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A Killing Joke
Contributed by
waos
on
Thursday, 16th September 2004 @ 07:17:43 PM in AEST
Topic:
SadPoetry
|
Discarded the passe plastic surfboard
as I donned the pale vampiric glaze.
I picked up TOOL's latest CD,
the sound encased my thoughts.
Boys, girls, it didn't matter...
as long as I could study the serial killer.
But things...
well things don't always turn out how they're planned.
Time's gone by as in the arms of a lover
and THAT day? It was yesterday to me.
Whenever the visions of that innocent's end emerges...
I
f
a
l
l
in...
Damien, my gothic ideal, planned a joke...
I call it a 'Killing Joke'
because jokes sank to the ocean floor
as if tied with a weight of death.
The dirt is leaves upon the path in Autumn,
as the plastic grave
yawns open; just thirteen inches deep.
We play Kelly's guide,
tour 'Ghost Town,' stealthily approach
the center of the joke: the grave.
...oh Kelly stay with me...
...I'm not so frozen as you think...
She turns her back
and in my mind I see me
abandon her as a wilting rose its petals.
The images crack,
shatter as broken glass with the bang of a gun.
...he never planned a joke...
The clammy cold crawls down my spine, shivers overtake.
...sweet Kelly...
She twitches on the ground like an erratic heartbeat.
Words invade my prayed for nightmare, my evil ideals.
"My finger slipped..."
*Twitch, twitch.*
"I can't shoot her again..."
A blood red pillow forms to cushion her head.
*Twitch...twitch.*
I long for a big red STOP sign to halt her movement.
I remember the feel
of cold steel
in my hand.
...I shot you Kelly dear...
I wanted to turn the last page of her book of misery;
because all she was now
was a horse with a broken leg.
Then the dirt upon the path hid my Kelly,
hid her as a child who crawls beneath the covers
at every sound.
It created a wall between her and all horrors.
A rotten orange couch let her rest in shade.
I lost her in thirteen inches.
The following weeks seem different,
they flick in and out, on and off,
like a TV with poor reception.
My memory's vision is lost in a lake of fog,
blurred and misty as a drunk's
and missing parts
like a book with pages ripped and torn.
... Hey Kelly babe let's go hang out...
left with no response.
Pain like acidic spotted showers
burns through my walled up heart.
I clutched her photo front row
as I cried.
I return to Ghost Town,
I had to try all the erasers, rewinds, reverses
and resets to return what it was.
Let me say what I see...
...I see purple lavendar stones
spelling K.E.L.L.Y.;
and our bottle of Alize
upon a white cross,
all that's left pure.
And pencils stabbed through papers
spelling K.E.L.L.Y.
stabbed into the ground.
A silk rose upon a teddy bear
and a red wand
by pink candles.
It was innocent and right.
But just as we defiled Kelly
so do rags, foam, and a used condom
defile her memory...
I pressed all the buttons,
tried every gear,
but all that's left is rotting flesh,
decaying as our memories.
As silent as a prisoner pressing volume
against a taped over mouth,
until I sat in that room,
...life's not like the movies...
My words were an overflowing river
crashing through a dam.
I lost her in thirteen inches
and now there's no reset button.
...I'll never forget you Kelly. Wherever I go now,
you'll be there with me...
Copyright ©
waos
... [
2004-09-16 19:17:43]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: A Killing Joke
(User Rating: 1 )
by SuicideParty on
Thursday, 16th September 2004 @ 08:22:55 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
| Ooh, wow. That was...confusing. Confusing but beautiful. Very, very beautiful, even though I've not a clue to it's meaning. But hey, art is the universal language, ne? |
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Re: A Killing Joke
(User Rating: 1 )
by Essentially9 on
Thursday, 6th January 2005 @ 09:01:54 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
| i read this article. its in a teen magazine isnt it? i forgot which one though. i also wrote a poem from an article, it was about this freshman who killed himself in the rollingstones magazine. i dont really remember the article well, or you just added some things to this. ::scratches head:: very poetically put in many areas. the jokes on them with guilt. |
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