Prick’d

It’s all too easy these days…
To put on Lana’s haunting version of “Once upon a Dream”
~ Aurora is my Disney princess
To put on a long white dress and pull out my wedding album
~ My real dress is long gone
To curl up around what was my life on the cold wood floor
~ Do I deserve a more comfortable bed?
I deserve nothing more than these endless days and black empty nights
I want to fall asleep in this nightmare that I created
And wake up in the life that I tossed away for nothing
Or never wake up again
Led astray by the beautiful eyes of a basilisk
Beguiled by promises
Betrayed by illusions
While my mind replays, replays, replays
“You’ll love me at once, the way you did once, upon a dream…”

~ kei
5 February 2014

Religion

You’ve been my bible, my holy wine
I’m on my knees, grovelling
You’ve been my saviour, my limbo
I speak in tongues

But I am merely drunk on you
Grovelling in degradation
Wings torn, face dirtied
Speaking platitudes

Kneeling before this golden idol
Kissing feet of clay
Watching my illusions fall to pieces
Seeing my convictions go astray

~ kei
02 January 2012

Relinquished Muse

For sale or rent:

One slightly damaged Muse
Has very few qualifications for the title really
Misrepresented credentials under the guise of a smile

Rather lazy
Lounges around Sundays, napping, watching hockey or writing haiku rather than Musing for you
Well of course. They’re so easy to write. Properly. Leafs suck.

Unlikely to inspire passionate prose
Will slip into one of your button downs scented with the night before
Far more often than Victoria’s unmentionables and scarlet spandex… whatever that shit is

Aggravating and artsy
Might show up for dinner in a 1950’s gown and Converse high tops
Can’t decide between Monet exhibits and Mötley Crüe

Demanding!
Always wanting sex at the most inconvenient times
Knocking over typewriters, glasses, totally distracting you from your opus

Very unprofessional
Prone to fits of giggling during home office hours
Often writes poetry with purple and turquoise markers and prose with a dinosaur-topped pencil

Not to be trusted in a stationery shop
Spends grocery money on pretty writing journals and… eww… lined copy books
Has been caught nibbling erasers

Not as moneyed as other pudgy, frowsy, menopausal Muses
But not yet overdrawn on inspiration and dreams. She’s banked a million
Far too proud of the fact she can’t be bought

Willful and spiteful
See reference above to the doughy, ham-fisted, so called competition, hack
Damn it! She did it again… See? Spiteful…

Way too alpha for the average poet or writer
Don’t even think of consulting with another Muse! Ask me, I know
A) She’ll have your balls for bookends B) See reference above… again

Broke as dirt. Won’t be able to keep you in palatial oceanside abodes
Better tales are written though, in the warmth of a cozy boÎte
And of eating mac ‘n cheese cooked in a fondue pot

Use of adjectives, alliteration and allegory will drive you apeshit
Literary taste runs from Dostoyevsky to Nancy Drew
Curses like a lumberjack during episodes of writer’s block

Who the hell does she think she is anyway?
Hemingway?
You can see how much I’ve had to put up with!

No references available
Was a huge disappointment to previous poetical patron
Too much temper, fire and passion. Not enough… sock darning or something

Easily fixed with cut and paste, find and replace
Substitute a Muse that’s more to your taste
Never to shake the indelible bruises of longing she’ll leave on your brain

Gotta kijiji this before I change my mind
She’s a fey and fanciful muse, cantankerous, contrary and flawed
But oh! The stories she has for you

~ kei
14 October 2013

Fooled

I had hoped to have a future. I knew it would take time
I said my beautiful aloha, I didn’t think it was goodbye
I thought you understood, you said you did and yet
A stumble showed me that I’m forgotten
That you really couldn’t care less
Scant hours after telling me you love me
What do my horrified eyes see?
You’ve resurrected your secret life
The one you always kept from me
I guess the one good thing about this scalpel twist
Your exquisite betrayal is this
When at last I feel
That cold steel for real
It won’t hurt as badly as this

 And I won’t try to push aside

The angel of death

Rather, let his will be done

It’s far better to me to be dead you see

Than to know how disposable I’ve become

kei
11 September 2013

Worship

You’ve been my bible, my holy wine
I’m on my knees, grovelling
You’ve been my saviour, my limbo
I speak in tongues
But I am merely drunk on you
Grovelling in degradation
Wings torn, face dirtied
Speaking platitudes
Kneeling before this golden idol
Kissing feet of clay
Watching my illusions fall to pieces
Seeing my convictions die
So too, the death of my dream
There was never a real you
Never a you and me

© Karin E. Tupper

02 January 2012