"saltily" poems
Cumulous pillows
of insomniac depravity
drizzle keen pulp
unto the eye, hair wetting
mattress - springing
metal spasms
upon the spine of those
who dream.
Mellow morning
saltily floats up
from morbid
somnambulations
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
(1)
In a moment
the adrenalin rush
courses through my veins;
a torrent of frustration.
Rational expression gives way to loss of all reason
as vitriol spurts forth from my lips;
a stream of abuse:
I want to goad you
I want to hurt you
I want to abuse you
The foul profanities are carefully aimed
sent hurtling from my mouth
in a barrage of spittle, all semblance of sanity gone,
and the air reeks with rankness from my verbal barrage.
A vein pulses at my temple
and the crescendo of my heartbeat
is a rhythmic chant that drives me on
to ever greater extremes.
And as this onslaught congeals and festers in an instant
inside my head, it forms into a clenched fist
that assumes control of its own existence
to strike out and feel the satisfaction as it makes contact
with your soft flesh and delicate bone.
My froth and spittle is flecked with your blood
but I am removed from the person flailing you,
punishing you,
and I have no control over him.
My eyes, if I could see them reflected in your fearful eyes,
are wide and wild,
my lips are curled back over my teeth,
my mouth opens widely as my screams of rage
are vomited at you,
my gasping breath rasps between rants,
my chest pistoning,
as you lie at my feet bloodied and subdued.
Now as I stand over you panting: an animal subjugating my ****
your eyes look furtively and fearfully into mine,
wide and frightened.
(2)
In a moment my wild triumph flees and such regret washes over me as I kneel, cradling your head in my hands, brushing away the sweat-bonded strands from your face.
I plant a soft kiss on your lips and our tears mingle saltily:
I lick my lips and taste that salt
But it only serves to heighten my guilt.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, and pull you close, letting your tremulous heartbeat calm me.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
She slept not
A dream
Her face
Flowed downhill
And her tears
Rolled upwards
Saltily leaving her too
I couldn't know
The pain she won't forget
But I will be
The love she won't need to
Remember.
Again.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Dylan Thomas went wearily, windily to the sea,
Where dogs ran and tongues wagged saltily,
Sea battered boats sang shanties to the bearded shore,
As the sea legged gulls barked and cried hungrily
The shadowy sun surrendered to a once bitten moon,
And the sand stood still by the windy wet dune
Nov 28, 2020
Nov 28, 2020 at 12:57 AM UTC