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Killing the Spring

When the cold rains kept on and killed the
spring, it was as through a young person had died
for no reason.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Spring had been bulldozed under.
She would not, would not, would not.
Late April, late May
and the metallic rains kept on.
From my gun-metal window I watched 
how the dreadful tulips
swung on their hinges,
beaten down like pigeons.

Then I ignored spring.
I put on blinders and rode on a donkey
in a circle, a warm circle.
I tried to ride for eternity 
but I came back.
I swallowed my sour meat
but it came back.
I struck out memory with an X
but it came back.
I tied down time with a rope
but it came back.

Then
I put my head in a death bowl
and my eyes shut up like clams.
They didn't come back.
I was declared legally blind
by my books and papers.
My eyes, those two blue gods,
would not come back.
My eyes, those sluts, those whores,
would play no more.

Next I nailed my hands
onto a pine box.
I followed the blue veins
like a neon road map.
My hands, those touchers, those bears,
would not reach out and speak.
They could no longer get in the act.
They were fastened down to oblivion.
The did not come back.
They were through with their abominable habits.
They were in training for a crucifixion.
They could not reply.

Next I took my ears,
those two cold moons,
and drowned them in the Atlantic.
They were not wearing a mask. 
They were not deceived by laughter.
They were not luminous like the clock.
They sank like oiled birds.
They did not come back.
I waited with my bones on the cliff
to see if they'd float in like slick
but they did not come back.

I could not see the spring.
I could not hear the spring.
I could not touch the spring.
Once upon a time a young person
died for no reason.
I was the same.
Momma, your daughter is dripping down the side of the world, dissipating slowly.
I thought you should know.
At night I hear the police helicopter circling like a fat buzzard, contemplating if it
will kill- perhaps, not kill. It hums as it picks the city clean while I am a sieve,
howling hungry. I gape and gape and run right through the days, thinking: to kill
or not to kill. I thought you should know.
Tuesday rolled into Wednesday and I was caught somewhere between, slipping
through myself. I dreamt of orchards: tart citrus splitting my tongue and bees
working themselves through my hair. Grandpa was there, asking after Grandma,
his shirt, crisp from the iron, eclipsing the fruits. He was no more reachable than
the summers he spent under the verandah, his shirt, crisp from the iron, safe from
the sun. I was eight, treading water, and from the edges: bursting oleander. You
were coming to pick me up, Momma. When I dried off, my legs read: MEAN MEAN!
MEAN and I was balled on the couch, busy being a sieve.

I was back at home, Momma, rotating psychosis. It was late afternoon on a
Thursday, the helicopter pesting. I thought you should know.
Stolen from :iconfuzzyhoser: because it's summed up just so well:

She is brilliant. She is beautiful. She is one of my favorite people on this whole planet. Support my lovely your-methamphetamine and be amazing.


mockinroojay.bandcamp.com/

Pairless socks:
Ferret Feng Shui.
Untitled
Published in Melancholy Hyperbole's "Doing Lines": melancholyhyperbole.com/2014/0…

:iconglory-be-project:
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Killing the Spring

When the cold rains kept on and killed the
spring, it was as through a young person had died
for no reason.
Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Spring had been bulldozed under.
She would not, would not, would not.
Late April, late May
and the metallic rains kept on.
From my gun-metal window I watched 
how the dreadful tulips
swung on their hinges,
beaten down like pigeons.

Then I ignored spring.
I put on blinders and rode on a donkey
in a circle, a warm circle.
I tried to ride for eternity 
but I came back.
I swallowed my sour meat
but it came back.
I struck out memory with an X
but it came back.
I tied down time with a rope
but it came back.

Then
I put my head in a death bowl
and my eyes shut up like clams.
They didn't come back.
I was declared legally blind
by my books and papers.
My eyes, those two blue gods,
would not come back.
My eyes, those sluts, those whores,
would play no more.

Next I nailed my hands
onto a pine box.
I followed the blue veins
like a neon road map.
My hands, those touchers, those bears,
would not reach out and speak.
They could no longer get in the act.
They were fastened down to oblivion.
The did not come back.
They were through with their abominable habits.
They were in training for a crucifixion.
They could not reply.

Next I took my ears,
those two cold moons,
and drowned them in the Atlantic.
They were not wearing a mask. 
They were not deceived by laughter.
They were not luminous like the clock.
They sank like oiled birds.
They did not come back.
I waited with my bones on the cliff
to see if they'd float in like slick
but they did not come back.

I could not see the spring.
I could not hear the spring.
I could not touch the spring.
Once upon a time a young person
died for no reason.
I was the same.

Comments


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:iconlombregrise:
lombregrise Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Professional Writer
Tagged by the greyshadow ahahah GREYSHADOW'S #44 + update: double tagged rhaaaa
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2014   General Artist
i'm so happy to see you home, dolly! :love:
Reply
:iconshinseinasenshi:
Shinseinasenshi Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Why thank you. :)
I forgive you. ;)
Reply
:iconxxpseudoxx:
xxPseudOxx Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the fave :horns:
Reply
:iconvespera:
vespera Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
very welcome :)
Reply
:iconliliwrites:
LiliWrites Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:hug: Welcome home.
Reply
:iconvespera:
vespera Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:glomp:
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
jade-pandora Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2014
:glomp: *hugging you so tight while I can!*

I didn't even know you had resurfaced even if just briefly till I saw - just now - that you'd fav'd my rensaku!!  Omgosh, thank you so much for doing that, it was like a beacon for me to follow in a blackout!

:pillowhide: *whimpers*  Missing you. . . :heart: 
Reply
:iconvespera:
vespera Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:heart:

PST check your email
Reply
:iconcarmalain7:
Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2014
I'm late to the party, but I'm glad you're back - everything was way too polite and politically correct without you, it was horrible! ;p

Hope all is well, good miss.
Reply
Add a Comment: