I spit my teeth out
Into the dish
Red pulsing
A thousand lost pennies
A thousand lost dreams
Each swirl of spit
And red
A message
Count up the lines
Count down the time
It is coming
It is coming
The end
I nod on the seat
Powder tucked in the slats
Is it the wicker or my brain cells
That are tired
Fuzzy
All confused
Everybody
Lies
And
Cheats
The cigarette paper
Dressings
Wrapped up in truth
We are all spitting
Coughing
Up
Red
Blood
Time
Lost
We are coming
We are coming
To an end
So painfully slow
A mere slap
Over and over
Not a thunderous applause
We are lost
In the spit bowl
In the piss stained sofas
Blood stained floors
The ants in the kitchen
Pulsing
Like our
Teeth
Lost
Red
Spat up
Into the soupy dream
Of hell.
This is such a pain-filled poem that I looked askance at my dentist husband, but he never hurt anyone. You write extraordinarily vivid poetry.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry Vivinfrance! Certainly not a dig at dentists..i have always found dentists professional and charming! It's the metaphorical teeth pullers that aren't so great..in dreams losing teeth is also symbolic of losing wealth..but then i'm sure you knew that!
DeleteI hope the count down is the one to freedom. This is a dark tortuous piece, painful for both the writer and the reader. That "mere slap" hurt a lot but not the physical hurt but the mental one of not being able to get away. You have a remarkable gift in the use of words Jae.
ReplyDeleteThank you so OldEgg..i hope i can keep my words wherever i end up..maybe they will change into kind caresses..who knows what another 6 months of incarceration does to one's linguistic powers..watch this space I guess!
DeleteOh Wow! Another zinger. Use of red amazing. There are no words to respond to such a piece. You have described hell...I'm sure if one didn't want to go there before, after reading your piece, he wouldn't want to for sure! hugs
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ReplyDeleteno..i wouldn't wish anyone to be here..i would like a little bell like Beau..to ring and say please let me home..thank you Annell x
DeleteLast week's words seemed to find hope, this week's words not just "a mere slap" but a hard slap to wake one up to the pain. But could "To an end
ReplyDeleteSo painfully slow " lead to a brighter beginning? I hope so!
Let us hope..thank you Robyn..
DeleteWe are lost, in the spit bowl, in the piss stained sofas, blood stained floors, the ants in the kitchen...very powerful images and truthful.
ReplyDeleteThank yo very much..u Sabra
DeleteStrong images and truthful. Especially describing were we are lost.
ReplyDeleteyo..meaning..you ;)
DeleteYou describe hell well.
ReplyDeleteVivid.
Tigerbrite
Thank you Tigerbrite..
DeleteStrong messages and powerful lines in your own unique style!! Your admonishing against the evils of such practices is very clear!!
ReplyDeleteIs it that obvious! Thank you Nanka ;)
DeleteI wish you home. Maybe we just have to click our heels together three times, and it will be so....it was true for Dorothy in her red shoes. And we know you have red shoes for sure!
ReplyDeleteI am spinning..but not like Dorothy unfortunately and my red shoes need dusting off..thank you Annell.. x
DeleteMay the lost be found soon! I see hope on the horizon.
ReplyDeleteThank you Granny Smith..
DeleteWell, Jae, I've been to Hell a few times and this about maps it out, every corner. So much red in this one, I wish I could swim the ocean and scoop you up for a cuppa. This was disturbingly vivid and a work of art. Hats off to you, hon. Amy
ReplyDeleteThank you Amy..i was a bit tired first time i read your comment and thought it read 'this is a work of ants'..and chuckled quietly (am easily amused these days)thanks for the virtual scoop..
DeleteThis is such a bleak poem. We all have our moments when it all looks hopeless, but dark is always followed by light. Sometimes I wonder if words are our consolation prize for those darkest moments, since it seems harder to grab onto them when things are going well.
ReplyDeleteYes..i feel that Ann..although it would be great to have a head full of sunshine for a few days a week i wouldn't trade it for a head full of words..however bleak..
DeleteSharp description and depiction. Any trade for words is a good trade. ;)
ReplyDeleteYes indeed..thank you Walt..
DeleteHoly cow! What an image you have created there. Well done, Jae Rose.
ReplyDeletePamela
Thank you very much Pamela..
DeleteYour despair grows. Each poem feels more fain-filled and self-annihilating. I hope this is not so.
ReplyDeleteThank you Kim..the first - yes definitely - the second not so - which accounts for the first (if that makes sense).
DeleteYour pain here is intense, Jae. This poem made use of all senses and really DID capture hell. I do wish you that sunshine you mentioned a a few responses earlier....
ReplyDeleteThank you so Mary..sorry i haven't paid you a visit in a while also.. hugs x
DeleteWow. as always. I love the way you use sounds and rhythms to add to the picture. I had two favourite phrases which I just love; 'Count up the lines/Count down the time' and 'Powder tucked in the slats'. Not sure why I love the second one, I just like it.
ReplyDeleteSometimes there are no reasons..that is good! Thank you Kathy..
DeleteIt does seem that everyone lies and cheats these days. I am sick of it. I love your writing. It's excellent, as always!
ReplyDelete