Blink. Breathe. Hold on.
Light reflects off of sequins into a black mass which roars for its offering. Hands reaching, seeking. Give it something.
Bound by wire and electric tape and addiction on a four foot pedestal. Perception dulled in the pounding. Felt through head, feet, chest, soul. Inhale.
Invisible hands tug forward. Peering down over a sea of grinning chaos. Open wide. Thighs sore from pumping in a savage dance. High heels first out of place and then kicked aside. The sacrifice is made.
The beast is satiated, yet the victim, panting and slippery with salty fluid, needs more.
posted by Kara Alison @ 4:15 PM
12 comments
12 Comments:
I'm know I'm missing the allegorical connection, but I need a cigarette.
HOT without being specific.
Clever writing.
**High Five**
hehe...this was a little experiment on my part. I'm dabbling in prose poetry and I thought I'd give it a shot. The final product had an effect I hadn't anticipated. Of course, upon reading it in this new context, I'm not sure how I missed it the first time.
I'm very glad you both enjoyed it.
My first impression was very much "WTF?" followed closely by "is that a fight club reference?" re: 'Bound by... electrical tape...'
You can pretty startling results the other way around: try taking some stream-of-consciousness prose and break it up (almost cut-up style), not even bothering with normal poetic conventions... I have a couple floating about on my blog if you want to know what the freck I'm talking about...
... ooops! Should have mentioned where to look... try November 2005 if you're interested...
ok, so I have to admit what it's really about. Not sex (sorry). This describes something of my experience as a singer. The wire and electrical tape (and the stage: four foot pedestal) are in reference to microphones, etc.
It was meant to parallel sacrifice with the audience being the beast. Turns out it got pretty sexy though...oops. I like that it did actually. Performance is like that.
I'll definitely check out your work Tsavo. Thanks.
Tsavo - I did a little reading. That some pretty heavy stuff you've got there. Check out the comments if you have a chance.
Muchas gracias senorita.
Occasionally the muse stricks me thus, and other times it merely hefts it's barbed-wire encrusted 2x4 repeatedly in my direction until I retaliate...
"Reality" was a mantra that I found myself repeating on a train journey. I shall be hunting out "Goldfish" in due course.
As for "Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall...": well, that was me in a shopping centre, wandering about, fuelled on nothing more than a mental breakdown and Marlboro. I wrote it as prose, and then found it worked so much better in a more ragged and cut up kind of way.
Any hugs I receive will be repaid in kind.
BTW, Tsavo means 'a place of slaughter': I sometimes wonder if that's fitting?
Re: “Goldfish”
I find it intriguing… bewitching even. I sort of understand your reference to “Goldfish” with regards to “Reality”, as I think there is something almost mantra-ish about “Goldfish” (and I especially like the ‘reversal’ you used in the opening/closing lines).
There’s also a part of me that wants to tinker with it, using the juxtaposed ideas and images in such a way as to try and emulate the whole goldfish memory analogy (which I realise all too readily must seem highly pretentious of me, especially considering that I am talking about the idea of ‘remixing’ someone else’s work).
I think I'll be wandering about here for a quite a while yet *g*
Thanks Tsavo. I'm very glad that you thought so much about it. My reason for doing most of what I do is to get people thinking. Whether or not they like/agree with what I say is secondary.
Juxtapose away. Just be sure to share when you do.
Simply put, I like it, Kara. :)
Thank you and thank you (Jason and Jeff). I'm really quite pleased to hear that.
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