Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Begging

See inside me?
Day after day, the razor’s bleeding me,
The butcher with his silver axe, loves me, spills the red, and
his fatigued smile frightens me-
another day!
The curtain's been down, I can’t say for long,
Soon the priest in him, with impure hands, with eyes closed
do the rituals, I do the begging.
The fire around, smoke’s my company
I see the deadly veins on his head, squeezing my inferior words,
Dim light awaits an overture, but
all is blood whispering my name.
Will the principles lead him to immortality?
I beg my flesh to rot!
Will the curse wolf down- a many souls?
I beg for a dead heart!
The pantheon will continue to see the blood rain,
till I rise again,
not begging,
avenging.

4 comments:

Anna :o] said...

Respect Monika, respect! This is superb!

Anna :o]

Andreas said...

Oh, what horrifying imagery! To me an allegory of patriarchal domination over the female. It makes me think of what de Beauvoir wrote about pregnancy robing a woman of the rights to her own body, as it becomes appropriated by culture, by society, by "a greater good".

This is powerful and engaging writing! Thank you.

Monika said...

Thanks Anna. I am grateful!

Thank you Andreas. Unwanted and agonizing domination over females may consequently lead them to a horrific self estrangement, where death seems an easy option. This may keep on continuing till she takes a stand, for herself, for the life she actually deserves.

Wine and Words said...

This sounds ancient...as if the feelings have been stewing somewhere until boiling...they become one with the stove.