Rivers Of Consciousness

Don't worry, be happy. Who knows what may happen?

Archive for the tag “Prose Poetry”

Demon

demon

I watched you die,
a gnarled contortion of before,
burning eyes raised towards me.
You ensnare my ankles
in skeletal vices
screaming
begging
it was a mistake, honest.
Lakes of magma
have no path to cross,
and taunting flames
lick your festering wounds.
Soul-less windows,
serpentine strangulation.
I do not fear you.
Manipulative greed is your anchor
but light putrefies you,
shredding you into fragments.
You are a shadow,
lurking in the crevices of my mind,
unseen whispers.
I do not fear you.
I watched you die.

 

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A late-night, darker experimental piece. Flexing poetic muscles, I suppose 🙂

Image from:
http://www.countryside-anarchist.co.uk/images/demon.jpg

Queen

More prose poetry that I submitted for assessment at Uni, with a little more focus on character this time 😀

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Image

The people complement my chains, awe in their eyes and rounded mouths. Such divine jewels draped along her throat, they whisper. Cliff-edge collarbones descending into diamonds. They don’t know these chains are my shackles. I wish my throne would devour me. It would absorb me, cavernous, casting me down between wise oak columns to fade amongst the moss. There I could lay, canopied by broad leaves with Orion as my guardian. Oh, how I love the dawn, but it has been so long since our last encounter. My palace is my prison, my king my captor. The chains snake through my hair, dripping past my ears, ensnaring my wrists. A festival delights outside my door, but I cannot add mine to the high spirits. My presence would silence, a syringe draining their pulsing electricity. I would be watched by wide eyes, studying my every move as I shimmered through the street.

As children, there was no I and Them. It was We and Us, brave hunters of the forest prowling the thickets for wolves. Adorned in feathers and tough old boots, we’d yell war cries at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, charging across pastures with cardboard weaponry. We were emperors of the tree house fortress, defending our territory defiantly from our rival neighbours. We leant on the hands of time, so keen to pass through the gates of Adulthood. We were carefree and careless. Little did we know that those gates would slam behind us. I soared with my prince to the other side of a sunset, in a tale they sing their daughters at night. But my golden tower doesn’t shine on the inside. A thousand green eyes cannot replace the emerald foliage I crave.

My pedestal leaves me out of reach from those people. Disconnected, and, disjointed. Alone.

Image

 

Image sources:
Crown – http://diamondjubilee.hellomagazine.com/imagenes/queens-jubilee/news/201206291103/queen-elizabeth-diamonds-display-buckingham/0-6-58/queen-diamonds3–a.jpg

Castle – http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/golden-castle-in-spain-rianna-stackhouse.jpg

‘Enough’ – A quick experimental piece

First things first, following my recent neglect of this blog I’ve decided to spruce it up a bit, with a new theme and improved organisation of my posts to hopefully make it generally better. It appears I am something of a binge-blogger, as I discovered whilst scrolling back through previous posts, and my recent hiatus is to be blamed on my Easter break. I do intend to post more often, whenever the creative bug bites.

Anyway, just before my Easter break I roughly threw together the skeleton for this short piece and have decided to revisit and flesh it out today. I may use it for my next Uni work but for now it is simply playing with a different style. If you know me well, don’t panic – as with most of my work it is a persona, the ‘me’ is not me 🙂
I apologise if the subject is a little…intense. Anyway, have a read and let me know what you think!

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Enough now, please. I can’t. I’m on my knees dangling from your loose hand, submerged in my own pleading. Why do you keep doing this, why do you do this to me? You’re oblivious. You don’t see, you can’t. How could you? There’s a different world behind your eyes and you won’t let me in. What will it take? Your skin scolds me yet your heart is ice, a cobra from your mouth leaving me in paralysis. I am a rabbit in the headlights, kicked in the chest by a demon that plagues me, you, plagues us. The void widens, leaving me suspended in the swirl of my own words, shards that tried to pierce the stone mask. Such contempt is a barbed needle, and once more I accept an insult that shreds me inside. It shreds me when I try to remove the sting, try to save myself from your venom. You are possessed by a malevolence you cannot reign in, and I fall prey to your corrosion. What will be left? Like a plaster on a bullet wound, sorry just doesn’t cover it. I beg, I beg, no more, please.

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