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Ivo Petrović Jul 18
Our Step-father
who art a felon
hollowed is Thy name.
Thy Kingdom's done,
Thy will is none,
on Earth, which is Heaven.
Take us this day our daily head
and punish our desires,
as we punish those who desire ahead us.
Let us rot in condemnation
as we quiver of the weevil.
For blind is the wisdom,
that flowers from your story,
for ever and ever.

Again.
Be your own god - the only real one.
Ivo Petrović Jul 16
My father dropped his careless seed where my mother wished she'd bleed.

You created what I breathe when your lungs began to heave.

I forgot what life unfurls when I heard your whirling purr.

I unveiled your place of birth when my gaze derailed from Earth.

In the stream above the hills, dreams the gleam your lifeblood spills.

Counting decades down your braids, I invade your rounded jades with a gaze you've made cascade.

How you drown my sunken tortures with a frown of drunken fortune.

My lies die between your thighs, in the sighs that close my eyes.

The violins of silver inns shiver hymns of our sins.

The privateers on piers of tears cheer our fear of nearing years.

You imprisoned all my seasons with a year of untold reasons.
__________           ____

We were forged where angels gorge to be carved where devils starve.

Why'd you dose your prose morose to the bard who tarred your shards?

From divisions of your lips, I've received incision's kiss.

With ardent hips of fervent current, the errant serpent grips her servant.

All I brought was thought for naught when your rot became outwrought.

From the pond where I abscond, I watched the botching of our bond.

Every breath deployed to drown when you left devoid of frowns.

For the throne of humming bones, I've condoned becoming yours.

I am sworn to mourn and scorn every thorn that had us torn.

I have claimed the maiming blame for games of shame that gave us names.

All my zest, betrayed and rotten, in a chest remains forgotten.

We transcend repentant lows to embrace resplendent woes.

In the pool that holds your tears, drools the fool who stole my years.
__________           _____

The violins of her violence weaved the bindings of my silence.

I forgave her what she lacked with the fervor of my ax.

She used to have me broken hoping till I split her forehead open.

I forgot to leave her soul where her torso's open cold.

Now she blends my lips serene with the hands I've cut off clean.

The refrains of all my poems, now engraved on bullets chrome, in her skull remain alone.

Derelict, her tongue disdains, with my lick on her remains.

I resent the way her scent invents consent to my lament.

My mouth consumes the fumes she tombs to spout the dooms that loom unwombed.

I've divorced the nasal morse forced to course from out her corpse.

Now the tree that held our names roots around her welded grave.

On the hill where we once kissed, she now sleeps beneath the mist.

Even now she laughs at me, with her shafts forever sealed.

Dark and darker, her darkened barker, marks her tomb a layer harder.
__________           ______

My bride rides the tired tide, where our breaths by death divide.

She enjoys the rhymes I ferry from our time to where she's buried.

I have drained all waters spent where her face could not reflect.

I still hide my drying cry where our prides would once collide.

I demand her lifeless hands to once again caress my tan.

I've repieced her fleeting fleece of the fleas that tease my peace.

Like a dog, I found my god, in the fog where she once trod.

I begin where grins of skin create the sins she used to sing.

I've become the barren baron
of a fortress with no forces
leading my stampeding legions
to find their feet in my defeat.
This is not a poem.

It is a diary.

A little story project of mine, in which the parts are separated by the straight lines.

The story is told through individual entries about her in his journal - individual thoughts describing a certain stage of the man's descent into madness.
Ivo Petrović Jul 15
Footsteps crack the timber spines
as you turn your sacred head
begging lights that cease to glow
to absolve you of the dread

you plead the cosmos for salvation
but it was dealt a feeble hand
don't you know the sun is deaf
when it's dark, when I impend

your skin quivers like December
making waltz your August mane
June eyes moisten as you realize
you're my Christmas, my *******

mind's in flight but legs are nailed
to the dirt that gave me birth
shoulders blend in one anoher
at the sense of my unworth

as the dusk forgets to dawn
I claim my morning in your eve
tonguing omens to your core
'twixt the hills that weightless heave

feelers clad of rotting bone
crease your wrap of liquid stars
midnight tears and we are dropped
down the mouth that ever starves

bend the wings you'll never spring
on the winds that summers blew
you're below, my autumn leaf
I am all that's left of you

hunger breaks my crooked jaw
what was buried comes afloat
as the sea you've always been
calms the fires in my throat

tar will steal your holy veins
you will leave my arms forlorn
that's the price a fiend must pay
on the hunt for unicorns

until then I breathe your lungs
as my pupils pulse with felony
you're the dream I'll never have
my damnation, my Persephone.
Ivo Petrović Jul 15
One day I'll be old
and nowhere near as bold
one day you'll be gritty
and nowhere near as pretty

I'll reminisce of my youth
full of ***** and words uncouth
and you'll be there, twenty and one
waiting to show me all that we've done

to sway me with your lips
and kiss me with your hips
to ****** me with your hair
and reduce me with your stare

to call me ****, disgusting and dumb
and close your mouth, at the brush of my thumb
to get *******, every few hours
and let it all go, when the bed is ours

and you'll visit too, from time to time
whenever in need, of a flattering rhyme
to call me all day, for various reasons
all wet or sweat, depends on the season

I'll bye you too soon, but come after dusk
I'll speak without thinking, but do what I must
I'll avoid talking, when the subject's too steep
I'll write you a poem, when you are asleep

and I'll never know, if these words found a home
but they're sure to follow, wherever you roam
they're yours to keep, or throw in the trash
but they were mine to admit, like blood from a ****

if they grow up with you, they'll stay on your face
cheering you onward, til the end of your race
they'll shine in your eyes, for they never age
and applaud every smile, at the front of your stage

no matter who's first, to cross the last line
they'll freeze with fear, of leaving pieces behind
in the sky of the second, a star will be fading
and either will know, that the other is waiting.

— The End —