Thursday, June 28, 2012

Peter Marra - One Poem

Stabbed Windows

through a stabbed window
in the past experienced episodes
gripping the beds a daydream twist
watches silently
someone saw it
someone said it never
really happened
a sensual sequence
for a timeless experience
slick fluids crash

breaking down

“hide in the corridor
until they’re gone”

when she did what she did

“hide in the corridor
until they’re gone”
wet leather clad her limbs

mother and father
what she saw
what she felt

“birds to free me,
please take me ”
fractional smiles
released into air

never felt bad
never felt well
flat lining

gelatinous figures
for crimson walls

(reverie for now
a yen to sleep –
to talk about annette funicello -
when she was
young and we were
stylish sad - no one to chat with)

hear the wounds

time to dress up
shadows inserted deep inside
her and she felt better
reviewing her handiwork
predictive guilt on fire
aroused her to the ceiling
until the plaster cracked
and lumber smoked

behind her eyes
the veils lifted blowing through
hot wind screaming pianos as
she finished what she had started
and her family was eradicated
finished the chocolate left in the cupboard
licked her fingers
slowly delicately
time to live alone

Originally from Gravesend Brooklyn, Peter Marra lived in the East Village, New York from 1979 to 1993 at the height of the punk – no wave music – art rebellion. Peter has had a lifelong fascination with Surrealism, Dadaism, and Symbolism, He has had approximately 100 poems published either in print or online.

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