sunday sonnet . exquisite corpse poetry
post poetry . guestbook . contact . home .
. poetry of l.m. hutchings .

· You may post your own poems and/or some personal favorites by others (properly credited of course).
· When commenting on poems please be polite and use constructive critism.
· If your poem is explicit in any way please put a warning in the title. This is harsh language, sexual descriptions, etc.

"Le Père des Mensonges" by Kay (me)
16.12.2004 02:10
[No rhymes -- just random thought. :) If anyone wants to e-mail me, do so at Garsh, and to everyone please be nice and don't steal my work.]

The times of my bloody tears and my crimson love

have left me and yet I remain drowned in the anamnesis that I cannot escape.

Not with total awareness I walk where the path has been worn

by dancing heels and rubber soles of dreams

as glints of red gauze and mists of foggy ancestry greet me with curses

no longer potent yet with voices that throb harmlessly with the beat of my own life.

A stream runs red as arias of weeping violins choke the sky

with black smudges of broken photos dusty with forgotten recollection for

I am Macbeth, King of Men yet ruler of nothing, driven into the gray shadows

of my life by the same temptress who in her glorious light beseeched Napoleon to her breast

and I cry “Woe to Josephine and woe to my own!”

Lured by the poisoned words of a honeyed whore I tread softly

through this hellish black wood that I have fabricated for myself

thinking “What, this Inferno? What of my pardon?” but then I see

no Virgil to guide me as the harpies of reason nip at the raw heels of denial --

denial that I still cloak myself with, blind to its tattered uselessness.

Yet this sinner still wonders why the winter cold chills hollow bones.

And even as I walk on shards of broken love and brush away thorns

of false smiles the Dark Castle above thunders silently with comforting ruthlessness

up on the hallowed hills that I have sought refuge in for so many empty years.

Will I accept the rose of salvation that will guide me out of this tangled wilderness?

The hag extends her withered hand to offer me a red red rose

a rose with the power to take away power and tumble the Dark Castle of my dreams

and I turn her away into the freezing winter gloom --

forgive me hag for I am a beast, a beast still shackled to my own chain of desire

whilst choking on the remnants of my dreams.

And still as I continue my journey I lose myself in the endless void of my life and think

times of my bloody tears and my crimson love

have left me and yet I remain drowned in the anamnesis that I cannot escape.
18.12.2004 00:17
This is amazing. It's filled with such intense imagery. I especially like "Lured by the poisoned words of a honeyed whore I tread softly". Really wonderful work! Thanks for sharing it.
21.12.2004 00:23
Thanks, Lee! :) Your comment means a lot.
18.01.2005 12:34
That is a breath taking poem if ever there was one.
I loved the part of"king of men yet ruler of nothing"I'll have to email you my poem called "The Watcher"
thx again for the enlightenment.
04.03.2005 03:16
Bwah, my e-mail is changed. It's:

I'm having problems with my other one. So please e-mail me at the above address to discuss poetry-stuff. :)

I'm sorry, Lee, for taking up your space . . .
Add a Reply

The owner of this site accepts no responsibility for copyright infringement.
© 2004 LM Hutchings | forum script