[cannonreload]

WADING TO FORGET



for my brother... I miss you


his life was already perpetually wrecked
the bright side shining it's dying light slyly
blinding a mighty mind to sullied prospects
for hopeless endeavors, he took the prize
for dope-less pupils, seeing the contract bind
his daily grind to find life's sublime prizes ripe
with snide lies hiding disguised, quietly priming
to apply strife and biased blight with lying piety
his bile rises from biting brined, irony tripe
refined by ex-wives whining like 90s Reality Bites
and dying to slice wildly with pricey knives
while hiding their most vile devices inside
like dirty prize fighters too terrified to retire
now alone he faces the horde of beasts
now tones of hatred start to season his speech
and the bones of his skeletons begin to creak
he now knows that sanity's beyond his reach
too young to surrender yet too old to teach
just briefly grieving his leaving brings acidic heat
treacherous, screaming madness begs to eat
his brain like zombie wraiths at a ravenous feast
the pain builds to zenith, the vicious peak
until he breathes, relieved that he still believes
that his brother's at peace
instantly the tortures cease
icy claws retract and release
his mind flows boldly amidst a warming glow
a moment of clarity lets memories flow
letting him go from rose to rose placing his nose
into those that he most knows and loves
smelling the laughter, inhaling the hugs
it salves his soul and heals his heart
from the tragic toll that ripped it apart
knowing he has to go alone and re-start
charting his course in now unknown waters
infested with mines, sharks, pirates and plotters
now he just ignores the false saints and martyrs
and focuses instead on his sons and daughters

[cannonreload]

on my phone it still won't line up properly unless I turn it landscape to read it, lol.... oh well

[S. Michael Simms]

Originally Posted by cannonreload ↗

WADING TO FORGET



for my brother... I miss you


his life was already perpetually wrecked
the bright side shining it's dying light slyly
blinding a mighty mind to sullied prospects
for hopeless endeavors, he took the prize
for dope-less pupils, seeing the contract bind
his daily grind to find life's sublime prizes ripe
with snide lies hiding disguised, quietly priming
to apply strife and biased blight with lying piety
his bile rises from biting brined, irony tripe
refined by ex-wives whining like 90s Reality Bites
and dying to slice wildly with pricey knives
while hiding their most vile devices inside
like dirty prize fighters too terrified to retire
now alone he faces the horde of beasts
now tones of hatred start to season his speech
and the bones of his skeletons begin to creak
he now knows that sanity's beyond his reach
too young to surrender yet too old to teach
just briefly grieving his leaving brings acidic heat
treacherous, screaming madness begs to eat
his brain like zombie wraiths at a ravenous feast
the pain builds to zenith, the vicious peak
until he breathes, relieved that he still believes
that his brother's at peace
instantly the tortures cease
icy claws retract and release
his mind flows boldly amidst a warming glow
a moment of clarity lets memories flow
letting him go from rose to rose placing his nose
into those that he most knows and loves
smelling the laughter, inhaling the hugs
it salves his soul and heals his heart
from the tragic toll that ripped it apart
knowing he has to go alone and re-start
charting his course in now unknown waters
infested with mines, sharks, pirates and plotters
now he just ignores the false saints and martyrs
and focuses instead on his sons and daughters

Reads like slam poetry...or a public service television ad by Common.

Once you got away from the cacophony of assonance it got better.

There are places where the rhyme seems to dictate the content rather than the other way around, but overall a good effort.

It was helped a lot by the speaker's obviously hurting heart and grief-fueled energy. If it's autobiographical, then I'm so sorry for your loss.

Thanks for sharing.

[S. Michael Simms]

My rating system is fucked up again, so give yourself five stars from me if yours isn't.

[Sugar³]

I couldn't read it in my voice. Not uncommon, but I effing hate James Franco, so I had to shut his ass up like four times--and that was before I even found your poem...Ha.
No, it's because of Howl, where he plays Allen Ginsberg--dude can get raped to ignition by Turkeys for all I care, but if he can do anything right it's recite beat poetry, and wear the shit out of some gold teeth in Miami, perform Britney Spears with heavily armed Bikiniteenies sprawling like siamese cat twins on his beachside Grand Piano.
I forget sometimes, the degree of Vocabulosity that you have at your disposal. I always wanted to get my voice hole and hand sticks into something nice like that, maybe some super fancy matching penmanship as well. Little fuckers "NOoooew, we only
like Taekwondo, and discolouring ourselves, and our Yo-Yo strings with Cheezy Dust."
Your poem is sad. Nice though. Like a glass of milk goes well with chocolate though, as does crackin' stupid, stupidly, and without any eye protection, lubricate even the lumpiest of blues--but last I checked all your Humour glands were in good working order, so I'm sure you know this. The poem definitely reminds me of Beat Poetry, also Bill Hickok's last letter to his wife--the crossing of unknown waters, Aesop Rock lyrics as well--that who I was trying to get to introduce the good Franco to those Turkeys. But lastly, and most importantly, I don't even know what a 'Salves' is. It looks like the kind of word that if I try to look up my laptop will just crash into standby mode, so that the screen can roll down like a car window to be handed the definition from inside by white glove as if some heavenly mustard was about to be spread. I'm sure I'll build up the nerve before the Great Sunday Sleepening steam horns sound.

[Sugar³]

But also, if there is one thing that can always cheer me up, other than Ms. Cartman holding up that wicker basket for Eric to spray his shit into, it's this.
But I'm sure you know this as well.

[cannonreload]

Originally Posted by AnalSimms ↗

Reads like slam poetry...or a public service television ad by Common.

Once you got away from the cacophony of assonance it got better.

There are places where the rhyme seems to dictate the content rather than the other way around, but overall a good effort.

It was helped a lot by the speaker's obviously hurting heart and grief-fueled energy. If it's autobiographical, then I'm so sorry for your loss.

Thanks for sharing.

I appreciate your thoughts...

I told myself I wouldn't explain anything, but it seems okay here ... I guess the easiest way to explain the different style and cadence is to explain that one style is my attempt at showing the type of internal dialogue in my mind when I'm about 3 good days into a run on some real good Skate....all black and red and orange strobed flashing fast and slow, but always flashing words and phrases and thoughts and ideas and proofs and theorems that change and sync and crash and mesh and ebb and flow and squash and stretch more than an episode of Animaniacs, lol

but you know how Nature abhors the vacuuming-up of the order for hair-perfection which lasts forever but can't bring Thrumpkins to the mountain which doesn't exist... alas, there can be no more grandstanding slammification...

[cannonreload]

as a verb it just means "soothe"

I love when Clooney uses it in O' Brother when he's introducing the Soggy-Bottom Boys to the radio station manager, lol: "..we sing songs of salvation to salve the soul"....

also get a huge kick out of listening to Tom Hanks' character in "The Ladykillers", lol