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Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Snuff

Photobucket

Chemicals are soluble
mixed with blood
so it seems
fragile
memories we shared
exchanging platitudes
through half-hearted smiles

Each second with you
was a slow-motion snuff film
flashing in black and white
I was the prisoner
under your serrated knife

14 comments:

  1. Heyyy, it's Liz Vicious in there, right? Oookkay, kind of awkward...

    I still don't quite manage to get into these, but, uh, I like words, so, 'tis all cool :p

    ReplyDelete
  2. Creepy and vaguely disturbing without presenting a good reason for me to feel that way.

    I like it!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Do you watch Dexter? I'll be watching season 3, episode 4 tonight. You seem like you might enjoy Dexter. In a good way.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Mud,
    In case you didn't see my comment down below, next time you are on YouTube look at Billy Collins poem, The Dead.
    He's got some others too.

    He served two terms as the Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003. In his home state, Collins has been recognized as a Literary Lion of the New York Public Library (1992) and selected as the New York State Poet for 2004. He is a few years older than me but still writing as far as I know.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Mud -

    IMO - this is better. either that, or I'm getting used to your writing style.

    I wouldn't have said it to your earlier 'works', but - keep posting 'em.

    ReplyDelete
  6. hey thanks guys.

    living, actually this is a piece from an older poem "Photographic", so yeah.

    I like the imagery of watching a snuff film on a fucked up black and white. Conveys the agony of being with someone you love and hate at the same time.

    Some say snuff films don't exist, but I think they do. I don't know.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I had a girlfriend I had for a long time. I never really liked her, and she knew it. So, it was like each moment was me dying, and my life wasting away. Fucking bitch.
    She kept me warm though.

    I thought about calling her up, since she wants to be a submissive little bitch. Braindead catholic school girl.

    ReplyDelete
  8. and if she looked like liz vicious, I would take back everything I just said, haha

    ReplyDelete
  9. Are we dealing with some anger issues here?

    Anyway, check this one:

    8 Count


    From my bed
    I watch
    3 birds
    on a telephone
    wire.
    one flies
    off.
    then
    another.
    one is left,
    then
    it too
    is gone.
    my typewriter is
    tombstone
    still.
    and I am
    reduced to bird
    watching.
    just thought I'd
    let you
    know,
    fucker.

    Charles Bukowski

    ReplyDelete
  10. Ah heck, just one more:

    A Radio With Guts


    it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
    I used to get drunk
    and throw the radio through the window
    while it was playing, and, of course,
    it would break the glass in the window
    and the radio would sit there on the roof
    still playing
    and I'd tell my woman,
    "Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
    the next morning I'd take the window
    off the hinges
    and carry it down the street
    to the glass man
    who would put in another pane.
    I kept throwing that radio through the window
    each time I got drunk
    and it would sit there on the roof
    still playing-
    a magic radio
    a radio with guts,
    and each morning I'd take the window
    back to the glass man.
    I don't remember how it ended exactly
    though I do remember
    we finally moved out.
    there was a woman downstairs who worked in
    the garden in her bathing suit,
    she really dug with that trowel
    and she put her behind up in the air
    and I used to sit in the window
    and watch the sun shine all over that thing
    while the music played.

    Charles Bukowski

    ReplyDelete
  11. sounds good froggie

    I like the repetition of the event.
    like a person caught in an infinite loop like Parallel Synchronized Randomness (PSR).

    If the radio was unplugged, but still playing.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Mud,
    I agree, but he implies that the "current" is not broken.

    That has troubled me too. Except if you are Bukowski you can always invoke poetic license, no?

    ReplyDelete
  13. Ah!
    Good moral atheists without God.

    Sigh...

    ReplyDelete

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