tommydarascal said:
Just before you read this, I promise I am not sick.
Stolen
The trees whisper at my greed
At my arrogant, selfish need.
Dirty and evil seems my lust
As I thrust,
Robbing the innocence and purity
And this teenager’s virginity.
Scream does she, screams out all her fears
Which is music to my perverted ears.
I mash her well and churn,
Hoping that every stroke makes her burn.
Her hair fans out beneath me, – the power –
Around her face … the blameless flower …
She is so frail: I am so strong,
I shall do this all night long.
I enjoy it, for it is my pleasure,
TV does not interest me … this is my leisure.
Then I get frisky and she scratches my face
As orgasm looms - and for it I chase.
I go faster and faster, then whip out my knife
Then with it, so slowly, I slit out her life.
Any comments are greatly appreciated!
Tommy, with all respect, there's little within it worth reading. It reads like you just wanted something to masturbate to having become immune to more mainstream thrills.
First of all, what are you trying to achieve by this poem? You seem to be trying to create a scene but a) it's not involving and b) it's not reflective. It's like being forced to watch something for no reason, thus we are invited to read this and, as a reader, there's nothing to take from it. At least there seems no reason for it being written.
The rhymes, for the most part, are poor and, given that you are using couplets, the rhythm is off from one line to the next.
As I thrust almost works as a short sentence to signify the quickness of the action but the previous line is too comedic to be menacing or fear inducing.
The followed couplet, using three words that can mean the same (innocence, purity, virginity) seems like another contrived effort.
Aside from the 'music to my ears' cliche, do you honestly think someone that kills for pleasure would consider themselves perverted? Killing, to such people, is probably as mundane as feeding the cat, wiring a plug, whatever.
The line about TV is pointless, pure and simple.
But I must say, that last line, the
slit out her life is striking and original to me. The repeated sound of the 't' at the end of 'slit' and 'out' evoke something sharp and dangerous, like two quick jabs, with the 'f' of the 'f' fading out (like a final hiss of air) and ending the poem, much like her life.
If you must continue this, I would suggest you try to create a link between this nutcase and the reader, make them care or agree either way. Try less comical turns of phrase; that
scream does she immediately made me think of Yada. And I laughed. Choose words carefully, as there's little to no atmosphere here either.
Totally aside, check out the atmosphere in Poe's
The Lake:
E.A. Poe said:
In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less-
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.
But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody-
Then- ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight-
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define-
Nor Love- although the Love were thine.
Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining-
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.
