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Sludge Factory

I don't normally post my stuff for other people to read because I feel vulnerable even when its something I write that has absolutely no meaning attached to it. For some reason it still makes me uncomfortable; perhaps its the fact that I believe my "poetry" might not fit the standardized acceptance for most poems.

Oh well, I'll post this for a start.


Steel Butterfly
Won’t you fly
And cut away this stain
Razor Sharp your wings
They slice away the dreams
Of millions and millions [as they lay] asleep

Stained is my life
A picture imperfect
False poet stringing words
The painter cannot convert…
This picture ugly as your heart

Electrum seep your poison
Into the hearts of men

Blackened and Decaying
The taste ferments in my mouth

Steel Butterfly
Won’t you stop and rest on my frond
Of Bitterness and hate
Dine on my nectar of solitude
and fly away to mesmerize another innocent

Steel Butterfly
Won’t you lead me on my way to the guillotine
Help me rest my neck
On the executioner’s block

Sharpen the blades
Take it away

Ms. Haiku

When I read the second "stain" word I started to think of stained glass windows particularly with steel in the poem. It almost feels like a look in time when gothic architecture was being built-mid 12th century to 1530, and the religious norms at the time. I believe the inquisition was already in full swing. Guillotines were probably being used during that time period.

EvilToasterElf

It reads more like song lyrics to me, but that doesn't mean it isn't good

Sludge Factory

Eviltoasterelf, I'm glad you said that because most of the time I write this stuff as if they were more lyrical than poem like.

I'm glad to see that it is creating that type of imagery for you Biliobella. I've always been fascinated with the architecture of that time period.

The Indifferent One, I will agree that it does seem a bit choppy. I still haven't fleshed it out completely, I just haven't been inspired to finish it yet so here's another instead :P

Gone away
In the house of serenity
I see you lay and remember me
Take me away from the tree
Your heart grows in the weeds
Why do I even believe
I'm left empty and bleeding free

Absorbing the white wind
Falling into its grasp
Swept away and consumed
I see you lay and tremble beneath

I float on

In the amber colored dream
A silhoutte flashes across the screen
The moss covered tree bleeds
Time to pass on