deepundergroundpoetry.com
Scabs
Hanging from hands tied overhead,
Silence should seem a balm.
But if I’ve learned one thing at all,
It’s not to trust dead calm.
Down the corridor I was lead
With pokes and sneers and jibes,
To be strapped up before a wall
No word really describes.
I heard the whip, a split second
That seemed to last forever
Took place, before it peeled the skin
And left the flesh dissevered.
Then, as if by stillness beckoned
'Cross the very depths of hell,
Came the whooshing and the crack again
That struck the soul as well.
Around the back, about the chest,
And ending next the heart…
Over and over and over again
I, piece by piece, fell apart.
But then silence, so sweetly blessed,
Descended upon me,
As if atonement for my sin
Could somehow set me free.
I wallowed in the seeming bliss,
Felt my wounds being licked;
And rested for I did not know
I was but being tricked.
These scabs my Judas stopped to kiss,
Then quickly ran away.
Though I from this wall did not go,
And remain to this day.
Feeling the whip cracking once more,
(Future in past portrayed);
In skin and scabs and flesh and bone
On wall, proudly displayed.
My Judas watching from the floor
Of dark ambivalence,
Where worried sighs and pity shown
Never allay the suspense.
And so I bide my time each night,
Wait scabs to be repealed…
Know home a myth and hope a lie
The day may never yield.
And dream, self-aggrandizing plight
To which I wish I were blind...
For what man is allowed to die
To that unforgiving mind?
Published 5th Sep 2015
| Edited 6th Sep 2015
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The author encourages honest critique.
5th Sep 2015 11:50pm
6th Sep 2015 8:47am
Ah, thank you for visiting my page and your nice reply, Luna. So glad you enjoyed.
Michael
Michael
Michael, well written and dark.
I could hear the cracking of the
whip almost feel the pain.The
the well known references to
Bible increased the level of
intensity for me. Enjoyed
Keith
6th Sep 2015 2:20pm
Ah, thanks for the visit in this darker than my usual dark place, Keith. I truly didn't expect to see many familiar faces down here. Sucks when life becomes a never-ending torment and you're not really sure how you got there, you only know ending it is beyond your control and the only person who could help is the one who put you there to begin with...all you can do is wait for the next crack.
Appreciate the visit, and I'm glad you found the poem enjoyable. Don't let your eyes adjust to this darkness though...it's damning in its own right.
Michael
Appreciate the visit, and I'm glad you found the poem enjoyable. Don't let your eyes adjust to this darkness though...it's damning in its own right.
Michael
6th Sep 2015 8:38pm
i love that you've chosen a whip here... not only painful when in finally collides with skin, but the anticipation Of the blow... i sometimes feel is worse; flinching at nothing but the sound of leather & air, the thunderous crack... the heat that makes skin expand before it bursts open... it truly is a bastard... but there's worse out there (trust me, i'm a masochist ltm)
this is dark, michael... so very fuckin dark, i'd like to strike a match making my way through it; the betrayal here is overwhelming, taking center stage in the repetition
"I wallowed in the seeming bliss,
Felt my wounds being licked;
And rested for I did not know
I was but being tricked.
These scabs my Judas stopped to kiss"
... devastating indeed, mon ami
xoxox
this is dark, michael... so very fuckin dark, i'd like to strike a match making my way through it; the betrayal here is overwhelming, taking center stage in the repetition
"I wallowed in the seeming bliss,
Felt my wounds being licked;
And rested for I did not know
I was but being tricked.
These scabs my Judas stopped to kiss"
... devastating indeed, mon ami
xoxox
7th Sep 2015 6:41am
Gawds I love your description...should have sought it out before writing...damn! Instinctively I knew the anticipation had to be the worst...Knowing tightening up will only make it worse, but then how could you possibly help it? Dead on in your assessments, dear Katja... and the repetition is the Bitch of a gift that just keeps on giving. I thank you for your very descriptive reply, and for the appreciation I knew you might find for this piece. So glad you enjoyed.
Michael
Michael
