Chantal ~ Sean Cheetham
In the thoughtless beauty of Saturday’s studied violence
Where thorn-less roses bloom designer blood-stained
I saw your glass face facet slowly crumble
As delicate deer cross killing room floor
From tomorrow’s doorway opening
To the Meta-amphetamine applause of fashion
In the figurative fever of your fugitive loose-leaf ledger
Figures weigh up of what you have managed to lose
In the drowning pool of all your possessions
Echo my footstep
Glass slipper left to crumble
Worship my beauty my plastic mother figure
Echo my footsteps
Parody my drunken stumble
Worship my pigface you pious motherfucker
In the figurative fervour of your futile loose-leaf ledger
Figures weigh up what you have managed to lose
In the decaying gleam of all your possessions
In the thoughtless landscape loveless luckless loser liar
A rope of thorns for ripped-off rambling roses
I wear your bones on drum-skin terse as tattoo
Bear my body’s slow decline
As a wooden floor
Bears the weight of the past’s stiletto apex
Where thorn-less roses bloom designer blood-stained
I saw your glass face facet slowly crumble
As delicate deer cross killing room floor
From tomorrow’s doorway opening
To the Meta-amphetamine applause of fashion
In the figurative fever of your fugitive loose-leaf ledger
Figures weigh up of what you have managed to lose
In the drowning pool of all your possessions
Echo my footstep
Glass slipper left to crumble
Worship my beauty my plastic mother figure
Echo my footsteps
Parody my drunken stumble
Worship my pigface you pious motherfucker
In the figurative fervour of your futile loose-leaf ledger
Figures weigh up what you have managed to lose
In the decaying gleam of all your possessions
In the thoughtless landscape loveless luckless loser liar
A rope of thorns for ripped-off rambling roses
I wear your bones on drum-skin terse as tattoo
Bear my body’s slow decline
As a wooden floor
Bears the weight of the past’s stiletto apex
4 comments:
I think I need some Anger Management
i loved this poem. fuck anger management.
the pious motherfucker line was marvelous. and the word play throughout was wild and effective.
Harlequin has it right!
Brilliant bit of writing!
Forgot to mention. This Poem made me think of the song, Cave in Hell, by Narrow Terence, off the album Narco Corridos.
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