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Iowa State Penitentiary. (part X)

chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
edited July 2010 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
Iowa State Penitentiary. (part X)

Blades run through
granting access to flowing red oceans
ripping flesh bursting open.

Wide
the gash holds narrow eyed demons
peeping out from under
torn meat.

When their eyes roll back
sharp steel
forces
its way.

The cell door slams home.

Each and every hole
bears violent
punctures.

Similar to no ending
is cruelty
unto weakness.
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • Released1980Released1980 Posts: 1,790
    yeah.... me too. :?
    "It's so nice to hear that in other parts of the world, the stress- borne from envy- that one finds for themselves is the animosity they develop towards a person selling a box of records. How fortunate!" ~ Thirty Bills Unpaid

    MLMF NYC
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    Iowa State Penitentiary (Friday, July 02, 2093)

    Child predator
    blood gurgling foam
    from skull, throat-chest holes down
    a red sea spills open and over
    a cinnamon roll in waves of satin like satan
    so smooth and crude

    In your vacant eyes
    an ocean is draining
    no more air

    Lightless
    always has been your mark
    in and around you

    Now you lie bleeding
    seas as veins drying up
    and throbbing
    for tidal waves existing

    The darkness
    overcame your shadow of evil
    and took you home

    No more
    now an unmarked tomb
    colder than emptiness
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."
    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    Iowa State Penitentiary. (Friday, July 02, 2093) (part II)

    Nice kitchen
    where knives glow close
    like evil eyes in the cafeteria made for hell bound hounds
    and rabid beasts

    Each bench press
    is the keeper of strength
    behind a heavy fiery lance

    Some days
    like Christmas
    the gray is more gloom
    than sadness can bear to own
    but must carry it in air that is so thick
    breathing is solid depression
    and madness

    Here stone feels like eternity
    and steel has a colder temperature
    than free wind and prairie

    It is all locked in a dream
    almost inescapable
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."
    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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