ADDICTED: A POEM WITHIN A POEM.
We blewsmoke like chimneys,
Our lips as black as our hearts,
As wrinkled as our lungs.
You coughed up phlegm and blood
Without laughter or words,
Even though we shook with mirth,
And merriment and you hid it well.
We wiped tears off your eyes even
Though the pain had faded to a distant
Throb aided with those quick tokes
Of weed and morphine drunk with gin.
We lit the cigarettes with shaky hands
And offered late prayers to the sky.
We watched morning rise and in
Your silence , your pleas were the loudest.I stumbled, you fell flat on your back,
As liquor greased your limbs like vaseline
On black skin, like grease on machine gears,
Slippery like slime on scrubbed tiles.
Your broken shin peeked a bleached bone,
The flesh flapped bleeding lips at me,
Your swollen eyes slit with concrete sleep and
Your bloated skin breathed with deathOn a mortician's cold table; sleep sweet.
Mother is too tired, she weeps and father,
He can barely speak or sit stillYet I, I still giggle and scratch, itch and laugh.I come and go; Lime, weed and gin,
Morning and night, my prayers speaks.
Smoke enters my lips and curses fall out
Of my tongue like the slavering spittle
Of a mindless beast roaming its own hell.
Mother is a distant shadow, always
Creeping through your room , seeking
Memories of you among the remnants of
Your, no our now faded discarded dreams.
A bit of liquor to ease words, grease speech,
temper guilt and stutter thoughts
And she wears me your holy name.
Feel my hips as I sway to some music.
The breeze is clean, washing my hair
And skin with dust and eloping flower petals
We are like ghosts since you left us here.Drunk and coughing bloody phlegm,
I wait my turn on the greyish queue.
A man watches the sun set and calls it
A beautiful blessing from above.
A man cradles his memories and
Caressing them, sings a lullaby.
There they are, the ones you seek,
My bony friend hidden in the shadow;
The dying, the dead and the undead.
Watch them carefully , watch them live
And maybe you will learn a thing or two.
It has been a while since I tried my hands at this my poem within poem experiment. I am yet to make the part that is similar to an erasure poem come together. Give it time though, it will come.
The lines in the erasure style part of the poem are below;
AN ODE TO THE DYING
Smoke black as phlegm,
Laughter shook and tears
Pain aided, weed lit
Offered watched silence.
Flat limbs on scrubbed
Bleached lips, concrete
Death sleep and still itch
Weed my lips
Slavering roaming shadow,
Room the discarded words
Stutter me as is with ghosts.
Bloody, greyish sun,
Blessing cradles them,
The hidden dead carefully learn.
There you have it. Does it make sense? Tell me your thoughts.
©warpedpoetic, 2019.
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Love the main poem but the one within made no sense to me at all. I mean, what is smoke black as phlegm? What smoke is as black as phlegm!? Perhaps phlegm as black as smoke...but not the other way round, surely.