Taboo words contest entry: an experience in an experiment!
|We glide together, I barely feel him beside me.
Thoughts of my own selfish actions want me free.
His slinking beside me meant to make me suspicious.
He doesn't know I have long stopped caring about us.
Wish him dead
Void beneath our feet shifts with each wave.
He whistles a tune as he guides me toward a cave.
Hate a bug!
I know a rendezvous of intimacy is what he has in mind.
In girlish escape, I dart to any high dune I can climb.
Moment of desperation, I search for another place to hide.
My eyes skim the landscape, I see what looks like a black, very high tide.
This is every nightmare, I cannot bring these fears to light.
I break into a run to get away, search now for place of height.
There are sharp grass blades beneath my feet, do not slow.
A show of blood rush in front of me says loud I better go!
It disappears and in relief I pray the rush is taken aback.
In moments the rushing black water begins again in brutal, bloody, attack, rising! Rising!
This time I'm almost pushed down by tree limbs, torn bare, Water Everywhere!
See the limbs of tourists, torn cattle, mixtures of flesh, hair.
I hear the screams and taste fear wash in my mouth like bitter wine.
Bobbing heads everywhere, seek to aid the screams, in my mind.
Soulless eyes, roll with the crush of forms appearing to seek shelter.
Hands trapped in snarls of hair, and mane, and foam, and bloody swelter.
Crying babies float a bit, then disappear in lonely, cold, abandon.
Dying mothers still grasping onesies belonging to their one and only.
Limbs are thrashing, crashing, they imply there's hope to grasp.
Limp victims wrapped in quickly grabbed salvation's rope, an asp.
Children lie on fathers' float, weeping, they watch the eventual bloat.
See a babe so hungry, it was sucks the teat of a floating dead goat.
Hours pass like moments, we grow accustomed to death's mass of horror.
I hear a southern lady, prim and proper, ask dead daughter, "How's 'tomorrer'?"
wc 421, line count 60 (Taboo Contest Entry: an experience of a new style I'm working on to prod the reader to automatically consider the many possible details and focus subconsciously on enhancing and projecting on the mind the most detail of each line! Every other line is made up of no more than four words, two, preferably, that enhance the lines before and after..I am praying this is as successful as it has been during my trials.) *P.S. My mom was a 'prim and proper southern lady' and every word ending in 'A' or 'O' she pronounced with an 'R', like AFRIKER. Or ALABAMER.