Formerly Badass Horrible Poetry

This isn't just a poetry blog. Let's be honest, a lot of what I post is poetry but there are more often than not also postings about short stories. I do try to keep this blog separate from my others and post strictly creative work here. Some of it will be better than others, and much of it is in first or second draft stage when posted. These are raw works, and there will be spelling and grammar troubles at times because I use this blog to gauge what works and what doesn't. I use it as a place to get feedback. That's the reason it is "horrible". Because it's not finished-- And why should it be? We all want feedback but most of us are too afraid to put ourselves out there.

Welcome to my word.

Monday, February 24, 2014

Me I think?

Farmington; golden crushed wheat and
moldy pumpkins

I remember the landing
the fuzzy carpet and
abandoned chair
that no echoes sat in
because we stayed on the stairs

Mother is a panda
Slow and friendly and seems refined
When really I'm surprised she's
figured out how sex works... twice.

I remember flipping you off
and the satisfaction  it brought me
my friends laughing gasps.
The look of hurt on your face
the one now reflecting my own guilt.

My body is a marionette of limbs, face
and thoughts
but my mind cannot control my emotions

I remember the taste of blood in
my teeth when I bit my lip
just to distract myself
when you looked away and
walked uncaring past.

My soul is an iron sword
cast with just enough steel
that the rust creeps slowly

I remember death's first doorbell
as they wheeled me into
the ER and a girl lay gazing on a gurny
with no sight to see the small brown stain.

I remember the boy Simms
and how he cried as
the fan above him spun
and some days I wonder
if my knock stuttered his life. 

My father is a fretboard
dependable and hard to break.
You can always replace strings when they do.

My mind an ouroboros circling itself
wanting but never full. 


© 2014 Lex Vex

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