"wrathed" poems
*Vera's quietude was
her highest weapon.
At least she thought
she was living a life.
A stubborn, meak slave
of her suppressed needs.
Sacrificing her dignity,
and denying ignorance;
she drank up wrathed
amaranthine liquid in one
long sip from the exquisite
crystal chalice. Dreaming
about her gentle femininity
to flourish again. For sure
there will rise one special
bright morning for her. She
walked through the effervescent
garden surrounding their vaccation
villa. Love's true reciprocity vaguely
reminisced and echoed within this
little woman's romantic soul. She
became a shadow of her self,
hating the marble empty halls, lonely
pages in vintage volumes at night,
lying crowds, smiling as statues
stare; without emotions, numb
and notably beautiful. People.*
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
I do not know you
Old patriarch of time
Whos gossamer hands turn water
Into my wine
That I uncork with revelation
And drink with great faith
I’m baptized by pleasure
That only you can create
But the blood of your own
Is my liquid of sin
Glass after glass
Through my holy veins, it swims
Lord i’m now by the toilet
The old porcelain throne
And I'm down on my knees
But no prayer is forlorn
So I heave away
Your sacred grapes are wrathed
Deliverance of wine-soaked sadness
Confession at last
Later drunken hymns
Will arise from my bed
I’ll moan out your name
Not my lover’s
Instead
Two hand-crafted thighs
Bound together by grace
Spread open at once
By the devil’s embrace
And the same snake that tempted
Poor Adam and Eve
Slides back in his cave
Slithering with greed.
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
How I wish, Caro
That you'd not have incompletely left
Had showed your desire more than you let
Less empty reassurances
And sadistic impossibilities
We both knew it would never be,
But you didn't even try to fight
For the possibility of a present
Instead you cornered yourself
With thoughts no descent
The greater probability that a future is nonexistent.
It caused such a drift
And I couldn't even hold on
How might I; when friction won't stay any long
You didn't leave completely, Caro.
You never will.
You never stopped gripping my hand.
You didn't,
But somehow did still
When you corroded the forces binding us so much.
That now,
I can't be wrathed at the situations for prying
As even I,
Want me to stop Trying
Oct 1, 2024
Oct 1, 2024 at 9:18 PM UTC