Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Stuff of Stiff Necks and Egos

We bloody each other by tearing hearts out 
from behind breastplate's weak spot. Grab a fistful. 
Eat it warm, still pumping. Nourish our 
egos this way. High false fronts, decorated fancy
 like a western town street. Only a movie set. Nothing
 behind the facade but props holding it up. The bad ugly 
never turns back into good again, no matter the 
proffered charms, favors, or money. No camera lens caught
the poetic lines of a life colored with lyrics, once shining 
with rainbow music. A poem panting, a song unsung, 
a maybe masterpiece crumpled up, ditch side. Gasping unnoticed, 
it bleeds, spilling a useless puddle in the brown flour dust
unable to grow anything anyways.  
The victor grows strong in that infertile
spot by sucking seeping red strength 
up through the straw of his growing weakness. 
Being neither artist, creator, nor 
savior - narcissistic need compels his thirst.
Charisma parades, but has its own false front
 held up by dry rot. Hollow strength, limp with cowardice. 
Lack of empathy - even for himself - keeps
  him impotent, full, yet painfully
unable to get relief from reckless rage. 
Stiff neck rectifies frustration; it supports 
keeping up appearances. 

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