Ye Olde Bloggens are re-posts of old blogs
The following post was originally posted on one of Bridget Eileen’s old blogs: In the Pines, Neophyte Poetics, Bridget Eileen’s Commonplace Book, Dreaming Bridge Designs or A Vegetarian Notebook. They aren’t all fancy with photos and subheadings and search descriptions, or even that much content, sometimes. They’re here for posterity, because it’s fun to read the archives!
Prose poem from L.L.
The Abominable Game
Absynthe this mass destruction of the way she went about the world clucking as if her lascivious feathers drenched in brandy were superior to the den I sink myself into now and did before she pretended to love me.
I sent my daft friend to relay a subtle blow to her with the inquisition of fire. The eyes she burned me with were returned with my flickering, mirthful smile.
She watched as my chestnut enchantress and the subtle friend and I exited the carriage for our great shipride to abandonment.
Each time I pretended to love her by piquing interest, I blew fiberglass venom into her open eyes and it vaguely erupted, though quickly quelled, her awesome and victorious anger.
I will win this abominable game and keep running. There is nothing left to lose.
The world and its mother are cruel and unfaithful. I see no point in giving kindness without frugality, as the Way tends to turn that way as well.
Leave this misguided preparedness for water survival and tenderness. No man will respect it. No beautiful woman cares for anything but your vague, aloof appeal.
A cosmic happening inside is the only validity to a man worth anything in the world and any man abandoning this wisdom has nothing to lose because he has nothing to begin with. I have left nothing and began with everything.