Short Gutted Poems

red cherry pit
gutted, c-sectioned
fingertips stained

5/27/2018...

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stabbing? not enough!
you had to finish the job
you left me: gutted...

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Gutted by the sight
Of a sleaze sleazing his way,
His secrets well-kept,
But seeing her sweet smile
Makes me think I'm Il Mostro...

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I am a fish out of water,
Hanging with my mouth open wide.
Eyes hardly seeing,
Swishing to and fro,
Waiting to be gutted, 
on this open boat....

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THE GUILT I CARRY
IT'S STAGGERING
IMMENSE
I AM HOLLOW
BROKEN DOWN
DEAD INSIDE
THESE WALLS
I'M FILLED UP
WITH PAIN
UNBOUNDING
I'M GUTTED....

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I am not that person
I was not that person
I may never be that person
for
that person is me
unfree
hiding inside an old
gutted-out tree

trunk...

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A word is just a word
dormant on a plate 
until..
it is read seen heard
or maybe too late
A soul is just a sole 
floundering pon the shore
til its fed a life line
gutted or moored...

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TO TEPPO

"to a gracious poet, we were adorned, farewell my poetic friend"

Indy

"Gutted" as in absolute . . ....

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I cannot afford a street hooker
It’s two fifty bucks just to book her
I’m broke I’m not loaded
My life has imploded
I’m gutted as she was a looker

Bawdy Limerick Contest
Sponsor Tania

12/25/18...

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A bird has
changed its body,
downgraded to

a requiem of light bones,
a lost map of flight,
a bag of foreign coins.

Black as old water,
empty as a gutted fish,
still as a prayer,

skinless as the
crashed sky,
eyeless with dismay....

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Growl
Grasp at life
Flushed out in full flight
Wind's wild moaning warmth
Frisks it, whisked
Up
From fist clench
Fingers curled tense- tight
Unfurl hurts
Gasps
Of air rasped
Hoarse sounds break from husk
Gutted heart
Thumps

Posted 2017....

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Glorified is the 
Blessing of happiness.

What fills us
Leaves us gutted.

Empty is the life
Which holds no sorrow,

For constant extremity 
Is a soul’s demise.

And highs cannot be 
Without lows to compare,

Hence the full consumption of joy
Be the predestine of anguish....

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The old church sits
Squalid in its agony
Bitten by the earth

The air groans

The gates swung wide
Her innards raped
Gutted by vultures

Still darkness falls from the sky

It is a Murk,
A cancerous toxin
Spreading into the roots

The old world rises

Where survival rules
None are free
No miracle comes from ruin

The decay lurches on...

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The man is an idiot
yes I fell in love with an idiot
An absolute idiot and
I fell for the bait…
The idiot man
was my fate.
Am gutted, am completely shattered
my heart is broke, torn and splattered
I had faith, I had a plan
Did not I deserve an intelligent man?

My friend did say and quite so piteous
“Don’t worry love all men are idiots!”...

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Gutted, a fish out of water.
It was dark then, but now,
There’s a night with no stars.
The ice always looks so sturdy
But even ice can melt, with time.
Lies lured me from my pond,
And now I’m hollow, hung out to dry.
Memories make a meager meal,
And so I must be the next course.
Mouth opening, closing, gasping;
No air, floundering in death throes.
I’m out of place....

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Will the sky topple inward
or the hills heap upwards
it I do not make these symbols
upon a snow-white field?

Will a poet turn to stone
before my eyes
or will a jackdaw caw
pointlessly into a gale?

And now the thin thread
thickens
becomes a full gutted snake 
laying across a dusty road

or is it a rope
knotted and curling
as obtuse as any 
imponderable script?...

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Brain switched off from reality 
Holding our past still 
Hearts beat loud and strong
Rats flood the streets of your town
Cats pray on the weak and slow
My limbs sold for dice

Lets play a game of definition 
Your you and i'm us
Gods touch of the world he once held in his hands
Destroyed by the genes of life 
Mother land taken by the fathers
Gutted and hung for all to see ....

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GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE
IM STUCK IN MY HEAD
STEADY TALKING 
BUT SO MUCH IS BEING LEFT UNSAID
SO MUCH UNHEARD
SO MANY UNSPOKEN WORDS
RUNNING TOWARDS MY THOUGHTS
REACHING FOR MY SANITY
BUT IT SEEMS BEYOND MY REACH
SOON TO BE BEYOND MY SIGHT
IM LOSING CONTROL OF WHATS SUPPOSE TO BE MY LIFE
SOUL & SPIRIT BEING GUTTED OUT BY THE SHARPEST KNIFE
SOMETHING HAS TO END THIS PAIN
OR THIS LIFE......

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I’m tired of the view from my window
With the same old shaggy dog,
Gutted out cars,
And frozen mud footprints.

Tired of the view
That focuses on screaming two year olds,
Half eaten PBJ’s,
And the lost toys that map their world.

I’m tired of
The mindless adults that don’t listen,
Spreadsheets and data bases,
And group work in Stats.

I want a view
That will change,
A view I can keep,
A view that will stay....

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While I sit here,
Gutted by anguish,
With feelings so powerfully palpable
I can reach out and hold it 
with my bare hands,
You, the personification of Kintsukuroi,
simply sew yourself back together
With endless golden thread,
As if you’d never been shattered 
In the first place.
If only I’d known how to do that,
If only i’d learned to turn mountains
Into small bumps,
I would be as wholly healed
As you seem to be....

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Let your soul stain the paper
Like your blood stains the floor
Smearing squalls of liquidated life
On the palms of your scribbled war

Squeeze your heartache with your hand
Like a sermon spills a pariah’s plight
Cleansing the sins of your visceral voice
With the tears from which you write

Strain the sediment of your strife
Like starvation scavenges a gutted shore
Siphoning the spoils of weeping wounds
Dripping from the lines of your lore...

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Polar bear
Sapped
Dreary 
Thin

Visible world falling apart
Real time tragedy

Climate change shackles to fasten him to numbing hunger
Ragged white fir coat growling through its misery
A broken grimness in gutted nature
No ice drift of salvation

Till the last polar bear dies in a smoke chain of complacency
National Geographic special

This too passes into history
Toxic forgetfulness
           like a channel flicked
And every screen's back to normal....

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Listen to poem:

Shadows are unforgiving,
stark in relief,
dark in infill. 
These stiff hollow silhouettes
of gutted entrails
follow us around,
lacking the detachment
to avoid being brutally honest
about our outline shape and
where we've been and why.
We avoid looking back at
the shadowy dark-side behind us
that is plain as day
to those who watch our
tell-tale umbras
that trail behind
as tails
as wagging truth sayers,
dark, stark, stiff
unforgiving naked, 
rear-view selfee cut-outs....

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Changes at CNN

CNN has cut its staff
Jewish writers are all gone
Leaving only Arab journalists
There to carry on

I’m not saying they’ll be biased
Or reporting won’t be thorough
But it’s just the office gutted
Was their small Israeli Bureau 

CNN used to send out both
An Arab and a Jew
To cover any story
In the mid-east that is true

Now I wonder what this means
When reporting on those scenes
Will we get the truth from the mid-east climes
Or the Fatah and the Hamas lines

Mdailey	2/10/12...

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JOURNAL II – The
Last Few  

The old, empty house
     just next door.
They say it’s
gutted, pipes and
all.
It’s boarded-up now
     sad     
ghostly,
The metamorphosis
over a long period

Walking by one day I
wonder at the wealth
of 
Roses by the front
sidewalk
Life goes on
And I catch at the
realization

Such a wealth of
flowers,
Such beauty fronting
the ugly old place
I smooth a petal
with one finger,
deep in thought
Oh yes, the last few
will be searching...

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