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Witness to a Murder (Free verse) by poetandknowit Having your cereal and toast,
dealing with morning matters,
up hours before me and
dawnâs first yawns,
when the snap came so fast
you could not move your eyes to blink.
The scurry
ended
the back broken,
metal pushing eyes
and tongue from the face
and at that moment nothing
stirred in the kitchen
not you, my love, who left our
warm bed so early,
until at last the scream
pitched so high as
to wake me from other worlds
into this one and the realization
of what i have become.
Up the ladder:
Luna Moth
Down the ladder:
rain shadow
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.0
Posted: July 31, 2003 10:25 AM PDT; Last modified: July 31, 2003 12:03 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.0 Overall Rank: 7494 Comments:
It's about fucking time. These murder poems are just too vague. Of course the writing is good ,of course it is, you can't help that, but what exactly is this about? I want that last becoming to mean more, weigh heavier. Can you please add a little more heft?
What heft? There is no heft. It is about duty. DUTY!!!!!!!! Domestic DUTY. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
...the realization
of what i have become. Screams deeper meaning. Duty or no. Or are you simply saying your a bed-head pussy-whipped house boy?
It is a pure and simple rip off of Mr. Williams. That's it. Nothing deeper. More playful than anything. And I have bed head all the time. Don't put something there that isn't there.
Okey-dokey. William Carlos? Andy? Robin?
All if you like. It is a love poem, eh?
And don't forget Treat! He is my favorite. And I believe a good friend and neighbor of Jerimi Handrinos Britt, or visa versa.
Versa good sir, thank you.
Well, well. I don't know why this poem has gotten such low ranks? It's totaly self absorbed and uninteresting. I love it!
And boring. Don't forget that.
Nice try, but rest assured I knew that going into the piece.
Question:
How do know you've hit a homerun out of Shitsvilles' muddy diamond? Answer: When your arch enemy Horus8 of the clan of eight. your sworn nemesis, gives you your highest vote yet on your new poemie. I know somewhere in that greasy briquette of carbon, you call your heart, you love me.
Everyone else has taken issue with this poem, but actually, I think it's the best thing you've written. I didn't read it as a domestic duty thing at all - I quite took it quite literally as your woman witnessing a murder and the shock of it waking you not to the reality of the murder but your own gross iniquity (what have you been up to) - a kind of community of fear and self-loathing. And it's the kind of sudden twist that I, sad sensation freak that I am, really love. Am I absolutely bleeding miles wide of the mark? Am I revealing my own vile and dripping rottenness? Yipe. I am banjaxed by doubt. I may never recover.
(psst---think rodent. think man setting trap, woman finding smashed mousy. eek!)
see: http://www.blackbird.vcu.edu/v2n1/poetry
Reading this was like wading through glue.
Why is that?
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I don't swallow.
1) His poetry was cocca, his old stuff was wayyyy better.
2) He set me up with too sweet a shot, I had to take it.
Please forgive my. My peers, my teachers... I know I have been bad, but I couldn't help it... My shit detector was red lining.
Do you still love me Z, Pk, Gw, WORLD!!!! ohhhh sweet Jesu, I am a sinner with a cursed tongue fuzz fungal birth defect called.
THE EYE OF HORUS! I see all, I am a warm wind breaking, I am the scent of dew. Yeah, okay, well... I'm going to go smoke now thanks for hearing me out. My names Jeremi I'm a Rankaholic.