Garden Rape (a creative rant)

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Poem Commentary

Freud would've given me a house-call if he read this.

Garden Rape (a creative rant)

Can I reach catharsis?
My call for release, through these verses
which travel as slow as snails, dying
on hot granite, breaking on sharp rocks
will not help. But I will try anyways.
I know that this is not effort. It is hopelessness
served in black and white. Bon appetite.

I lie. I lie and lay and lay my life
away as a nymph in the summer air, quick lived,
diaphanous jewel in the silky harlequin earth
Bright and lurid, inflamed with tacit rage
I am a raided heartbeat in the wind,
a beaten path, with a pebbled pallor, at my feet
roots overdone, fornicated in green juice, and I sit here
with the ladybugs in the virgin tulips. 
They cringe around me. I am marred, tainted.
Of this Time cannot mend. My honey drips.

What are you?

I spy a sliver of gratitude,
a sexless female dripping with dew speckled 
to death with dainty spots. You hide and pry
in this dewy eye, crawling over my nostalgia, and I,
I wish you would go
You are the tiny tumor in my cancerous sky.
You are the thing to which I constantly ask "why?" Why do you stay?
You are the shame that has laid me out to dry.
penetrating the skin of my dreams
with your mute breath
and your recumbent pose
atop these lips, these petals of rose
So why, why do you sit there and pose?

Who are you?
 
Your innocence perturbs me.
Am I envious? Am I your reflection?
Two beaded eyes; buttons on a red cloth,
You are attracted by my
female scent, a musky tusk, a tiny husk
a voiceless, tongue-less head, a leathery shell,
rotund with lust. You crawl quasi human,
quasi life, a smooth ball of it scurrying
o’er a sea of pink ripples. quickly. quickly. over my face
 
I see you ascend me,
with your bulbous eyes, flirting with wings that hum,
which from doldrums in Hell purrs, purrs the itch my mind,
the crackling fire which wrecked this paltry
soul melts away, forever in debt, infuriated,
darkened and putrifying in muck

I dare not twitch, nor clench my veins.
I will simply waver, and red I
blush as you murmur in my coiled ear.
It is good, this delirium has gelled as fresh blood
gorged with panacea worms
A pungent river inundates my soles,
a fermented face buried and
caked with white lies, thick lines
white skies in white winter. I am so cold in December!
weather white in all white.
whiter inside white stars
white ignorance on holy Mars
the white that is null and void that
tonight breeds a tense opulence of death
I am a heart with punitive layers. An onion. 
Pure vindication I strive to free myself from this malediction.
the eternal catalyst to this mortifying constriction!
I am condemned and I limply wait and suffer. stuck in grains.
in the tall grass, hidden, a neon rash on display

Liquid, dribbling down, smearing your gel,
your sticky hell, from those hard teeth, a gut of goo and green.
On my blushing, virgin petals you bleed. sap. You do not care.
You are done in a cinch.
You then flit off in the torrent wind
leaving me to rot, miserable and bare, wild haired
with a large fleshy tear. You ate me like a pear.
 I hate you. You are a pestilence
You sank your crooked jaws into these pale green hips
You sank in deep and I waned. The razor sun cut me in half.
I was ensnared. My stem snapped. A happy mind blew into the dust.
Lost...lost for good all at once. The heat hung low.
 I sat still. very still.

I sank into the brown dirt
I lay. Buzzed apart. Buzzed as a saw.
Buzzed high up like a tree, leaves shivering. looking down
Two twigs titillated. Tall tangerines burst to bits.
Nonplussed. You bit me apart
with your pinching mouth, tendril by tendril.
The saliva hung on the fleshy field. You were a means. I was an end.
I thrashed about. A fallen feature in five flutters
Annihilated.
Vulnerable. Papery flesh ripping, falling to the gutters.
 
 
Teeth sinking into pores
Stop. Stop sign red. A droplet of rain hit, sizzled the green cantene
I was thoroughly dead. My body brittled.
A swarm of you. A swarm of hissing locusts
in the panting of death. Snap!
Tore me apart. Tore me to shreds. I hate you.
I bled not red but green. Solemn and supine I bent.
Orifices succumbed that pleased your gardener's touch.
Your green thumb knew. It used a hoe.
Vines wrapped around me like a snake, and woe, in
the sweet smell of springtime
the dead night baked my coffin with a marzipan moon.
But I rose again. This time I was young.
 
The sun could not rise in time to save me.
It's light fled me. I was shelled.
I was gutted like a goose. Shot full of holes.
You should have hung me with a noose
instead of plucking me, frail and loose.
Of this I would have recommended
had I a voice to speak. I am mute. A green fairy.
 
Intertwining of parts. The lascivious art of frothing
and flying towards an orange sky.
I am endowed with enmity. A ragged entity
On wings. Bugs buzzing.  Grass shuffling. Wind howling. Trees erect. 
Nature cannot help. She has gotten me wet. Her rains are warm.
 
I see you. I see you well. Cut me then, crawl into me
Bite into this thick flesh, like an overripe apple, and you will see
what I see. I see a dot of you. A sweet dot of life.
A doleful pettiness that lies
in my grave like an empty hole.
A sack of potatoes would grow
around me easier, plain and sullen. Unlike weeds.
They would roll about me. They would not bite or strangle.
 
You buzz in my ear. I wipe a tear.
I sit in the hot grass
melting glass and spit
a puddle of burboun on my neck
the kind that lasts and lasts
on a dewy grin, on a glutton's bottle
a tonic fully throttled. I sit and see
but I do not see anymore.
It's lonely out in space...sick black space.
I am a blank existence. I am a mute.
 
You wonder how angry I am. But your wings do not peel
The ambience is livid. I am heavy. I am torn.
With joints elegant, eyes like
two eclipses, earless like seashells,
a red lipped mouth like a primrose
a face as a plate of dead skin, flipping in wind.
openly bleeds, a pared grape with its innards exposed
My blossom, my lithe body of vibrancy
is bathed in the blood of your evil. I drank it up. You chewed.
 
 
Your hardness has not left me
This was your intention. Your mean grasp.
I lay my soul here, a cold replica of
the object that you are.
A length. A knife. Wedged inside moist dirt. around me.
goring and gouging fertile juices from my
trembling leaves. They brighten as you walk away.

How dare you. My face crumbled in your palm.
How dare you squelch my red breath,
turning it bitter green, like an insect
with your swivelling jaws.
 
How dare you pluck me
from my happy garden
I am now but a dumb, soft plant
who, in your exotic fantasy
eerily watches
from a dream window
breathless, like a dead
china doll

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warsaw commented on Garden Rape (a creative rant)

08-29-2009

I must say "QUALIN" says it all it's way too long more like a novel than anything but thank you for sharing sincerely WARSAW

Qualin commented on Garden Rape (a creative rant)

07-01-2009

it's 3 in the morning I will need a complete day to read anymore but imma-gonna..good very good

Qualin commented on Garden Rape (a creative rant)

07-01-2009

...........................................DEEP.................................................. ...........................................DEEP.................................................. ....................................AND DEEPER........................................... ..........................................QUALIN................................................ MUST SAY stunned ,delightfully confused, I like this feeling..not haaaaaaving an answer....studdering...i like it Qualin

Gabriel85 commented on Garden Rape (a creative rant)

06-29-2009

I'm in awe of how amazing your poems are, I can't really describe what I want to say about them, because it feels like an insult to add my thoughts on something that stands on its own merits with such force. Incredible stuff.

Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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crazygirl77’s Poems (48)

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