Sunday, November 14, 2010

Fishing


He casted again half heartedly, using his memories as bait
Trolling for the soul of his dead sister
Sobbing through spoiled milk cataracts
He sang a song of regret and resurrection

Hells slow roll torture, christened “The Tide”
Takes wayward souls on an endless ride
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Your dimpled past leaks slowly south
To lands of black and bleeding sores

First he caught the mouth of son
Chattering like an island primate, scolding
Painting verbal manslaughter
Vilifying a fathers role or lack thereof

Hells normal course, christened “The Knife”
Takes petulant souls filled with strife
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Your crumpled morals pouring south
To lands of fire and brimstone shores

Next he caught the daughters arm
Slapping and swinging to find solid purchase
A fathers face is not for loving her
When his fucking hands were made for groping

Hells express slide, christened “The Gun”

Hidden from the rays of any sun
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Pull that seaweed from your mouth
Your fast and loose soul headed south
To lands of demons minding stores

When he did catch his sisters soul
It was black and not savable
He screamed her name and cursed
His inability to have loved her enough to help

Hells ultimate pain, christened “The Life”
You stay right here missing your wife

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Your weary mind not headed south
To lands where Gods forget the scores

13 comments:

  1. ... memories as bait...and such terrible fish hooked. The wonder of this poem is in its imagery and emotion. The repeated line 'Pull seaweed from your mouth' gets me every time. Love it, Corey.

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  2. Here is the end of the year awards 4 you, enjoy!

    End of The Year Awards 4 Friends of Jingle or Jingle Poetry Community

    Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

    Your support has been a delight to us, at this time of the year, We wish you all the best !

    Link up a poem to our potluck today, We send blessings all the way to brighten your day!

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  3. This poems hits a strain for me as today I just wrote a poem for two dear friends who just lost parents.
    This piece has a wailing, frantic element - like the early stages of mourning (and the later as well).

    I also love the duet you did with Kerry a poetic conversation

    don't know if you know about One Stop Poetry. we are a community of poets: sharing, inspiring hopefully growing as writers
    please feel welcome anytime
    http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com

    Nice to meet you - Leslie
    oh and Happy New Year

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  4. wow, oh wow. such a dark place, this is. i want to hear you sing this, low and powerful, my brother.

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  5. "using his memories as bait
    Trolling for the soul of his dead sister
    Sobbing through spoiled milk cataracts" ... Really like this section.

    "Pull that seaweed from your mouth
    Pull that seaweed from your mouth
    Your dimpled past leaks slowly south" ... I can almost hear this being chanted by small children in a horror movie.

    Ugh, this is a creepy and painful poem. I'm going to think about it a bit and come back to comment again later.

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  6. grim, dark and tantalisingly fascinating refrains.This could well be Charon's song to his passengers.

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  7. Oh, he is headed for the dark side where he'll always be warm. Yikes!
    Gripping, gritty, creepy, absorbing read Corey.

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  8. Corey this is reminding me of being trapped in a Steven King novel---nothing is what it seems, but everything means more than you think. The refrain sounds like something the crazy character in the corner cell sings to you all night in a small-town prison, while you scream at him to shut up, knowing he won't. You're bringing the grue and working overtime with this one.

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  9. honestly i was going to reference stephen king, too, but i felt like it would be WAY too obvious coming from me to you. but know hedge has said it, and i concur, babyluv.

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  10. What can I say Corey...love the repetition and story of searching and finding his sister's soul ~ Dark and chilling with your signature touch ~

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  11. Another song, this one a grotesque ballad of love gone wrong! I love that it is a brother who cares, but hate the relics he has created to survive with and see through, poor misguided devil. Hauntingly vivid phrases: "Your dimpled past leaks slowly . . ." "Painting verbal manslaughter" "A fathers face is not for loving her / When his fucking hands were made for groping" -- and the son's mouth, daughter's arm, sister/wife--the refrain--this is a masterpiece of horror.

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  12. Knowing a little of the story, I appreciate how deeply these words cut, and that sometimes reality is more brutal than fiction.
    This is such a brave write, and the hopelessness and recognition that we cannot always save the ones we love is a universal grief.

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