February 18, 2011

Metrophobia

Guided lines of schemes carefully
stifle worried words of prose
singing from my past
these poems laugh
 at tortured childhoods
when finally freed at last
only to be followed,
      impaled and
bound by restricting arms of imagery
assailing my mask with bitter spittle
hatred spat through enjambmented lines
concrete, abstract, you name it - he used it
a sick twisted poet
couplets and quatrains woven with fists
punching the syllabals
into my tattered flesh
corroded from acid ballads darkness
falls ever so gently
like rusted sonnets barbed wired around scarred
and oozing hearts bleeding each letter
of your haikus
digits pinching the tip of my tounge
the dripping crimson leaking iambic pentameter
       the unstressed, stressed, unstressed
ripping my heart-strung violin .

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Stunning poetry, what a writer you are. x