Posts tagged ‘free verse’
Felled Before a Whisper
You say to yourself,
“Thereupon the running river a tree has fallen and made no sound; because they who would hear it were absent when it gave up its rings
for something beneath its worth.”
A whole world of deserts could blame you for naught else but the silence of your wish.
FELLED BEFORE A WHISPER © 2013 BY SAHM ATAINE KING. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Fallen Tree by Bohemianism
Pimps and Whores
There aren’t any stars,
but heavy footsteps in heaven,
angry rain falling from the mouth
of a silver dragon, determined to burn
your flesh clean while you,
tired of donning work and dust
to cover your scars and frailties
and sins, run your fingers through
your temperamental hair over and over
just to feel as if you really are
making a difference by not letting
Delilah part from you a single strand
and the last of your strength.
Laugh, cry, and laugh some more;
life is the pimp,
and you are the whore.
He was assured, once,
that, in fact, tomorrow dies
the very next day.
Luckily, my friend,
the days are promiscuous
and bastards are born.
TO EVERY POET ON TUMBLR THAT SEES THIS… We Drink Because We’re Poets
First, congratulations, and you’re welcome. You are in the presence of a god. Now that I’ve gotten that wholly unnecessary show of hubris out of the way, on to my real business.
I don’t pay much attention to any of you on tumblr. Why? Fact is, I hate tumblr. I find tumblr to be a site corrupted by too juvenile mindsets, any number of reasonless assholes, and too many cliques to count. Even so, those of you who follow me, and those whom I follow in return, have gained something of my respect and admiration. I find myself wishing, sometimes, that I could write like most of you…then I remember who I am and laugh at the idea of relegating myself to being like anybody else. Even so, I’d like to share your work. Why?
Honestly, because I need material to get my Facebook page, We Drink Because We’re Poets, going. Also, while I know some of you might already be famous (tumblr famous or otherwise), there are many who are not. It never hurts to have many people sharing your work.
That all said, I am posting this to ask all of you your permission to post your work to my page. Not only will I post your work, but I will link to you in each post, and you may even get a little blurb (I understand that likely means nothing at all).
Message me here using the ask function, or just drop me a note at firstname.lastname@example.org, or, head on over to We Drink Because We’re Poets and inform me there, either by way of messaging me on my page or liking the page and posting something.
It is indeed an honor to be able to read your works, even if I don’t seem to show much interest in anyone beyond myself.
And if you’re scratching your head wondering how this can help you in any way, all I can say is, I can’t promise it will help you at all. Expose yourselves…but please keep your clothes on. I have plenty of nightmares on my own.
Dream Number 3
Before he hollered, “Fuck the police,”
he pulled a vest out for his handheld,
to be on the safe side, held it in hand,
and put the glove on, ‘cause it was Winter time
and Jack Frost was too cold
to give a flying fuck;
or was it because his tears
were frozen in mid-cry?
There was not any sense to be made
from the exclamation,
only havoc to be spread
like the hairy legs of an old door keeper
that knew the streets better
than she ever knew her husband.
That was back in the day, though,
when Cuervo tried to poison a brotha’
and Jesus kept pleading “Give me your soul,”
even though it was never for sale;
way back when perfection was
a side fuck knowing his luck
would at least hold up
until after Lady Jane
was thoroughly fucked up
on Whitespirits and Holy Water.
Dream Number 3 by Sahm King
Draw Blood IV
The lies in your mouth
are as kerosene fed flames;
when you finally burn…
…I’ll spare a school girl’s giggle…
Fiends and Femmes
I told the fiend
to stay up and dream,
taste the crack
and keep the habit.
I told the femme
to sink or swim
and tricks ain’t for kids,
They both laughed
got on some “Oh my God” shit,
‘til we shipwrecked,
and drowned beneath
stars that forgot to shine.
Just because he could,
so when the flowers died,
and the Gypsies left