Perversion

I've come so far and not far enough.
I'm no longer sure that it's obsession,
Madness or just that life's rough.
But whatever it was led to my cession.
Nothing's the same since this perversion
Of reality into something more sinister.
It was an indisputable act of subversion,
Since I met the mutinous minister.
I did all I could to try to tame him,
And all I did was tame myself.
Blindly, but fiercely, I planned a coup,
And somehow successfully asserted myself.
The unshakeable weight of my preoccupation
Left me bereft, befuddled and invisible.
I won't get burnt after my reincarnation.
But I can't live like this, an individual divisible.



Can this poem be saved?  It's chunked together from bits and pieces from different nights.  I am very reluctant to release this one because it's stumbling, in my opinion.  But here we are.  I'm a whore for my views stats going up, and they go up when I release things, whether they're good or tasteless. (Admittedly, there are far more views when a poem is an actual success).

Probably need a therapist, but Blogger is the only therapist I want to go to, since at least it's productive.

Lonely poet poets alone.

Letters to an Ex-Lover Anthology: Unaccompanied

Last night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The fan sent me sailing in the breeze,
And then the music sent me reeling.
It was the soundtrack you gave me, love's reprise.
Suddenly I couldn't breathe, again I was vulnerable,
A feeling and state I deeply despise.
So I decided that it finally ends tonight.
I promised I'd kill you next time I saw you,
With the weapon kindness, rather than a fight.
Forgiveness wasn't enough, maybe this will be.
So here I lie, with the breeze on my face,
And I'm forgetting all the things you did to me.



How my poetry often starts out (as disjointed, ugly, stupid-sounding notes):
"I was listening to that cd he gave me when we first met."  "Used to be soundtrack of our love."  "I feel vulnerable again and I can't breathe."  "So tonight I'm going to lie down and forget all the things he did to me."  "Kill them all with kindness."

Fiona Apple has been inspiring me.  "Remember when I was so sick and you didn't believe me?  Then you got sick too, and guess who took care of you.  You hated that didn't you?  Didn't you?" from her song Regret.

Sometimes, I feel like I use rhymes as a crutch, because they're so easy to work with.  But there's a romantic element that plays into this.  I want to transform the simple rhyme into something complex and beautiful.  Maybe one day I'll be satisfied that I've accomplished that, but not yet.  Never yet.  Rhymes do so delight me.  I suppose Shel Silverstein was more whimsical with his, but I like to think that maybe we shared a similar fascination.

Also, it's been a very long time since I added to this anthology.  I know it's just personal, but this anthology holds some of my favorite pieces I've ever written.  The first title for this poem was Otolaryngological Fatalities. But it doesn't start with U like the theme of the anthology.  So I changed it, for now...

One last thing, is this the end of the anthology??

A Content Singularity

It's a rare night that I feel the loneliness,
But it sinks in deeper with each sip of wine.
I fear it's a losing battle against an illness.
It's only a matter of time before I must resign.