He is the rain on a cold grey day—
the arthritis that ravages my bones
and when he breathes, it’s a Nor’easter wind—
I’m blown apart; shattered;
scattered; kicked about like autumn leaves,
dead
Unwritten letters from our post-mortem breathe life into her apparition
Like the weather; she returns to season fresh wounds
Blood pressure tantamount to a volcanic mountain; she hikes my temperature
Fuego, fuego! I give him fever; raze his green earth
while he does freeze mine
I exhale phantoms in billowing bursts
and weep for the fugitive memories
Her frosted ribcage collides with the arson in my heart; two souls, cremated
We paint every town red;
Ours is a match that burns all bridges
We’re on a road to revive the great depression
Ghouls are we without restitution—
to Hell with intuition
Gods warring are we without resolution—
fuck the institution
I suck on his brimstone,
a brimful of grim, and he grins with Cheshire teeth
tucked tightly in his head
With us there’s no cease fire; no coalition
Be it life or death, our ashes will always blow in the same direction
You can read Part 1 here: Brimful of Grim Part 1.
Kindra M. Austin can be read here: poems and paragraphs.]
&
A. G. Diedericks can be found passed out in a dark alley somewhere behind Morality Park
Wow! Very powerful! You write well together.
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Thanks so much, Walt.
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From the start, my breath was lost. The imagery of this piece twists into my eyes and I feel a sense of being unable to break free, not wanting too. It feels like elation in a shared despair, a beautiful darkness that has teeth. The language is exquisite, the rhythm fluid but weighted. Absolutely Gorgeous!
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Thank you for such a beautiful and generous comment, Susan. This was an incredible experience back when it was written, it also happens to be my final pre-morality park publication that i’ve posted on here. I’m excited to see what the future holds.
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Me too! Incredibly!
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I loved the pacing of this one. The rhythm flower slower and smoother in the beginning. Starting with “Fuego, fuego! “, however, the pace burned like the fire you mention.
Wonderful!
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Thanks so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Looking forward to your thursday post.
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A dangerous liaison indeed.
But then, with the stranger
of poetic danger
is where words intrude to
infuse, exude, and exceed.
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Love this comment. Thank you very much, David.
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Only lovers left alive.
You gave me fever, guys. Completely engrossing from beginning to end.
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Thank you kindly for the warm compliment, Bojana.
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To think you think of yourself primarily as a director, then a poet…A.G. you’re the epitome of good poetry. You should write more.
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This compliment is bordering on Stockholm Syndrome but i’ll accept it nonetheless. Many thanks for your magnanimity 🙂
I will try my best.
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Lol. This really made me laugh. I’m not kind, A.G., just realistic. Deal with it! The sooner, the better. There will be more compliments to come (provided you give us more such gems). If not, the deal’s off.
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My favourite kind of bribes. Lol.
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Whatever it takes.
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A powerful piece in which two souls are inseperable ( whether they belong to two people or reside within one being is a tantalising question) and one cannot exist without the other. Perhaps it truly is better to burn bright and burn out rather than to simmer slowly. A fine collaboration.
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Thank you for this in-depth comment, Chris. You ask the right questions. I truly appreciate it.
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Reading this is like the slow burn of a tattooist’s needle. You can feel the art being born. Stunning!
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Love that it evoked such a visceral response! Thank you, my friend. 🙂
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