Anyway, here it is.
This picture was taken just after the poetry reading that I took part in and the poetess in the picture that I took here, she went up after I did with an impressive poem about vampric romance. I came on with a few peices that were nothing short of brutal. One of them is going to be posted on the page here to give some of the readers of the page an idea how the sessions were. I read two poems that I had wrote both on spot. Both were not titled but one of them I am going to rewrite into something longer -- and that one was titled "Betrayer" then the one that I have below is one of the ones I read in the session, where my freestyle came out of that. There were a lot of readers that night, I felt a little intimidated some but that is because that was the first time I read outside of Illinois but got over that one as I eased into reading "Betrayer."betrayer -- when our minds hear the laughter
principality of end times -- black infinity
among our minds and tormented,
among the listless aeons, ashes lie
morbid entrapment as it remains
mother fucking cowards
all when it is seen in the end
just pain
prayers of the empty of thousand dismissed
faith and loss raped in light
fear and torment forever
our minds -- inside wheels of pain
forever lost -- now and the end
eyes of the eternal molest
now our lies, another victim of God
now the fucking holy mockery
prayer spoken in blaspemy -- my sin
nowhere the bullets of war
of the demise -- fucked in your fate
guns and history -- another man plays god
now birth engulfed by fire
ageless it still, death is what we become
betrayer -- I pull your strings
tormentor -- welcome to enternity
as with our ashes, we're once clay
after demise -- where we're no longer here,,
blasphemor -- crucified upon the crooked cross
as even as it remains in the fires still
even as death may lie with the countless aeons,
even as when death may die,,,,
4 comments:
Oh for fuck's sake! That isn't a poem, that's a regurgitation.
Nicky just loves barfing up the half-digested contents of his pathetic, underpowered brain and calling it 'literature'. He's a mental bulemic.
Actually, that's probably a bad metaphor; most bulemics have the decency to do what they do in private. They certainly don't try to pass it off as art. Christ.
He hates erotica and romance...but was impressed by a poem about vampiric romance. Yet another sign of what a hypocrite he is.
That poem hurt my head so bad, I couldn't finish reading. Oy vey, I think I need a Tylenol now.
Take care, ETT!
Louise xox
And now for some poetry...
Ahem...
One thrust
Two thrust
Three thrust
Four
In the trunk of my car
Is a dead whore!
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