I was assembled in carful manner,
like an artist with a brutal wrist
learning to be gentle at the hand
With his fingers a stroke per touch was liquid fire... and the ambers bled.
In an age of chaste- my uniform and I elaborated together,
right before the architect checked in.
To measure our dogma
do we have the skill of a plank?
Grown enough, he'd engage me at force.
The utensils of my porcine frame had
taken attention- and tention
off from his sore eyes.
Across the alley walls where we wildly grind, contrary
to a man compelled.
And like a beast, he took liberty
in between walls my temple built,
and broke them back down
to a soundly fever.
© Salamasina Talaepa
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC
I was assembled in carful manner,
like an artist with a brutal wrist
learning to be gentle at the hand
With his fingers a stroke per touch was liquid fire... and the ambers bled.
In an age of chaste- my uniform and I elaborated together,
right before the architect checked in.
To measure our dogma
do we have the skill of a plank?
Grown enough, he'd engage me at force.
The utensils of my porcine frame had
taken attention- and tention
off from his sore eyes.
Across the alley walls where we wildly grind, contrary
to a man compelled.
And like a beast, he took liberty
in between walls my temple built,
and broke them back down
to a soundly fever.
© Salamasina Talaepa
#poetry #poeticasassin #poetrybeast #inkbeast #poeticweapon #paperlife #writteninchains
