her
in her temporal place
deep hollow moans
unholy sounds covet
creaking bones of dead echoes
illustrate her brokenness
play out on her torso laid bare
The Lover; the waves soon
would discard her like a disowned lover
 yet on these solid yet slippery rocks
no man would keep her
her shield's were down
she caved into love
by the buoy, who'd save her?
powerless, penniless and not pretty anymore
her flame of red hair once tamed in a french twist
now Medusa-like it showed the torment of her acquired rage
As he had owned her to the very end
tied her to the inevitable precipice
unchained melody
once their song of songs
a quivering mirage now
left  unmitigated; an open and chilly made torte-like
they claimed her a tart
but she's a delicate flower
a fragile beauty
Ophelia in waiting
 such a  flaming pitiful specter
her pale corpse commands
a death to avenge
strikes the gavel behind time
forlorn and fixated
to this uneasy place
 the apex of the cross
 the space between the worlds
where she became


thanks Tess~!!!




  2. very nice....well done and thanks for sharing all your words

  3. nice....some really moving pieces within your narrative....i rather like...

    her dignity hung in the air
    as she had clung to the rocky outcropping
    her destiny always a dirge it seemed


    they claimed her a tart
    but she's a delicate flower
    a fragile beauty
    Ophelia in waiting
    such a flaming pitiful specter

    was good to see you today...its been a while...smiles...

  4. my heart and mind are achingly sorry to have missed this beauty.
    i'm such a melancholy romantic and your poem hit my sweet spot.

    perfectly written, you are quite talented.

    i've read her three times already i am so obsessed with your poem.