Poetry Forum

DARLING IT HURTS

"I just can’t take it anymore"
mutters Michael
shooting staples in his veins.
She claims that all his years
of self-inflicted pleasure
have apocalypsed his brains.
She explains in screams and whimpers
that skitter in shadowed lanes,
jitter by window panes shut tight,
flitter along the jagged edges of the night and
swallowed by the howl of
Taylor Square,
A blister on this city called
Pussy.

Clutching a bag to her side,
accessorized,
Jamie- a tower of cards-
stiletto stalking,
careens like a wounded bird
into the light of the morning.
Surrounded by mirrors
abandoned by friends,
lipstick, stockings
a fisher of men.
And oh
those thighs!
They draw you in
to warm demise.
But her face is
a sallow bed for
bloodshot eyes.
No amount of makeup
will save you now,
bitch.

Down in the throat
of the William St dog
one red light
in a cola black sky
cries “Enjoy”
like a siren,
leading the wayward to doom.
The sounds of secret rooms:
swallowing, sucking, grinding
bones for bread
the living dead
crawling back into the womb.

Up from the tomb
Steve hunts hungrily,
his knife-blade mind,
his body of clay,
his skeletal cheekbones
wasting away,
his medical tools,
his body of meat,
Failure in the judgement seat.
Prison tats and prison time,
crime is daddy’s legacy.
Underneath a nylon jacket
stands a man defeated,
on the anvil,
beaten into shape,
retreating.
Escape lies on
the powder lines,
nosebleeds, pingers, carton wine,
double shots, dancing queens,
all consuming TV screens,
broken egg shell self-esteem
and memories of better times.

The scars of the city run west
along train tracks,
track marks,
street signs and wonders,
over the powerlines
under the pipes,
in the glow of traffic lights.
Curling yellow,
arcing red,
boiling green,
and flaring blue across
suburban floors,
With doors locked tight-
hiding
from the jagged edges
of the night.

I like it - In fact, the only thing I don't like are the upper case letters beginning each line.

Just a couple of suggestions -

Nosebleeds, pingers, cartoned wine,
Double shots, dancing queens,
All consuming TV screens,
Broken egg shell self-esteem
And memories of better times.

If you'd like to get rid of the apology and explanation, I'll move this over to the experienced section because that's where it belongs - That's if you want it moving.

Some of it's very Eliotish.

Good stuff

Barrie

Thanks a lot barrie,
I made some edits along the lines of your suggestions, particularly with the capitals. For some reason I had it in my head that capitals were the 'proper' way to do things.
I'm more than happy for you to move this over to the experienced section if you think it belongs there...

barrie wrote:I like it - In fact, the only thing I don't like are the upper case letters beginning each line.

Just a couple of suggestions -

Nosebleeds, pingers, cartoned wine,
Double shots, dancing queens,
All consuming TV screens,
Broken egg shell self-esteem
And memories of better times.

If you'd like to get rid of the apology and explanation, I'll move this over to the experienced section because that's where it belongs - That's if you want it moving.

Some of it's very Eliotish.

Good stuff

Barrie

I've noticed recently that there is some good and highly-praised professional poetry out there that is published with Capitals at the start of the line - whether or not this was the poet's intention is unknown to me, though I suspect it was so. I wonder why some choose to, others not, and what the reasoning is. Until a few years ago I would begin each line with a Big Letter, then I stopped because everyone else had, but now I'm not so sure.

Stuart

This is potent stuff LM

The rhythm of the piece is engrossing. It draws you in and drags you through, almost faster than you might have intended.

I like the idea of returning to the imagery of S1 in the closing lines. It seems to wrap the whole up very nicely.

I’m not sure about the refrain. “Darling it hurts” appears as the title, is it necessary to include it in the text? The language feels out of keeping with the rest of the writing. On the other hand, that would leave a single line that might be accused of cliché. Don’t really have an answer, just an impression.

Interesting to see the first three verses end on “pussy”, “bitch” and “womb”. Is there an attempt to personify the city as female, or is it just coincidence?

A few nits:


and
swallowed by the howl of

the grammar seems to get stretched here.

and are swallowed

would make more sense to me, but might not maintain the tempo you have so carefully woven into this piece.


A few missed capitals

A blister on this city called
Failure in the judgement seat.
With doors locked tight-


Hyphens

self-inflicted

this looks fine when hyphenating a word, but this

Jamie- a tower of cards-

Looks a bit odd, when trying to add an aside. I don’t claim to know the convention here, but I think a space before these hyphens would work better.

In the above case, perhaps

Jamie –
a tower of cards –

would read more easily


much enjoyed

og

Thanks a lot og,
You picked out several things I've been unsure of myself- the hyphens in the tower of cards line, how to properly phrase the 'swallowed' line and even the refrain. I'll take another look...

Its interesting you mention the personification of the city as a woman. I have definitely envisioned the city as a woman in the past but I wasn't completely conscious of it here. Reading over it again, I think you might be on to something...

L M Pistola wrote:Thanks a lot og,
Its interesting you mention the personification of the city as a woman. I have definitely envisioned the city as a woman in the past but I wasn't completely conscious of it here. Reading over it again, I think you might be on to something...

Eureka! - now the poem is beginning to make sense to me.

I was interested in your use of the expression "fisher of men" - at first it seemed surreal to use a "religious" image,
but then I recalled that in Elizabethan slang a "fish" was a prostitute.

I really like the racy rhythm and the visceral imagery - BUT I don't care much for the oft repeated
"the scars of the city run deep"
- a cliche that only makes me think of old b/w docu-dramas about gangsters set in
New York or Chicago, or even worse, GOTHAM city

Nice work
Geoff
btw is your monicker (at least in part) slang?

Great rhythm, compelling piece.

Look forward to more posts.

elphin

In response to a couple of the crits I've taken out the refrain to see how it reads. Maybe because I've been reading it with them for a while now the flow between stanzas seems more disjointed to me.

I had, at one point, conceived this piece to be spoken over music. The repetition of the refrain sort of served as a kind of 'chorus'. As yet, I haven't actually written any music for it so I suppose the refrain only really serves that purpose in my own head...

Geoff- The fisher of men thing just seemed like an appropriate cluster of images in a single turn of cliche. Thinking about it now it seems I could almost write another short piece based around those images.