Sunday, August 2, 2009

Broken Doll

She's a tragic figure
Misunderstood child
In a woman's body

A darling with a weakness for the flesh
Fallen angel
Broken whore

Licking wounds on the kitchen floor
She crawls
And begs him for more

Little girls giggle
In white dresses and veils
He looked like heaven

Battered doll
Bleeding red at his feet
Choking on the words

I love you
Syllables are weapons, too
Murderous cuts in her throat

Taste the sweet
Spill the wine

Broken doll
Love your man
As your grave grows cold

Stupid girl
Throw the bouquet
Take the plunge

Lipstick red
Smeared across the bed
Broken doll

Flowers weep
Go to sleep
Broken doll


  1. I've had a troubled history with poetry. From I was young I've almost willfully refused to understand or appreciate it. Apart from Limericks. I like Limericks.

    There probably comes a point when you shouldn't be putting stuff like that up on your blog. You're throwing away your first publication opportunities. And if that wasn't worthy of publication then I know nothing about poetry. Okay, I don't, but I thought that was superb. So, in summary, if you require endorsement from someone who has railed against the world of poetry and claims no kinship to it, then I'm your man.

    Ever since visitng this blog, it's depressing how emotionally-stunted my writing is in comparison. It might be a chromosome thing, it might be my robot brain, whatever it is I'm convinced if only I'd learned to fake this emotional stuff it would have made me a better writer. And boy-friend.

  2. Thank you for your kind words. I've written far more poetry than prose, I think that shows, lol.

    You're way to hard on yourself. I'm a chick with a fucked up childhood. You know why I write this stuff? Because I can't figure out a better way to extract it from my head. I've been accused of being too intense, too dark, blah, blah, blah.

    I figure taking the horrible crap that happened when I was a kid and using it to feed my art is a way to get something positive out of it. And it keeps it away from my boys...I vowed that my children would never know the fear I grew up in, and they don't.

    I don't know what kind of boyfriend you were, but maybe you just didn't meet a girl who "got" you? It's hard to say why some things don't work out. The story you found from a long time ago was emotional. It was nice, as in do a rewrite and submit it somewhere, nice.

    As a reader, I connected to it. So don't sell yourself short, Anton. Not ever. There's a reason I follow your blog and others do as well. You're hilarious. I really suck at humor. I crack a lot of jokes in real life, but I can't write a single one.

    Embrace your strengths, Sir, and write. In the end, we are who we are. And you have to be true to that or your work will feel forced.

  3. *By rewrite, I mean edit. Don't change the words, just the help the flow.

  4. Hey, Kat. I'll agree with Anton that rather than post your work here, you may be better served trying to get it published. But ultimately that's up to you, and in the meantime, I'm glad you *did* post it, because it's beautifully dark.

    Oh, and nothing can ever be too dark, at least for me. I signed up to follow your blog. Keep the darkness coming. :-)

  5. Lol, I don't think I can stop the darkness.

    Thanks, Onipar, and welcome. Yeah, I was looking at your blog earlier and your reviews...pretty cool. I'll follow your blog, too. Congrats on your freelance work (I forgot to post that on your blog.)

    I've submitted a couple of things, but I won't hear anything for I'm not throwing away all of my work, lol.

  6. Good to hear, Kat. Yeah, it's always a waiting game. I'm waiting on agents now, much more than short stories.

    I'll also add a link to your site.

    Good luck with your subbed work.