A piece of me unsure A Suite in Four

I. A piece of me unsure.

Running away from women
running away from sense
escaping from dissections
they place in their despise.
Slide and cut and multiply
instinct mark their own
cut and run from all I’ve done
to warrant this defence.

Safety lies in being alone
complete is all the wait
to have what I do seldom wish
my conscience in this state
Do not compete they shoot at you
and never seek to hope
collect yourself inside your skin
determine yours to grope
for colours and your wishes grind
against this weary shore
when women want, then women get
a slice of you unsure.

II.
A Contest of Catharsis or why the poet and painter creates.

A shoal of words applies converged
upon a restless rhyme
An instance of the truth because
it matters more each time.

A letter being confounded seeing
the right before the wrong
A simple turn, a language burn
leave or stay, for long

Frighten away, what to say
a lack of all control
Surprise at last, with what has past
in all the stories told

Write them down, not to confound
but to get at all that’s ill
scrape and maim, the tears that stain
the result this bitter pill

And finally ask, catharsis passed
the reasons are they honest?
the blessed speech, its hand unique
future controls the contest

III. In licking nerves of stress
It comes, and sometimes goes, this fear of what he knows
This rakish sudden bliss of what isn’t and what is.
The flying in one’s heart as the knotting willed to start
of all he can accomplish in the language of his anguish
that wrings his neck and soul in the slip he once controlled.
of all the women learned, it is not what contact earned
He is sick of all this flesh, the reasons for this mess
Yet fathoms nothing new, the world revolved round you,
the one he cannot have, his symptoms up for grabs,
of love and taste and guts, he spews the contents up.
nothing sure under sun would chase this only one.
He often still considers sex to be his only best
The leopard and the spots that change for what he’s got.
Now and never been, for all this jewelled sheen
of diamonds comes to shove; his art is cut this rough.
She does not care for once when fate lets only chance
He hates the slack hand weight that thinking she creates.
So leave it all gone by breath heavy let it lie.
Of course it comes so slow, as above then so below
For what considered love becalms eventual bluff
of this, that and another he would be less to bother,
of comfort in between his lack of conscience seen.
For if at once he’s scared what then can be repaired?
He has no wishes left they are gone, locked up, bereft
For all that this was good, she did what she only could.
Complete the only way, not what I do, just what I say
In licking nerves of stress becomes what I do best.

IV.
Insane inside my head.

Useless, she just said.
Stop composing in your head
do something sane instead
of sitting there with blamed
words infesting in your mind
that are nothing but as you find
bits of voice or empty waste
and stink of poorly taste
earning nothing I call mine
with no money cannot buy
my future all but lie
insane inside your head
oh I wish that you were…..

oh I wish that you were…..
insane inside your head
my future all but lie
with no money cannot buy
earning nothing I call mine
and stink of poorly taste
bits of voice or empty waste
that are nothing but as you find
words infesting in your mind
of sitting there with blamed
do something sane instead
Stop composing in your head
Useless, she just said.

A piece of me unsure A Suite in Four

Kenart

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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Artist's Description

What I don’t understand and what I will never understand.

Artwork Comments

  • jennyfnf
  • Kenart
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  • Kenart
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