I really like your interpretation. Thanks for the comment.
Poetry / Midnight in Purgatory
I roamed the silent streets of 9 to 5
with the shit-taking night shifters,
word swallowers, and drifters.
fought pigeons off
for each lump of bread
that fell on the floor.
sat next to a pile of horse shit,
New-York-city-cops-should-not-ride-horses-if-they-can’t-pick-it-up
horse shit that said
“everything speaks, if you let it.”
but now
I am a bloody chicken embryo
between four egg-static hospital walls.
this must be purgatory,
this deconstruction of the flesh,
my flesh eating fungus grows
and is nurtured by my frantic scratching.
parasites rise out of dark corners
rowing through dense air from wall to wall,
ignoring the immobile creatures beneath them.
they can’t hear the midnight moans
the desperate screams
of a girl who has seen
her leg sliced like salami
and will be sliced again, tomorrow.
here,
you don’t die with your dying dress on.
no lights, no electricity to cool you
when heat crawls in the dark
and so a dying grandmother bares her breasts
to a succulent reaper.
I can barely see his hollow eyes blinking,
he’s dancing his jester dance,
not a chance for last words
but words only serve as punch lines
here.
there’s a fly carrying homicidal voices
on it’s wings
fugitive voices that pushed
a 20 year old girl
from her third floor apartment.
these voices came out of her
when there was no one to talk to
when her cotton candy blood
cried on the sidewalk for rain
louder than the blood of Cain
but no one listened.
and here in purgatory
they wait
somewhere behind these white walls
I feel gray dots running, laughing
like children at a funeral
and unite into one big slab of gray
that runs towards me like an angry hippo,
the same hippo that chased me through sewers
and dark alleyways in my youth.
I gave birth to it by stabbing
the white canvas time and time again
with a felt tip pen.
but the gray came later,
I placed it there with my bare hands,
just kept piling it on till it breathed on its own.
it was supposed to be a self portrait
of my body drowning among water lilies.
I miss mother Mary’s milky skin
tonight
but still, I won’t kneel
like my aunt made me
every time I broke a plate
or forgot the groceries or…
I spent half of my childhood
kneeling
and now
I can barely stand
and whisper
something like a prayer
to whoever holds the pain
killers.
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momsgirl2 reviewed Version 1 -
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The first part of this work really speaks out for the homeless , drug and alcoholics out there on the streets of every town around this world..It is writen well. Why the change at the end to your self,,This is more like two works or ideas you have tried to splice together, I think it would run better if just the first bit about the down and out on the streets was left to run to the end..you have really expressed them and I could feel their pain and lost feeling.From “somewhere behind these walls” it feels like a whole new thought and poem are emerging.I would separate the two and add to both..You are a good writer.
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babyloves2write reviewed Version 1 -
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I was completely drawn into this poem by it’s title.
Your ability to create such a clear canvas for me to feel, see, taste and fear each emotion you describe is vivid.
Although the poem is quite deep and intense I also found a slice of slapstick humour ( my eyes anyhow) in the wonderful non stop way you describe the policemen on horses and not cleaning up after thier own animals.
There wasn’t one second where I felt as if I was falling out of your poem.
You held my full attention, caught my breath as well, with full emotion and colours all the way through.
Wonderful poem.
Deep, fearce, vivid and constructed beautifully.
mertramp reviewed Version 1 -
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I can’t say what it is I like about it. Maybe because it’s dark and modern and abstract. It shines like a city at night. It reminds me of a poem Edward Norton’s character would have written in the movie Fight Club. This piece is oppresive and paranoid like an insomniac’s dream.
Durian reviewed Version 1 -
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Very original use of language. I don’t know if the scene you set is real or metaphorical. I don’t have to to slog through the gritty emotions. The ending was well constructed and sarcastic in the face of religion.
EvnSuicideAgrees reviewed Version 1 -
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Confusing but I really liked it alot! Very interesting stuff, I think the idea is to Confuse us a bit, but you keep me wanting to read this until the very last word. I also like how it was a very odd set up with your paragraph, but it really fit this poem and i simply just thought it was an awsome piece!!
K_J_White reviewed Version 1 -
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I have to say I really liked this poem. The imagery of a hollow-eyed reaper dancing his ‘jester dance’ was intense, and jumped out at me. You made some very clever use of words.
Ladycamigwen reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow… I really liked this. Perhaps it’s something inside of me that can follow it to the deeper and darker places where this poem leads the reader, but this is something worthy of even Poe. It’s graphic, detailed, and I can see the in-depth painting portrayed through your words. I can’t say how much I liked this poem. The opening wasn’t as clear to me, but within the next stanza I was following it, and in hindsight, I can see where we were being led from the beginning. I’m just not sure about that beginning stanza… it doesn’t sit well in my mind, but I love this poem still. Good job!
Floridagal reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a dark poem and I enjoyed reading it. I felt sympathetic and I could almost empathize with the writer.
Inopre reviewed Version 1 -
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Very touching story about a homeless girl in the hospital. At least, that’s how I read it. Written very tentatively, though I think it’s a very very good work nonetheless.
I love the end where the person who can relieve your pain is seen as God.
poet_earth reviewed Version 1 -
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wow … very moving, i can feel the pain in the words. Very descriptive, great analogies
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