Dirty Beggar

*1st post whore*

Havent posted p's in a while, but will get the ball rolling for us here.


Her voice was entirely irritation
when she asked if the ketchup on the floor
was blood. From the kitchen we follow
piece meal footprints,
It leads to a clatter of pills,
pulled teeth and ladders.
A crunch of door sepa-
rates our thick-skinned dis-
Belief; so blame
-less, we are. After all,
a black seed cannot be trusted
even in the globe of an infants
eye. It is through our choosing
she un-knows this shaking,
woolly hulk and pack snarl;
my wing span and strength of leg;
her pristine sink my piss pot.

I encourage people to read this poem twice. I was intrigued the first time and I loved it the second time. Great mixture of somber nonchalance and moodiness along with awkward and original images. The last line is a fabulous tongue twister, alliteration or a name of a thrash band.

I second Ina on the double-read. It really brings about an awkward moment of thoughts and imagery, and ends with a nice double standign phrase that contradicts itself. I really like the flow of it, It. Excellent write and great way to christin the poetry section, much like how Ina blessed the short stories section.

I really, really enjoyed this:

love it wrote:A crunch of door sepa-
rates our thick-skinned dis-
Belief; so blame
-less, we are. After all,
a black seed cannot be trusted
even in the globe of an infants
eye.

Starting with the separation of the word separates. It was so fitting. Almost physical.

Thankyou for your comments fellow lobsters =)

I really liked it except that I didn't really know what it was about.

LOve, Sel.