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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Poisoned


jonadine

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SSSSSSSSlick like a viper,

 

Fanged thoughts sink under skin,

 

Laying carnivorous eggs,

 

Like a spider wasp.

 

Leaving slimy slug trails,

 

The wriggling larvae,

 

Pupate into venomous steam.

 

I can hear it,

 

The shrill wailing teakettle shriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeek

 

Of pressure cooked lies.

 

They bubble up from oily depths,

 

Collecting in corners,

 

Like the shriveled char

 

In a deep fryer.

 

The crackling carbonized residue

 

Taints the whole

 

And I eat that pain

 

Like potato chips

 

Till all that comes of creativity

 

Is poison

Edited by Jomeansme
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  • 3 months later...

Okay, so my take on this is you are trying show us how pain inspires you to write or be creative.

 

A lemons into lemonade triade thing huh? *nods* Well done. You have talent, so don't hold back. Get personal. You can always reign it in later. Pick one vivid and painful moment, which inspired you, then bring in some details to flesh out say the middle of the poem. Doesn't have to be much, but when people hear pain, they want something solid to connect too, something they can relate to their own lives. If you're preforming this, your emotional performance can carry the audience along with you. But since, your tone has already prepared them to sympathise with you, give them something they can chew on, they can see, something that might have happened to them, and then not only will the sympathise, they'll empathize with you.

 

keep writing.

 

cheers,

 

rev

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  • 1 month later...

SSSSSSSSlick like a viper,

Fanged thoughts sink under skin,

Laying carnivorous eggs,

Like a spider wasp.

 

Leaving slimy slug trails,

The wriggling larvae,

Pupate into venomous steam.

I can hear it,

 

The shrill wailing teakettle shriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeek

Of pressure-cooked shouts, packed in lies,

crammed full and SLAMmed shut

like my suitcase when I left you.

 

It bubbles up from oily depths,

Blame collecting in corners,

Like the shriveled char

In a deep fryer.

 

The carbonized residue crackling and shifting

Like embers after a house fire,

The walls falling in,

Memories dissipating like smoke

 

That burns eyes, and stains lungs

with a black rime that sticks to everything

And I eat that pain

Like potato chips, and it tastes like poison.

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Just about done... I think

 

Mixed Metaphor

 

SSSSSSSSlick like a viper,

Fanged thoughts sink under skin,

Laying carnivorous eggs,

Like a spider wasp.

 

Leaving slimy slug trails,

The wriggling larvae,

Pupate into venomous steam.

I can hear it,

 

The shrill wailing teakettle shriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeek

Of pressure-cooked shouts, packed in lies,

crammed full and SLAMmed shut

like my suitcase when I left you.

 

Blame bubbles up from oily depths,

collecting in corners,

Like the shriveled char

In a deep fryer.

 

The carbonized residue crackling and shifting

Like embers after a house fire,

The walls falling in,

Love dissipating in the smoke

 

That coats everything in a black rime

That burns eyes, and stains lungs

And I eat that pain

like potato chips made of poison.

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