Interjaculate Memoir

Stigmata Diabolic

You have the kind of eyes
That turn mere mortals into wrecks
You reveal the kind of love
That is so hard to detect
Your mind is so wide open
That you fail to perceive

These arms are built of iron
There is rust in my caress
I watch you walking off
With the heart that I neglect
I have opened up my eyes
They never fail to deceive

You called me Messiah
Your god with a song
Blood fanned the flames
That I used to get along
Life returned to ashes
Without the weight of your name

Reduced
Infected

Seduced
Rejected

Again

Shannon McEwen -

First of all I like the concept, but this one seems to much "tell" and not enough "show".

In your first stanza instead of telling us what kind of eyes she has, show us, make us envision the look she gives you with those eyes, makes us FEEL the sex!

In the second stanza, the first line doesnt make sence to me, did you mean are instead of ate?

As usual I enjoy reading your work

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Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Mercieca, Andrew -

As always Sharon, thanks for your comments.

First off....DOH!!! Ate was simply a case of bad proof reading.....now corrected.

With regards to the "show" vs "tell" debate....it shall forever rage. Both have their pro's and cons. In this instance, I simply opted to start by telling, as a way of showing how perception is simply a matter of words....

Mos.

Shannon McEwen -

And that's definately your choice as a poet! ( I waver back and forth on the debate to be honest:P)

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Life is what happens while you wait for great things.

Life is what happens while you wait for great things.