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A thick-wrapped night, where fog,
like weeds, had sprung
and drowned Decatur Street,
'cept for a few lit eateries;
spitballs of dotted light.

A figure, running
like The Man was licking
at its neck, a teary ribbon
down its cheek a-dripping
pooling at the throat.

Wet, rib-shaking sobs blew lungs
already straining from the run,
my heart a rabid, raving felon
hammering his bars.

His prints still smeared across my wrist,
his voice an earworm drilling fast
into my brain, I dove into the mist:
a veil of doors.

A girl, a boy, I could not care,
had it been Jesus standing there
arm interlinked with that bold whore
who'd sworn himself to me.

A thousand thoughts rose in my blood:
a convent, poison, all too good
and none would help, just armour, hard
all over, 'gainst such treachery.

The cry came high: a choirboy scream.
My heels scraped gravel as the moan
grew stronger. Veiled in Chartreuse, swarming
solid mists advanced.

The Feu-Fo-Lay, my mother said,
when I was younger, in my bed,
will get you. Cover up your head!
His light is drawing near!

And always I would be asleep
in minutes, so it seemed. Beneath
the sheets, however, like a leaf,
I shook in knots of fear.

The phosperous washed over me.
All I could think was "finally
the Feu-Fo-Lay has come. He sees
that I was never sleeping."

Within the cloud, as in an egg,
a body, fragile as a rag
was silhouetted, black as slag.
I froze, as did my weeping.

Its finger pointed at my face,
a voice ill-fitting with the waif
began to pipe and resonate,
with coroner's calm, my name.

"A wish," it said, "thrown idly
into my path. You wished to be
encased in armour, utterly.
A testudo to harm."

My tongue an anvil, I stared wild
into the face that every child
has dreaded. Now amused, it smiled
and breathed, not quite a kiss,

onto my lips. Taste salt and gin.
Unpicked, spine to heel, my old skin
curled on the ground, a blood-warm cushion
for my faint. NOT THIS.

Spikes, not metal. Something sharper.
Felt like
                 scales. Some
skintight armour.

                                          Fading light.
Green. Getting darker.

                                                                          No! Come back!
Then black.
©2005-2009 ~discocabrado
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Submitted: November 16, 2005
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From Spitfire and Shuriken - Shuriken's Tale
Daily Deviation, 2005-11-30

Daily DeviationExoskeleton Blues by ~discocabrado is a narrative poem in a modern fixed structure with slant rhyme used to unsettling effect. It's about the Feu-fo-ley legend of New Orleans, and adds an extra element to the myth, rather than simply retelling it. It's intended as part of a planned fantasy poem-novel. (Suggested by ~jack-cade and Featured by `imperfect)

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nobody has read this yet? how come nobody has written anything? love these lines __



My tongue an anvil, I stared wild
into the face that every child
has dreaded. Now amused, it smiled
and breathed, swift as a trick

on my lips. Sharp like salt and gin.
Soft, easy unpicking, ripping. My old skin
hit the ground, a blood-warm cushion

Spikes, metal.

for my faint.

Get back here. Get

A green light fading.

back.



very spontaneous and rar __

go on drive your myth. and i'll worship worship you. :worship::heart:

--
--------------------------------
you robbed me away from
sinful - Jesus; :slyfart:

in love with matteo - [link]
congratulations on the DD, it's very well-deserved. this is a wonderful piece - not usually a style that i enjoy reading but this one really hooked me.

well done and again, congratulations :)

--
...and if i'm not back in 5 minutes...wait longer!

"We shall bring the beauty of erotic poetry to the masses" :D
I think my favourite stanza would be:

Wet, rib-shaking sobs blew lungs
already straining from the run,
my heart a rabid, raving felon
hammering his bars.


It demonstrates a wonderful cadence of escalation.

However, I think some stanzas are not so comfortably paced, especially:

The cry came high: a choirboy scream.
My heels scraped gravel as the moan
grew stronger. Veiled in Charteuse green
a solid mist advanced.


'a choirboy scream' is nevertheless powerful
Shouldn't it be 'chartreuse'?

Either way, I shall offer my congratulations; this is great work :)

--
~Coffeehouse had your mum last night
Nice work, very well done. A DD deserved, to be sure.

Just a couple thoughts:

-I wonder about the rhythm of "a choirboy scream", not that it's bad, but would "castrata scream" fit a bit more flowingly?

-"protected from all harm" falls quite flat for me, after jogging through the preceeding meter, easy but tense. The "utterly" before it is fine, but "protected from all harm" is just dead.

-Maybe it's just my jading to overused RPG and bad writing terms, but "Spikes, metal" isn't nearly as threatening as the rest of the poem. For so climactic a position as that line has, it would do much better to have more climactic words.


All around, very cool stuff. Strong images and feelings. The heart/felon bit was particularily enjoyable. Kudos!

--
If I'm not writing, I'm just sitting here changing oxygen into carbon dioxide. Like a baby. A little shit and piss factory, maybe one day a man. Be a man today, motherfucker.
hmm it's difficult for me to follow but it's beautifully written, I had never thought using childhood tormenters as symbolism- kudos to that, truly creative-

the "a figure running" stanza leading into "wet rib shaking sobs" there seems to be a jump from third person to first person which can be quite confusing...

I love the manner in which you present an accent in the writing- it gives it a sense of culture

once again, overall beautifully written, yet it's difficult for a simpleton such as myself to follow such a subtle plot- but poetry is what the writer sees, certainly not me.

excellent job!

--
Peace, Love and Chaos.
oh one more thing, I'm stoked to see a poet made it to the daily deviations for once

SOMETHING THAT SHOULD HAPPEN MORE OFTEN!

--
Peace, Love and Chaos.
"his voice an earworm drilling fast "

Gorgeous. Your off-the-wall metaphors have been an delightful reading. A slight strain on the continuity, possibly on purpose, the extended metaphor did waver a tad but I understand the gradual growth and tension being built.

Congratulations on a intelligently created composition.
A well deserved daily deviation :)
:omg: Wow. That was amazing! Just...wow. I loved the story you told, and the eerie way you told it fit the ominous scene perfectly. For some reason, your writing reminds me of a sort of contemporary Poe. Wonderful job. =D :+fav:
This is absolute beauty in the most painful sense. You capture flawlessly the terror and paint the scene in lovely dark words with straightforward but unusual metaphor. I love that I can see this scene running in rhythm with your words, and to the very end I don't need to have what's occurring explicitly stated to be able to create a perfectly coherent mental portrait. Congratulations... this is absolutely gorgeous.

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