You stab at my manufactured beatless heart,
and tear off my tattered burlap textile.
Puncturing the weakened breath from my tight lungs.
To you, I’m just a naked doll’s unsexed part,
while enduring revenge pain for your feigned love.
Taking mock death with a bent smile from the start.
Your list grows longer, my devotion stays true.
Our creativeness shown like expensive art.
Sharp pins and needles make me feel worthwhile,
from the tight breath puncturing my weakened lungs.
Us two, hand-in-hand, this world we must depart.
Contest Name: A New Abracadabra Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name: Emile Pinet
Style: Rhyme (Abracadabra)
Date: April 14, 2021
Categories:
unsexed, abuse, dark, devotion, gothic,
Form: Rhyme
I am the unsaved
The unwashed
The unsexed
The unknown
The less-than
The never-man
The 13th bead on a broken rosary
Dancing on the floor threshing room floor
I press my prayers into the run-out groove
If you play them backward
I’m born again
One life
One prayer
In the arrow of time
Tracking straight
In a circular orbit
Decaying
Moment by moment.
I have beads that pray for me
Every day I do 613 things is just the right way
Sometimes you need to sue the architect
When the building fails
Sometimes the windows, sometimes the walls
Sometimes a poor preparation of he land
Undisturbed soil is your best friend
Categories:
unsexed, muse, sin, vanity,
Form: Blank verse