Two Faced Words

Two faced words chew my palm
damning my do, goading my don’t.

Naked verse climbs the shadows
of the devil’s temptation and I spin
in the lusting until hell kicks
me to the other side of my mind.

My keyhole pupils reflect star field hallucinations
where a pen whores itself for adoration
while a raven plucks midnight from my vocal chords.

Heartbreak falls in marble dust across my pillow
and I breathe nightmares through tar lungs
scorched from burning a candle at both ends.

“Sweet dreams are made of this.
Who am I to disagree?”

©Susie Clevenger 2015


Real Toads ~ Words Count With Mama Zen

Ending quote is from Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics

Sorry Mama Zen I went over 80 words.

Comments

Fireblossom said…
The raven, the tar lungs, the marble dust, all of the images in this are sharp and arresting. Wow, Susie.
September 11, 2015 at 3:40 AM
brudberg said…
Susie, this is so good and inspired in its darkness.. Especially the 4th stanza.. the materials of dreams, and weaving in Eurythmics at the end. Extremely clever.
September 11, 2015 at 3:42 AM
hedgewitch said…
Just exquisite, Susie. The tension and the cadence of this reveal the writing dynamic all too well--that unknown force which kicks our brain from one side of the skull to the other, and the driving force of that whoring pen. Really excellent framing of the subject, executed with an unerring touch.
September 11, 2015 at 7:15 AM
Glenn Buttkus said…
It's like you are the devil's advocate, turning the magic pen, our sacred implement of dreams & communication, into a skank, a slut, who puts out for money/fame/glory. I guess your point is well taken, but as Bobby Bird says, "It's a good time to be a poet, but the pay is still shitty". Perhaps we, of the poetic persuasion, do need an extra dose of ego to put our work, our selves out there, but hey,"dreams are made of this". I like your lines /I spin/into the lusting until hell/kicks me to the other side of my mind/.
September 11, 2015 at 9:25 AM
Jim said…
Why don't we listen to the poet instead of spinning in lust and sneaking to the keyholes where wrong information lurks?
In my mind I'm thinking that Bob Dylan could put the right emphasis here. I enjoyed reading and am sure I missed a lot.
..
September 11, 2015 at 9:43 AM
Gail said…
I could "see" all you wrote about, wonderful piece.
September 11, 2015 at 9:45 AM
Maude Lynn said…
This was too good to stop at 80 words! My favorite lines are the openers. Wish I'd come up with those.
September 11, 2015 at 10:59 AM
Kerry O'Connor said…
My keyhole pupils reflect star field hallucinations
where a pen whores itself for adoration...

Phew! This is a really telling piece, Susie.
September 11, 2015 at 11:22 AM
Gillena Cox said…
oh your imagery in this poem is nothing short of astounding

much love...
September 11, 2015 at 5:16 PM
Outlawyer said…
This is just chockfull of really cool images and phrases--well done, Susie. k.
September 12, 2015 at 6:50 AM
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Wow, kiddo. "While a raven plucks midnight from my vocal chords". An impressive write.
September 12, 2015 at 12:36 PM
Hannah said…
Love this, "where a pen whores itself for adoration
while a raven plucks midnight from my vocal chords." and your choice of song!
September 12, 2015 at 4:34 PM
grapeling said…
each verse is rich; I returned to read it again to savor them. who, indeed ~
September 16, 2015 at 1:12 AM
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