SynikaL
Smash Lord
This is Not A Poem
I trampled a bed of blood colored roses/
Grown with aromas, solely for the purpose to indulge your noses/
Embellished with hellish cone-shaped thorn crowns to prick your proses/
A destroyed cluster of allegory, retains its alimony/
However rugged, because I loved every moment of the destruction/
But/
Lingers a pitfall in my gut/
I embrace a plummet, from your grassy meadowed summit/
And celebrate at its base, by lighting a cigarette from it (yuck)/
I erect a reverence of my success/
In solitude I galas, with not a clue, that/
Alas/
A tortured skeletal corpse, with decor of charcoal emerges from the grass/
With offers to this poor soul respites from normalcy/
Yet I flee/
I flee past the humming sound of buzzing bees/
And hippies hugging trees, till death cornered me at a river of broken dreams/
Bet my life on the stream, but drowned in a sea of residuals, deposited by a countless digit of individuals/
Even lost in a lake of assimilate, syndicate misfits/
I endeavor to never (ever) sever my symmetry/
Even if vivid depictions of imagery, never paint me a victory/
Convention is the catalyst/
Magnificent battle of wits, everlasting/
My bracket is fashioned beyond the enclosures of the polars of your magnets/
Which is fascinating/
. . . . .
This is a lyric I wrote as an assignment for my Creative Writing class a few months ago. While I don't like the lyric too much anymore today, I consider this work to be a pivot point in my development as a writer/person, as this assignment marked the first time I had actually read anything I had written to anyone outside one or two close friends.
The experience is still fresh in my memory, and while my recollection of the episode is mostly dominated by the air of nervousness that surrounded me during my reading of the lyric (resulting in some unattractive stumbling), the collective praise exhibited by my fellow classmates at the conclusion of its reading is quite obviously the portion I'm most fond of. The reading of the final line was glorious; like a culminating apex that siphoned the oxygen out of the entire room as a result of the collective gasps of twenty six individuals (okay, it wasn't that glorious).
I think it's the cadence that got 'em.
-Kimosabae