Changed the title of one and edited it a bit

In Medias Res:
Violence, violence
sweeps through the floor
like the hem of a rag
on a doll-faced hooker
as the lights are dimmed
in this conscience-distorted
brothel, of sorts.

To him, the raindrops taste like whiskey
so who's to blame him
for being a drunkard?

He will not take such condescension,
and so he shall pass it onto thee
like a hot potato;
just say the third-degree burns
came from hugging the stove.

For you, life is not a Lifetime movie
looking at your bruises in the mirror
to a Celine Dion power ballad;
the days are a beach of intenstines
set alongside waves of toxic waste,
the moon now a mood ring
sitting atop the knuckles
of your vengeful king.

This decade of brutal purging,
atonement for sins not yet committed,
has felt as consuming
as his figure those Thursday nights
when he's stalking for his property,
and you're close-mouthed
under the bed,
looking through barely a slab
of this virtual reality,
at the iron-fisted giant
who would nurse your neuroses
if he'd stop bashing your face in.

Your expectations for the outcome
laced with Disney Princess satin
arrange themselves in a cross-legged noose
(the "O" stands for optimism),
for all this atonement
must be the beaten path
to the Garden of Eden.

You should just remember.
The men still pulled the lever,
licking the flames
as Joan of Arc sang her finale.

am I compelling,
lukewarm smile
But I'm made of steel
Stolen
Hidden as if caught between blushing trees
That saw us
Did you reference my past
As casual lies

Last night, on that waxed hard floor--
Open sleeves
Ripped
Wet like tissue-paper
I'd write
Only you an apology
That dear aneurysm
I'd implanted in, in
Your fertile heart

Let me go
The Devil's contrast
To your shell of an angel
I'd rather die
A mirror's vision, and you'll

Hear my laughter
alone please
Those skeletons I scrubbed clean
I pushed its licked-pale knuckles
into yours
Watched us grin
Hostile healer dropped dead in applause.

Urge me to stop waiting
For wheels
I'd slashed them myself
And still I wait
Composed of borrowed questions
And all love's potential clients
choke on my visible schemes
I'd die
Over and over again
It's the only thing
That brings me to my knees

It took you
Too long, God
To see
That spark
Is my blood
Shining on
You
And you're nothing
Without it.

I feel like i've already read this?
aside from that feeling, incredible.
"so much abstract nounage"
Especially the 5th stanza... 6th being a perfect outro in context.
It gunna take me a while to take a stab at deciphering but nevertheless, its one i'll read over and over

this is not meant to be poetic... i wrote it tonight for a rap battle this coming weekend. i just wanted to get people's thoughts on whether it felt like pointless wankery. i don't have to be Nas, i just have to beat a bunch of other white kids from Indiana.

consecutive, executive lessons from the next president
a test in which contestants set a precedent for excellence
contest this bitch, my detective skills detect distress with this
resident of less wit, but I digress, cause I respect this kid
yet I protest we reassess what we expect from him
we can't suspect that he'll possess professional finesse, but then
nonetheless i ask we acquiesce and bless his next of kin
unless, I guess, he does impress, but then I'll have to flex again
send him into an excess of depression with my regimen
of success, successfully expressing why he sucks at this
but i'm fucking specimen sent specifically to fuck with him
feed him estrogen, dress him in a dress, and then have sex with him
relentless then, but i confess to this effect, and when
i ask you to accept that this does not reflect the Jeff within
the stress creates a mess, which I address and treat with medicine
except for when, oppression wins, I'm sick. This is a deadly sin.

I'm not a good judge of raps like that but if its for a bunch of white kids than I imagined you'd do pretty well.

Keep an eye on your girl, or i might make a pass
So while you up here being a rapper, i'll bust a nut in her ass
So check yourself, cuz your rhymes just get whacker
And stop shit happening like the contents of a condom wrapper.

I will occupy myself till a time comes
When I wouldn’t mind never being alone
A stone’s throw from safety, as always
I would jump if I hadn’t already been saved
I will occupy myself by being happy to stay alive
But wrapped in my reflection, I’d sooner lie down and die

Is this a dancing shadow, gone?
Beauty like the setting sun
Does a perfect shape bloom
In a garden yet to come
It’s still unclear, like there will be no end
Those that care can see
The limits of passion bend
Then nighttime now bound to secrecy
It might amount to nothing
Still, everything’s here for me

I take a few more suggestions
Some say so long now
But the longest day’s not over
I just want to go home
Please let me go home
Go home

Setting a scene, before me
Already on the stage
I love this view, this springtime
That shines upon my face
Inches in front I would never complain
But if I ever look behind me
I would end this torturous, tremulous wait
Only one inch backwards stepping
It’s the ahead that occupies me
Reminds me that I’m not alone
This view makes me glad to be alive
Eyes closed when I’m on my own

Under the façade that future is a friend
In an opposite direction, passion limits bend
If I can look through the sunshine
I can make out wings that should be mine
Although at feel at home now, I will not be the same
I feel like turning back now as that sun begins to rain
I’ve had enough attention
So I say so long now
I want it to be over
I just want to go home
Please let me go home
I want to just go home

Youth had it comin'.

Shoulda never worn that pretty dress.
Shoulda never walked into that door.

Shoulda never sat
on the most rickety chair
in the joint, fallin' on
my lap th' way she did.

Kinda knew it would happen,
too. Always could tell a
fresher face-ripe for the
pickin', I always used ta
say.

"Well, now, did you step
on one of them pork-yoo-
pahns, lil missy?"

(Nice to meet you, Girl.
My name is Inevitability.
You might've missed me,
looking from the corner of
the wall opposite the back
of your head, whistling Dixie
on your bristled follicles
mid-daydream, via inhale.)

She gathered herself, laughed.
Jackpot.Told me she wasn't
any sort of damsel in distress,
that she knew all, mind you, all
the tricks in the fairy tale
handbook, from front to back,
to boot!

Fed her Cinderella from top
to bottom, she ate it up like
a backwoods whore.

"Speakin' of storytellin',
you wanna know what my
favorite Shake-spee-uh sayin'
is, hm? 's the one where the
lady wants to be a man, them
loony Europeans."

"Anyway, one of the guys there,
pulls up his chest n' shouts,
'Some are born great, some
achieve greatness, n' some
have greatness just thrust
right up on 'em!'"

"Get up outta that chair,
pretty lady, and get ready
for a time you ain't ever
gon' forget!"

(It was then that nightfall
spilled over like a broken ink bottle,
salivated over the horizon with
the hunger of a bleeding river's mouth,
as all our girdles loosened, and
with the last protracted sigh of
metallic wisdom, hushed our
brigade of inner children's choirs,
massaged the cramp settled
on the back of our left legs,
turned out the lights,
and went to sleep.)

oh my god, that was sex. with poetry so often the subliminal messages and weight of words wrapped up in personal affairs and feelings (that are for the most part invisible to the outsider)...can make them very draining to read, even tedious. but you've actually made the poem fun. the tone, syntax, the way the stanzas flow all possess a playful, teasing emphasis that is endearing and likeable. the marriage between cheeky humour directed at fairytales and old english works beautifully, with quite a morbid tinge in the italicized stanzas; "Nice to meet you Girl.." and again, the switch in style and narrative gives the poem an unpredictable feel, sorta contradicting the cliche endings we all associate with fairytales (not sure if that was intentional however). The 'kinda knew it would happen' stanza in particular is genius wit, and you paint up visuals with ease and a confident breeziness.
I would say overall the poem is somewhat of a black comedy, the ending stanza the most beautifully written... I mean fucking wow,

'It was then that nightfall
spilled over like a broken ink bottle,
salivated over the horizon with
the hunger of a bleeding river's mouth,'

that entire paragraph, that ^^^ in particular is top knotch. you've somehow combined all the positives poetry can bring, including depth, and carefully cut out the dreary bullshit most poets so often indulge in. one my favourites of yours, though I must say
Inscription is still top 3 for me. well done!

Wow. Now THATs a review.

I am SAYING. Nina, you rock my face. <3

A peace, forth comes.
Visceral thieves elongate something
I knew it wasn't real
So i defend
Once again, the river, forth
Is swallowed
By the ocean's mouth
Without remorse
Without regret
Because if you keep running
The sun wont ever stop to set

Not mine, but something I thought I'd share that blew me away. Timothy Donnely's The Cloud Corporation.

Video: http://vimeo.com/19405093
Text: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive ... ?id=241022

What becomes of past places,
and lost faces therein
They drift from mind and eyes
with the slow surprise
of a setting sun.

What became of the child's laughter
that stirred with certain delight
Merely now left behind
in stilled seas of the mind
where no sun reigns.

i am a boy
i have but one toy
its small but strong
its all i need to let go
i shall not fail nor succeed
it shall be done
the hour has arrived
the seconds pass by, agonized
by my subconscious dilemmas
i must gather from within
courage, hatred, jubilant angst
the toy gleams in my hands
yes, a boy with just one toy
and now its time to play
play and finally let go