Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Of My Unmade Bed (A Poem)


The rumpled silk chaos
Is almost an addiction,
And the way each littered piece
Of my week rivals for
Foot space like silly, selfish children.
The broken caps of Friday’s whiskey,
Six months on the mend,
Sting my eyes like I’ve swallowed
Something stranger than
The blunt course of action it was
To lick my wounds and leave my job.
Even Nefertiti heeded the warnings,
The hills of her native home
Grinding her bohemian whims
Like broken Sphinx stone.
My dear, what I’m trying to say is
You complain of this mess
That is me as if in being genuine,
The three-day-old garbage and
Un-recycled newspapers, are unnatural.
I beg to differ, there’s still plenty
Of room for our two-day excursions,
The words of your vintage love songs
Serenading me like a six-man quartet,
The only lonely response
To my midnight cup-toss to the slush pile
Before you bruise my shoulder
With your old-man sleep,
Another 2am spent into a slumber
Of old B horror movies and
A little too much cold coffee.

Written for Magpie Tales and Sunday Whirl.

11 comments:

  1. Sharp, sprightly, quite entertaining. Well done.

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  2. For some reason i cant help but see Nefertiti as a fading , ageing Cabaret star who has seen better days , but ploughs on, nonetheless, like some Grand Old Theatre ....thanks

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  3. my midnight cup-toss to the slush pile

    Quelle horreur!

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  4. Nicely done and thanks for sharing

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  5. Nicely done and thanks for sharing

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  6. Nefertiti a brilliant inclusion...

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  7. Splendidly crafted. You sure have fitting and creative way with words. I liked the last three lines best - summoned up a certain image from my past!

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  8. Brilliant work Stacey you never cease to impress =)

    I created a prompt site and I wanted to invite you
    http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/

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  9. Amber was me and no Amber isn't my real name something is wrong with my Google account and I hadn't meant to use it

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  10. that final line is so bracing ~

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